This weeks
report from the far side comes from a very pleasant little café in South
Dongguan which goes by the name of 'Green Light'. Apparently they were going to
go with the name 'Red Light' but realised that in that case no one would stop
in China…
I just asked
the helpful young chap behind the counter for the wifi password and was told
that it was 'ba leo', which translates to eight sixes. Such a password in not
unusual in China where belief in the powers of numbers, in many ways similar to
the Western superstition of Numerology, but far more widespread and far more
accepted here. The number six is thought to encourage the smooth running of
events, and hence is considered in a very positive light. Quite a few
passwords, and a huge number of telephone numbers for commercial companies,
including large amounts of this particular digit.
The love for
the number six though, is as nothing compared to the number eight, a number
that the southern Chinese equate with wealth, mainly because of the sound
itself 'ba' is very similar to the
Cantonese word for wealth 'fa' (at least when these words are spoken in an
appropriately Cantonese accent!). Given the obsession with wealth, and the
ostentatious display of it, in this country, it is small wonder that this
particular superstition is so widespread.
A common site
in this part of China is that of huge banners hung down the sides of new
developments encouraging potential buyers to contact the appropriate developer
via a telephone number containing huge numbers of eights. The idea is twofold;
firstly, compliance with the superstition itself, and secondly to tempt
investors into parting with their hard earned cash in the hope that the
apartment itself will be a good investment, hence bringing the much desired
wealth.
In much the
same way the word 'password' is the most common password in English speaking
countries, if you want a decent guess at one in South China try '88888888';
several cafés I have utilized in this trip have used that very combination of
not very random digits.
At the other
extreme is the number 4, or 'si', which is unfortunate in that it sounds very
much like the word for 'death'. As such, nobody seems to want to have much to
do with it here. The superstition is so ingrained that apartment blocks and
hotels very often do not have a fourth floor, simply skipping from three to
five when needed. This makes lifts and tad confusing as the panels have a
tendency to be a little inconsistent and jumbled in order to cope with this odd
discrepancy.
Again there
is also a commercial motivation for this lack of a fourth floor, especially in
hotels and new build apartment blocks. In practice these spaces would be hard
to fill as few Chinese would want to go against the trend. Also, on a practical
level, if you wanted to resell an apartment, the investor would likely face the
self-same problem as the developer. The bad luck becomes a self-fulfilling
prophecy…
Superstitions
of these sorts crop up again and again in everyday life in China. Recently I
was enjoying a coffee with a Chinese Friend, David, and was happily making
notes of the conversation in an attempt to improve my Mandarin. Without
thinking, I had taken out a red pen and was merrily scribbling away when David
stopped me mid-sentence. He seemed a little perturbed and asked me if I was
aware of the significance of red ink in China. Up to that point I had no notion
that such a thing could be considered problematic at all. David explained that
in previous times the use of red ink was associated with documents on which a
condemned man's name would be written in that colour. Since those far off days
the writing of any name in red ink is either thought to be very unlucky or
simply rude, the idea being that you wish ill for the person named.
Superstitions
of this sort seem to permeate life here. Even otherwise quite intelligent
people do not seem immune to these beliefs. A tai chi master who I have come to
know quite well is sometimes reticent to leave her home on certain days if ill
omens are indicated in her i ching inspired calender. She has a believe that
she is a 'fire' person and so hates forests and glades, believing them to be
somehow 'unhealthy' for her. When I was told this, the thought actually crossed
my mind that living in the city of Dongguan with air pollution regularly at
five times the World Health Organisation limit was probably a tad unhealthier,
but I managed to bite my lip and restrain myself from uttering such an
undiplomatic, if slightly more logical, statement.
Some time
back I accompanied the aforementioned middle-aged tai chi master to view a flat
she had a mind to purchase. After studiously looking around for ten minutes,
she announced that the apartment had bad 'Feng Shui' and would not be a
suitable place for her. Half an hour later we found ourselves looking around a
much pokier, darker, more hidden away flat but, much to my amazement, after
consulting her compass on numerous occasions she announced that the flow of
energy was perfect for her and that the place had good 'Feng Shui'. 'Hmm….' I
thought….
Back in the
very pleasant Green Light coffee I have been joined by an estate agent
persuading a young couple to part with their hard earned readies (literally
reddies here in China – the colour of the ubiquitous 100 RMB note). The
purchaser, his wife looking on nervously, is just about to sign on the dotted line.
I wonder if the fact that today is the 17th of March has any
relevance? Numerological thinking has people adding digits such as the 1 and 7
in 17 and coming out to 8, thereby rendering the day potentially a good one for
investing in such things as property. Given the ubiquity of the superstition
here, I would not be at all surprised if such notions played a part in the
'thinking' behind the decision to buy.
Strange
World…
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