32. ONE FAMILY'S CHINESE CULTURE: PART II - Chinese New Year

Culture is a fabric woven from the yarns of tradition, beliefs and values. The fabric may fade over time as well as be altered when fashioned or worn by others.

The fabric in this post is dyed red . . . Red is the colour of happiness.

February 16^th: Chinese New Year - fire red.

February 16^th begins the Year of the Dog. Each year, I have to look up the date of Chinese (Lunar) New Year as it changes from year to year: not hard to do since the advent of Google.

In the time of my mother, she relied on her special Chinese calendars: red, stamped with auspicious gold symbols and if especially “authentic” featuring some folk character – an ancient with a long beard, flowing robes, standing slightly crooked over and supported by a staff; a pair of frolicking cherubs with hair gathered atop their heads into spiky pig tails; or some still-life involving carp, blossoms and a stylized hybrid fruit – not quite peaches but not persimmons either.

Posted above our kitchen table, Mother would declare the calendar: “Hóu leng” – very pretty.

As a child, we never talked about what made art pleasing, beautiful, or even gaudy. Unintentionally, I had been conditioned to believe: If the piece had western origins, it had to be good.

For my mother, I think the Chinese calendars served as talisman for the year, months, and days to come. Perhaps they also reminded her of life left behind.

I’m only guessing and will never know.

My speculation about Mother’s aesthetics and motivations may be overreaching. After all, she was in all matters practical, first. Her prized calendars were captioned in Chinese text. She could read them and they reported the dates of significance to a Chinese life.

Growing up, I knew few special preparations for the Chinese New Year.

For the January 1^st New Year, if my father was at home, my brother and I would stay up until midnight and go out and light strings of firecrackers. For what was only a brief interval, but much longer in a child’s mind, the rapid pops broke the crisp silence of the cold winter night.

However, Chinese New Year was quiet on the streets of Niagara Falls Chinatown and in our home.

Father kept the restaurant open. If she had sufficient time and the ingredients, Mother made dozens of dumplings: delicious steamed pockets stuffed with minced Chinese mushrooms, scallions, pork, shrimp, and water chestnuts.

I’d watch Mother flatten a pinch of wheat starch dough between her fingers, spin it into a round, curve a side up, pleat the other, scoop in filling, and seal the opening with a drop of water.

She’d arrange her uniform dumplings onto a lightly oiled pie pan with handles wired into the rim and holes punched into the bottom. (It was not until I was an adult that I ever saw a bamboo steamer.)

Mother tried to show me how to make the dumplings on a couple of occasions but my fingers were clumsy and she impatient.

If time and opportunity permitted us to visit other families around Chinese New Year, Mother would hand out hóngbāo – red packets of money – to the children. Seldom in those growing up years did I see the special red envelopes made for this purpose.

It wasn’t that I didn’t receive my share of lucky money: fancy packaging was not readily available in Niagara Falls. Instead, Mother saved and re-used red tissue paper she kept from other occasions.

One year she must have run out. Her red wrappers were created from the shiny red foil salvaged from the cartons of Du Maurier cigarettes that were sold in our restaurant. The print was clearly visible.

Mother would have been embarrassed not to have a red wrapper for the lai see whereas I felt embarrassed by the paper she used. At the time, I thought it was the contents that were significant in the exchange.

I was probably aware then, but too young to articulate, that this was just one aspect of the tension between her Chinese values and my developing western ones.

The reign of rooster is almost over and Year of the Dog about to begin. Even if I hadn’t learned this through Google search, the advent is around me here in Victoria.

Grocery store flyers proclaim “Gung Hay Fat Choy” and advertise their specials on desirable foods: duck, noodles, rice vinegar, bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, beans, leeks, pomelo, etc.

Canada Post has stamps as well as commemorative coins featuring Year of the Dog. Chinese New Year cards are sold at Hallmark Cards and even Walmart.

I google “Niagara Falls Chinese New Year” and see there is to be a Chinese New Year Gala at the Greg Frewin Theatre on Ellen Avenue. Attendees will enjoy:

“Delicious gourmet buffet dinner with featured Seafood dishes

120 minute show w/ intermission (normal show length = 90 min.)

New Year’s Gift: Niagara Ice Wine

Traditional Chinese Lion Dance

Decorated Theatre in Festival Tradition.”

I have attended similar Chinese New Year events in Victoria; although not likely on such a grand scale.

I wonder about the intended audience is for this Niagara Falls gala: Out-of-town Chinese who come to gamble at the casinos? Non-Chinese who come out to watch how the Chinese celebrate? Folks who are just looking a special, if not exotic, evening on the town?

When I see these kinds of advertised programs or events promising “tradition,” I cannot help but infer that my own Chinese upbringing has been lacking.

As a child, there were no lion dances down Park Street or Erie Avenue. In my home, the tradition of festival decorations was what I saw on my mother’s calendars.

The Niagara Falls Public Library Local History files contain newspaper clippings of past Chinese New Year celebrations held in Niagara Falls.

Family celebrations with special foods, red envelops, and new clothes are reported. 

I can relate to these news clips. I recognize a few of the photographed people (Robert Wong, wife Jean - Post 21, Loy Chong and wife Fung - Post 20). How they’ve described Chinese New Year is familiar.

However, in another article, "Casino Niagara Ushers in Chinese New Year" (Weekly Chronicle, February 12, 1997), Egen Hui, manager of international marketing for Casino Niagara is quoted as saying:

“We are taught from the time we are very young that meeting the God of Prosperity or having him stand behind you will bring you wealth and good fortune in the new year.”

I have missed out on this teaching and likely many other beliefs, too. At the same time, the opening of Casino Niagara in December 1996 has infused a different kind of Chinese culture into Niagara Falls.

I know what my family taught me about being Chinese. I also have my Niagara Falls Chinatown experience. Both these sources ceased when I left home. I’ve continued an informal education of being Chinese – mostly through travel and books.

At Chinese New Year, my parents would say “Gung Hay Fat Choy” (literally wishing you great happiness and prosperity) but within our family add, “Ngan lau leoi” (may wealth flow here).

I still nod and smile when someone wishes me, “Gung Hay Fat Choy” but for the past couple decades, I have replaced my greeting with the Mandarin: “Xin nian kuai le” (literally new year happy).