Celebrating Chinese New Year

(Proximamente en español)

Only a few hours remain on the Chinese lunar calendar in this year of the Rat. While much of the world celebrated the New Year more than 3 weeks ago, many of those who hadn’t, many of those in East Asia, especially in China, will celebrate the forthcoming year of the Ox. Each year promises prosperity (at least for some) as well as happiness and fortune according to the old augers made by the sages that guarded Taoist temples hidden away high in the vertiginous mountains of China. Unarguably the most important national holiday, New Year in China is a celebration of unparalleled scale and scope. The government mandate of two entire weeks of vacation as well as a large-scale suspension of production is unique in its origin. How magnanimous of the government of such an industrious and indefatigable people to not only permit but to demand a 10-day hiatus from that ever-so exigent duty, namely, work.

Considered extremely pragmatic and realistic, the Chinese are also deeply superstitious, especially the generations born pre-revolution. Posting an upside-down Fu (fortune) character on the entrance door of the home is de rigueur for those wishing to be blessed by good luck, prosperity and fortune but this age old practice stems from a little-known story of the beast called Nian (year). Before New Year was celebrated, it was a much feared time of the year. People awaited in fear on the eve of the New Year as the horrific, ravenous and blood-thirsty beast, Nian, descended upon villages and cities devouring highly-prized crop and beloved children of the villagers on the first day of New Year. Lands were devastated and families entered in mourning for the loss of their little ones. One year, villagers called a town meeting and recalling the offering made to dead ancestors, they planned to place offerings outside their door in hopes that Nian would be satiated by the offerings of food rather than devour crops and children. That year, the city rejoiced for their triumphant plan, not a child was lost nor a field destroyed. Concurrently, villagers made the fortuitous discovery that Nian feared the color red and kept a distance from children in red clothes. The brilliant discovery begot the tradition of posting red banners and hanging red lanterns outside houses and dressing children in new red clothes.

The majority of Chinese today is not by any means religious nor a god-fearing people, but New Year holds a sacred place in society, in family, and even in the heart. Contrary to common western ways of celebration, exorbitant parties in exclusive venues, huddling around points of spectacle (NYC, Las Vegas) or getting plastered by an endless queue of alcohol, the Chinese have a very different and more sensible way of celebrating. For those that migrate to far away cities in search of riches or survival, New Years is the one rare time during the year in which one can afford to go back home, to their hometown where parents are growing old as children as growing up. No matter how far, or near, the extensive migrations that transpire in anticipation of New Year is only a fragment of the story.

Whether it lands in the month of January or February, the Chinese New Year happens in the coldest months of winter in most parts of China. Before the so called Era of China, termed by economists predicting China’s present incurrence into the world’s premier nation, there was much poverty and very limited technology, even simple technology to keep houses sufficiently warm without residents having the need to pile on thermal underwear and overcoats. Even now, that hasn’t changed much in the south where heat is still an anomaly and restaurants operate with stand-alone units of machines that double as heaters and air-conditioners emitting just enough heat for those within three meters of its radius. So if you’ve ever seen an old Chinese movie where Beijing residents huddle around a coal heater in the dead of winter, well picture that but with a lukewarm air blowing machine in place of the rudimentary coal heater, that’s much of southern China today.

Brave or cowardly, strong or weak, all those that have a place called home and parents still living must make the perilous journey to reunite with the family for those precious first days of New Year. In the dead of winter, the gathering of the family (the extended family of course) warms the home, whether modest or extravagant, old or new, and warms the shivering body from the freezing-wind assaulted exposed skin to the tightly-bundled and boot-covered toes to the innards, invisible to the naked eye, down to the bones and finally to the heart; the love of family penetrates and warms us through.

The family with a son or daughter, father or mother, abroad or absent due to any reason is a family incomplete, one that will celebrate in good cheer welcoming in the year, but under the guise of happiness, there is always that pulling at the heart reminding everyone of that sister, brother, daughter, son, whose presence is missed and lamented in private, but never openly so not to spoil the festive and jolly mood of New Year.

In Chinese communities abroad, gatherings are held that recreate as best as possible that coziness, familiarity and warmth so characteristic of family gatherings during this time. Here in Lima on the eve of New Years, fragmented families along with their Chinese as well as Peruvians friends, sat around tables replete with comforting home-styled cooking, like tofu and mushroom casserole, along with delicacies like shark’s fin soup, all the time while the TV blasted the annual show of famous Chinese personalities singing songs praising the homeland, or showcasing dances of ethnic tribes and some of the best comedians in the country in comic theatre. The spectacular and eagerly-anticipated marathon show reaches Chinese all around the world and for those away from the motherland, brings together those Chinese hearts who long to be home for New Year.