Malaysian Post

This article was published in The Star on 3rd October 2007

Residents of coastal Fujian believe Mazu protects them from sickness and calamities.

Mazu’s statue on Meizhou island comprises 365 pieces of stone.

EACH summer, between July and September, typhoons sweep across the coast of south and east China, often with devastating results. So it came as no surprise when warnings of an impending storm were sounded while I was visiting my ancestral village a couple of weeks ago. Typhoon Wipha, said to be the most powerful storm in a decade, was to make landfall near one of China’s most prosperous cities – Zhejiang province’s Wenzhou, just 300km north of Fujian’s provincial capital Fuzhou.

A report on the China Daily website noted that 2.67 million people in the provinces of Fujian, Zhejiang, Jiangsu, and in Shanghai were evacuated before the storm. Wipha destroyed or damaged thousands of houses and caused huge economic losses. Mercifully, with careful pre-typhoon preparations, only a handful of individuals lost their lives.

I was in Fuqing city near Fuzhou when Wipha struck. Except for a slight drizzle, we hardly felt the effects of the storm and it was during a conversation with a local taxi driver that I found out about the miracles of Mazu, Goddess of the Sea.

Essentially a fisherman’s deity, Mazu is worshipped throughout coastal China and in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macau – wherever there are fishing communities. She was born Lin Muniang 1,047 years ago in the early Song dynasty on Meizhou island in central Fujian’s Putian county, purportedly to a military family who gave her an education normally reserved for boys of good family.

In her short life of just 28 years, Li Muniang dedicated herself to saving fisher-folk from calamities as well as cared for the sick. Legend says she sacrificed her life while saving fishermen at sea and was subsequently deified by the common people who to this day believe that she continues to work her miracles.

On a hilltop in Meizhou stands a 14 metre high statue of Mazu constructed of 365 pieces of stone, symbolic of the blessings she bestows daily throughout the year. Even as news of Wipha’s fury spread, local residents said Meizhou and its vicinity have not suffered a direct hit by a typhoon since the statue was erected in the early 1990s.

My guide recalled how it rained for days in May 2006 and China’s Central Television (CCTV) was concerned that a scheduled outdoor performance in Meizhou would have to be cancelled. The islanders however, were confident Mazu would help them. Sure enough, on the day of the show, the rain suddenly stopped. Stranger still, it began to rain again right after the event.

Apparently, a Mazu image travelled to Jinmen Island, in the Taiwan Straits, for blessing ceremonies in 2002 and for half a year after that no rain fell on the island – a boon for fisher-folk who eke out a living from the sea.

Mazu, goddess of the sea.

My guide also related a story about a Song dynasty official who was sent to Korea on a mission. A storm nearly capsized his ship but he was saved by a lady in red, none other than Mazu herself. Since then sailors have come to Meizhou to worship Mazu and ask for her protection. Admiral Zheng He, though a Muslim, was no exception and a plague in front of his statue in one of the worship halls records his visits to Meizhou before his voyages to the South Seas as envoy of the Ming dynasty.

Fishing is the lifeblood of Meizhou as the island soil is too saline for growing rice. This dependence on the sea is reflected in the costume of the women of Meizhou, said to be designed by Mazu herself, and still worn by some islanders today. The colours of the trousers and jackets express a wish for their men-folk’s safety at sea – blue for the sea, red for auspicious tidings and black to denote longing for their return. In the past, women also coiled their hair in the fan shape of a Chinese boat sail to wish the men yi fan feng shun (smooth sailing).

A small temple to Li Muniang was erected on Meizhou after her death. It has since been expanded into a complex large enough to accommodate the thousands of worshippers from mainland China, Taiwan, Macau, Hong Kong (where Mazu is known as Tianhou) and other coastal communities who converge on Meizhou to perform elaborate commemoration rituals during the 3rd and 9th lunar months (April and October). So beloved is the deity that, according to my guide, there are now over 5,000 temples in 26 countries dedicated to her.

Over the centuries Mazu was posthumously conferred dozens of honorific names and titles by emperors and devotees. Believers say she transcends religion and no matter which name is used to address her, like Guanyin, Mazu will respond to all who call upon her in their hour of need.

Ziying makes frequent trips to China to refurbish a traditional family house in her ancestral village. She can be reached at ziyingster@gmail.com

Was returning to KL from Singapore this afternoon when we got caught in a minor jam just before Seremban, Negeri Sembilan. The cause was an overturned trailer loaded with thousands of cans and bottles of Coke!

More photos available at Free Photo Gallery

It was half past seven in the evening of 30th August 2007, the eve of Malaysia’s Golden Jubilee Celebration. Huge crowds were forming at Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square) preparing for the countdown to Malaysia’s 50th Anniversary of Independence. The buildings around this hotspot is decorated and gaily lit with multi-coloured lights.

Unfortunately, me and my better half and son were not in the mood to join the party crowd. We were rushing to catch the 8.30 p.m. Wau Express to Kota Bahru. My BH has an appointment in KB and we tag along for the heck of it. We have to lug our heavy baggage from the Masjid Jamek Station to the Central Market LRT Station because the queue for the tickets stretches all the way from the ticket counters to quarter way up the stairs to the streets above!

We just do not have the time to queue so we lugged our luggage to the next station. We manage to get our tickets almost immediately at the Central Market Station. Although we arrive in time at the Sentral Station, there was only just enough time to ta pau (takeaway) McDonalds and have our dinner on the train.

Below is a photo on the inside of our coach.

We arrived at Gemas Station, Johore about 10 minutes before midnight. At exactly midnight, the blare of the trains’ whistle coupled with the explosions of the fireworks display is enough to wake the devils up (this being the seventh month in the Chinese Lunar Calender).

Of course, I grabbed my trusty Canon and started snapping away from the door of the coach. After a few shots, I decided to move nearer to the display and walked onto the pavement in my bare socks. Didn’t have the time to put on my shoes! The fireworks lasts for about 8 minutes.

Well this is something different. While the rest of the country are enjoying the fireworks in the city, either live or on TV, here a small group of travellers were treated to a memorable fireworks display to mark a historic moment of our nation’s history. Thank you KTM…..Thank you for the memories.

Ziying’s Brush as published in The Star, Malaysia on 22nd August 2007

Kapitan Cina Yap Kwan Seng’s philanthropic deeds helped lay the foundations of this country and he should be accorded the appropriate recognition in our museums.

A FEW weeks, ago my uncle and his son came to Kuala Lumpur for a visit. They live in Hong Kong and that was their first trip to Malaysia in several years. My uncle said one of the places they were particularly keen to visit was the National Museum (Muzium Negara). He remembered from an earlier visit nearly a decade ago that his grandfather’s photo was in one of the museum’s galleries and he wanted his son to see it.

Naturally, I was delighted. After all, the country is celebrating 50 years of independence and what better time for someone to reconnect with its historical heritage than on its big birthday? Moreover, though I have been to many excellent museums outside the country, I could not remember when I last visited a museum in Malaysia.

Kuala Lumpur’s last Kapitan Cina Yap Kwan Seng, dressed in Qing dynasty attire.

I soon found out, however, that the historical galleries were no longer in Muzium Negara but had been moved to the National History Museum, a pleasant cream-coloured building that used to be the old Chartered Bank, in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. (The building is adjacent to Padang Merdeka and the Selangor Club building)

As we stepped inside the small museum, we looked forward to re-discovering Malaysia’s pre-colonial past as well as the life and times of the immigrants who, through a mixture of guts, grit and resolve born of desperate circumstances in the 19th and early 20th centuries, played such an important role in Malaya’s economic and social development.

My uncle was eager to see the exhibits on the Kapitan Cina of Kuala Lumpur, the last of whom was his grandfather, Yap Kwan Seng.

Kapitan Yap Kwan Seng’s philanthropic deeds and his many contributions to the birth of Kuala Lumpur are the stuff of history. Among his numerous achievements, perhaps one of the most significant is the founding of the Tung Shin Hospital (originally set up as a charity named Pooi Shin Tong) to provide free medical care for the poor. The expenses were, of course, underwritten by the Kapitan himself, who also co-founded the Tai Wah Ward of the Pauper’s Hospital that became the Kuala Lumpur General Hospital.

His philanthropic deeds extended beyond Malaya and it is said that a year before he died in 1901, he donated the princely sum of ten thousand dollars towards famine relief in India, a gesture which surely qualifies as Malaysia’s first-ever effort at international humanitarian aid.

Kapitan Yap was also a firm believer in education and co-founded one of the leading schools in Malaysia – KL’s Victoria Institution. As a businessman, he foresaw an increased demand for bricks in fast-growing Kuala Lumpur and established a kiln in a district which came to be called Brickfields, a name by which it is still known today.

Kapitan Yap had made his fortune in tin-mining. It is said he had a workforce of 7,000 and owned more tin mines than any of his contemporaries.

The Kapitan died many years before my mother and her brothers were born, but his legacy had a lasting influence on her family, who kept his memory alive by recounting stories of his life.

My mother remembered quite clearly her grandfather’s houses in Kuala Lumpur and Macau. In fact, before the Japanese War, she lived for a short period in the Kapitan’s residence on High Street in Kuala Lumpur’s Chinatown (which is today known as Jalan Tun H.S. Lee).

She said it was massive, occupying the greater part of the street, with many deep courtyards, and a large garden in front for entertaining guests. Over 50 people, many of whom were servants, lived in the house. The ancestral hall must have been particularly impressive as she recalled it had a grand altar table upon which was placed chunks of crystal, quartz, gold and other precious stones found in the Kapitan’s tin mines.

As my mother attended school in Hong Kong, she spent summer vacations at her grandfather’s mansion in Macau, which was apparently even bigger than the Kuala Lumpur residence. It was, she said, long and deep, with countless rooms, nooks and crannies, and so large that many sections were perpetually dim as they had no access to natural light.

Sadly, although the old colonial powers of Britain, Portugal and Holland were given their respective places in the National History Museum, my uncle and I could not find any references to Yap Kwan Seng or to the other Kapitans who helped lay the foundations of this country.

History museums are repositories of a country’s past, which, among other things, provide valuable insights into the development of a society or a nation. It is anybody’s guess why the Kapitans of old have been omitted from the Museum.

An oversight, perhaps, but for Yap Kwan Seng’s descendants and for the many people who to this day benefit from his good works, his legacy will never be forgotten. It is in this spirit that I dedicate this week’s column to my great-grandfather, the last Kapitan Cina of Kuala Lumpur.

Ziying is taking a break and will return in October. She can be reached at ziyingster@gmail.com

Ziying’s Brush as published in The Star, Malaysia on  8th August 2007

The bronze Flying Horse of Wuwei epitomises the Han dynasty’s affection for the swift steeds of Ferghana.

THE Gansu Provincial Museum in Lanzhou had recently re-opened after extensive renovations. There, we were greeted by a senior researcher who guided us through its smart new galleries. The museum houses an impressive collection of bronzes that date back 3,000 years to the Zhou dynasty, and 8,000-year-old black-painted pottery vessels from the Dadiwan culture, the pride of which is a 6,000-7,000-year-old jar topped with a clay human head which our researcher said is the earliest known piece of sculpture in China.

The museum’s star exhibit, however, is the iconic bronze Flying Horse of Wuwei. Just two days earlier we had visited the general’s tomb where this 1,800-year-old bronze sculpture was found. In the museum it was, in a solitary place of honour, perched on a glass column inside a free-standing illuminated case. The remaining two dozen or so bronze horses, riders, carriages and livestock, all about 30 cm high, stood in formation in an enclosure. As testament to their importance, the carefully-moulded horses stood at the front of the assembly while lowly oxen, without ears or tails, were placed at the very back.

China’s national tourism symbol and a national treasure, the Flying Horse was every bit as beautiful and inspired as I had imagined. Just over 30cm tall and perfectly proportioned, it exuded grace, speed and power. With its right hind leg treading lightly on a startled swallow, the half-metre long “heavenly steed” in full gallop appears surprised to have overtaken a flying bird.

Our visit to the Flying Horse marked the end of our brief journey and left us with a compelling last impression of the Han dynasty’s romance with the swift “blood-sweating” mounts of Ferghana, a prize for which Emperor Wudi sent an army across several thousand kilometres of inhospitable terrain.

Sandwiched between deserts and mountains, the landscape of the so-called Silk Road was probably not much different two millennia ago. Some friends described their trip to the region as “rough and dangerous”.

Compelling: The Gansu Provincial Museum in Lanzhou has an excellent collection of ancient bronzes and terracotta vessels.

Whatever concerns I might have had turned out to be unfounded. The 4,000 kilometre Urumqi-Shanghai expressway that conducted us from Urumqi to Turpan, and then from Dunhuang to Lanzhou, was excellent. We drove almost 1,500 kilometres across scrubland, foothills, and past deep blue salt water lakes and reservoirs without incident.

Impressive, too, was the overnight train from Turpan to Liuyuan, near Dunhuang. With four bunk beds to a cabin, it was efficient, quiet, smooth and comfortable. Most of all, everything, from the stainless steel bathrooms to the beddings, was spotlessly clean.

Typical of Chinese trains, it kept strictly to schedule, and was spot on time.

Besides the first-rate road and rail infrastructure, the government is evidently also attempting to improve the energy infrastructure in the area as we passed wind farms near Turpan as well as in the Hexi Corridor, where gusts roaring in from the mountains and desert drive hundreds of gigantic windmills to generate clean energy.

Food seems to be a key concern for many people travelling in the region but I found it to be varied and delicious throughout, notably the mutton dishes. The weather though, was erratic - it went from sub-zero temperatures in the evenings to warm and sunny in the daytime. And since the whole of China runs on Beijing time, it was still dark and cold at six or seven in the morning in Xinjiang, China’s far west.

I had particularly wanted to visit places of significance to Han history along China’s Silk Road, and it was interesting to find that nearly all major towns in the Hexi Corridor were garrisons that bore the footprint of General Huo Qubing. Similarly, oasis towns like Gaochang in Xinjiang were Han military outposts used by General Li Guangli on his campaigns to Ferghana.

Even with modern day transport and conveniences our 2,000-kilometre-long journey was physically demanding. Yet two millennia ago, the Han army and emissaries like Zhang Qian made their expeditions on horseback or on foot. Though they had to contend with hostile tribes and indifferent city-states along the way, they still managed to command territories thousands of kilometres away from the imperial capital Changan.

Like Qin Shihuangdi, Wudi was obviously an emperor of great vision. I can only wonder at his drive and determination and the immense courage of those who served him, as well as of the traders, soldiers and artisans who plied this ancient route. Their strength and tenacity should serve as inspiration for the revival of China’s western regions.