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- VOL. 12.7
Wrapped in Comfort at Le Meridien’s Portofino Ristorante
Piercing – The Rite of Purification
Epat Diary: Dangerous Liaisons
Why on earth should the gods care about such things? It’s a long story…
According to Taoist belief, the spirit world replicates that on Earth. There is thus a hierarchy of gods and devils, each with peculiar powers. A truly mighty devil mightn’t be much overawed by a trifling ancestor god, might in fact completely elude him. To overcome such a one required calling for a visitation from the most powerful gods, who were all Sons of Heaven, that is, emperors of China.
But emperor gods could not dwell among ordinary plebeians unless certain conditions were met. One was that the area be sanitized, because the emperor’s residence must be spotless; another that those in contact with him were free of bad breath and body odours (hence, no SEX!). That was the way — the Tao — of palace life.
Taoist belief maintains that spirit and breath are one, that sweet breath signifies a good soul and bad breath one tending towards evil; the occasionally foul exhalations emitted by the posterior intestinal orifice were regarded as positively devilish; and the possibility of nasty devils farting forth in the emperor’s presence was not to be entertained.
So, in his harem he was surrounded by women selected not only for beauty and manners but for regular digestion. Garlic, onions, Chinese chives and other stuff beloved of the French were forbidden to his minions, as were alcohol and meat.
A meatless diet was considered highly felicitous to Taoist development. One story from the beginning of the Han dynasty (c. 200 BC) tells of the emperor Bu Ti, a saintly Taoist who asserted the virtues of vegetarianism. So Bu Ti’s consort, jealous of this belief, thought to test him. She baked chopped por four dim sums, to hide what was inside, and brought them as an offering But the Taoist, sensing her ruse, flung them away without tasting. Later, where they landed grew four plants — ordinary garlic, onion, Chinese chives and Chinese garlic.
Since ancient times, then, Taoism and the Imperial court put a priority on vegetarianism, and any community wishing the Son of Heaven to visit must follow suit. His visit is central to the Phuket Vegetarian Festival. If Kiu Ong Iah doesn’t descend among his people, the festival is not a success.
His presence is all-important because, once in residence, he is a truly sovereign remedy against lurking demons, for emperors come not alone but with a retinue of warrior spirits. Kathu temple calculates an army 341,000 strong arrives, divided beneath five banners guarding the edges of the Earth (the world, according to Taoist classics, is square and thus has edges).
To demonstrate their presence and power, these spirits commandeer bodies of chosen devotees (so-called mah song or entranced horses), whose forms they mutilate — in the various ways you see in photos — before returning them to their owners at the end of the festival, unharmed and intact. The Son of Heaven and his army, with their bizarre and bloody rituals, together with non-stop noise and bursting of firecrackers, are thought to provoke in demons a wish to flee as far away as possible (in some other folks, too).
Vegetarianism, ritual cleanliness, and sexual abstinence, therefore, are not adjuncts to the rites, they are fundamentals. Unless the populace disposes itself thus, the emperor cannot visit the city; and if he doesn’t visit the city then all the devils will remain and plague it with evils. Ipso facto.
The Tao further provides a clue to the festival’s timing, and as to why adherrents wear white. For prosperity, the Tao of Man and the Tao of Nature must harmonise. Nature has its seasons: spring and summer are when all things grow and mature; autumn, on the other hand, is when leaves fall and plants die. Taoists associate it with dryness and sorrow, and made its reigning colour white.
To harmonise better with the Tao of Nature, officials avoided scheduling prisoner executions during spring and summer. But with the ninth month’s advent, an unusual number of criminal souls were released from their clay — all of them, it was thought, bent on mischief or revenge. It was thus regarded as a time of especial danger by those who could feel derangement in the Tao. From their point of view, calling annually on an army of spirit warriors to protect one’s city or clan against gangs of marauding ghosts was mere prudence.
As for the bloodless vegetarian festival celebrated in Bangkok and among other Chinese communities, although dressed up as Mahayana Buddhism, it is still rooted in Taoism. The rites are less sensational, but the purpose is that of Phuket’s fest: to drive away evil and ensure prosperity. The Chinese character, for example, associated with vegetarianism is written in red ink on a yellow background, the imperial colours, so visiting emperor gods must know it’s for them. It reads: “No smelly food here!”
Thus the Tao, apparently, explains much that lies behind Chinese vegetarian rites; much but not all. Kiu Ong Iah, by general agreement, is the Phuket fest’s protagonist. But who he is, whether there’s one of him or nine, whether he’s an emperor star from from the Big Dipper (or the Great Bear), a nine-year-old boy emperor who killed himself when the Mongols conquered China, or the name for nine heroes of the Boxer Uprising in 1900 remains a matter of some dispute.
There are numerous theories as to who Kiu Ong Iah might be, and the various temples where his rites are celebrated in Phuket have by no means harmonised on the issue. Representatives have met with that aim in view, only to part in acrimony (not, however, during the celebration; along with meat, sex, etc, ill-feeling is also forbidden).
So one way of viewing the Vegetarian Festival is as a giant party, in which all the revellers are calling on the guest of honour, but no one knows who he is. Still, that’s as it should be: Phuket’s Tao would be deranged were no mysteries left unsolved. After all, the nature of the Chinese is inscrutability, isn’t it?