Beating the Devil - under a flyover.
"The devil beaters (打小人) are elderly and middle-aged ladies who recite incantations as they pound at a paper effigy of a white tiger."
Canal Road is transformed. Once a delightful stream, it carried the run-off from Happy Valley down to the harbour. Banyan trees lined the banks, providing welcome shade with a spot to fish or contemplate life. That idyllic setting is long gone.
These days it’s the centre of a transport interchange. The flyover above, colloquially known as ‘Goose Neck Bridge’, links the Cross Harbour and Aberdeen tunnels. At the same time, branch roads feed traffic into Wanchai, Happy Valley and the bustling Causeway Bay. Buses belching diesel fumes discharge passengers as private cars struggle to find parking. On one side are rough tenements and a street market; on the other, Times Square.
Meanwhile, you can dispel evil in one corner, hemmed in by the passing crowds. Plus, for a few dollars, press a curse on your enemies. Madam Yung beckoned me over, “Leng Jai, come here”.
Before I knew it, seated on a stool, burning paper circling my head as the passing locals smirked at a silly Gweilo. Between Madam Yung’s broken English and my clumsy Cantonese, communication takes place.
The devil beaters (打小人) are elderly and middle-aged ladies who recite incantations as they pound at a paper effigy of a white tiger. A shoe “beats away the devil”. The white tiger represents your enemies. This Taoist ceremony dispels lousy luck; it's linked to the lunar calendar.
The ladies are present all year round, with four on duty today. In early March, the “Feast of Excited Insects” marks the end of winter and heralds the spring. A new beginning, a new hope. Tradition dictates this is the best time to dispel evil. It’s the primary beating season.
Madam Yung took my date and time of birth. “No way, you look so young!” ... she’s got the patter perfect.
I write my name on prayer papers and offer incense to the Kwan Dai, Kwan Ying and the Monkey King. Three deities: Madam Yung is taking no chances with me. Again, flaming paper circles my head, a bell is rung, and rice is cast about with abandon.
Business is busy today. A couple of grannies are hard at work at nearby booths, wreaking vengeance on evildoers. The thud-thud reverberates under the bridge, despite the traffic noise. Meanwhile, meters away, a group of Muslim ladies are conducting an Islamic chant. Both sides were bothered by the other.
Madam Yung is now asking who I want cursing. I’m reluctant to offer a specific name or individual. She’s got customers waiting, so all my enemies, unnamed, are now getting blasted. She explains it's usually ex-lovers, former or current bosses, and mother-in-laws.
During the 2015 festival, a favourite target was Hong Kong’s then-leader, Chief Executive Leung Chun-ying. Madam Yung made a brisk trade in beating his effigy. It appears to have worked, as he’s no longer in office.
I asked Madam Yung how the ritual came about. She explained that in ancient times, rural women worshipped the white tiger and carried an image to ward off rats and snakes. These days, the paper image is transformed into someone who gets a curse placed on their head.
Madam Yung hands me her business card. She does house calls, fung shui, and several other spiritual services. When I asked her age, she said, “I was here before the British arrived.” She’s looking well. 1841 was some time ago.
Before leaving, a blessed parchment gets thrust into my hand. Stern instructions come forth that it must be carried in my wallet and not opened. I make my payment.
The following customer takes his seat, and more enemies get beaten. I can see the merit in it. As a weapon of choice, the shoe beating an image is far better than a knife or gun. The punter comes away feeling the balance of power has shifted a little. How many ill-favoured bosses or deceitful ex-lovers feel the phantasmal slap of a shoe? I wonder.
February 2018
These days it’s the centre of a transport interchange. The flyover above, colloquially known as ‘Goose Neck Bridge’, links the Cross Harbour and Aberdeen tunnels. At the same time, branch roads feed traffic into Wanchai, Happy Valley and the bustling Causeway Bay. Buses belching diesel fumes discharge passengers as private cars struggle to find parking. On one side are rough tenements and a street market; on the other, Times Square.
Meanwhile, you can dispel evil in one corner, hemmed in by the passing crowds. Plus, for a few dollars, press a curse on your enemies. Madam Yung beckoned me over, “Leng Jai, come here”.
Before I knew it, seated on a stool, burning paper circling my head as the passing locals smirked at a silly Gweilo. Between Madam Yung’s broken English and my clumsy Cantonese, communication takes place.
The devil beaters (打小人) are elderly and middle-aged ladies who recite incantations as they pound at a paper effigy of a white tiger. A shoe “beats away the devil”. The white tiger represents your enemies. This Taoist ceremony dispels lousy luck; it's linked to the lunar calendar.
The ladies are present all year round, with four on duty today. In early March, the “Feast of Excited Insects” marks the end of winter and heralds the spring. A new beginning, a new hope. Tradition dictates this is the best time to dispel evil. It’s the primary beating season.
Madam Yung took my date and time of birth. “No way, you look so young!” ... she’s got the patter perfect.
I write my name on prayer papers and offer incense to the Kwan Dai, Kwan Ying and the Monkey King. Three deities: Madam Yung is taking no chances with me. Again, flaming paper circles my head, a bell is rung, and rice is cast about with abandon.
Business is busy today. A couple of grannies are hard at work at nearby booths, wreaking vengeance on evildoers. The thud-thud reverberates under the bridge, despite the traffic noise. Meanwhile, meters away, a group of Muslim ladies are conducting an Islamic chant. Both sides were bothered by the other.
Madam Yung is now asking who I want cursing. I’m reluctant to offer a specific name or individual. She’s got customers waiting, so all my enemies, unnamed, are now getting blasted. She explains it's usually ex-lovers, former or current bosses, and mother-in-laws.
During the 2015 festival, a favourite target was Hong Kong’s then-leader, Chief Executive Leung Chun-ying. Madam Yung made a brisk trade in beating his effigy. It appears to have worked, as he’s no longer in office.
I asked Madam Yung how the ritual came about. She explained that in ancient times, rural women worshipped the white tiger and carried an image to ward off rats and snakes. These days, the paper image is transformed into someone who gets a curse placed on their head.
Madam Yung hands me her business card. She does house calls, fung shui, and several other spiritual services. When I asked her age, she said, “I was here before the British arrived.” She’s looking well. 1841 was some time ago.
Before leaving, a blessed parchment gets thrust into my hand. Stern instructions come forth that it must be carried in my wallet and not opened. I make my payment.
The following customer takes his seat, and more enemies get beaten. I can see the merit in it. As a weapon of choice, the shoe beating an image is far better than a knife or gun. The punter comes away feeling the balance of power has shifted a little. How many ill-favoured bosses or deceitful ex-lovers feel the phantasmal slap of a shoe? I wonder.
February 2018
Copyright © 2015