On Thursday night, when the moon was at its fullest and brightest all year, it was mid-Autumn Festival time. And we had a
date with the Fire Dragon of Tai Hang.
We were expecting the dragon of western imagination - red-cloth,
complete with big figure head whose mouth open and shuts, that dances and reels
through the streets…though we did wonder what the (dangerous?!) twist on this would
be when ‘fire’ is added into the mix.
Claire, our newest guest Sandie and I all headed out to Tai
hang – no longer the tiny fishing village in which the tradition of Fire Dragon
dancing stems – to find out, along with thousands of others. The myth runs that
the villagers killed a serpent one night, but awoke to find its body
mysteriously disappeared. Soon after, everyone began to fall ill – until a
villager had a vision on the Buddha, who told him to hold a fire dragon dance.
The story goes that the noise, fire, sulphur and firecrackers drove the disease
out.
The tiny, twisting streets were packed with excited
families, the children toting animal-shaped lanterns and festooned with glow
stick hats, necklaces and bracelets. We arrived just before the show was due to
start, but the launch place for the dance was crammed full. We muscled down the
street, took a short-cut led by a local tourist guide and bagged ourselves a
spot right up against the crowd barrier.
The crowds swelled, the lanterns proliferated, and a drummer
on a mobile platform appeared, thumping out a frantic rhythm that echoed off the
looming high rise buildings all around. And with almost no warning, there was a
loud cheer near our vantage point. The attending police snatched back some tape
that had been strung across a side street off to our right, through which the
dragon careered at top speed, all aflame, swift-moving figures and drama.
The dragon was made up entirely of huge incense sticks stuck
into a wooden body, held up at metre intervals by bamboo poles. The head was
the same, bug curls of wood and incense sticks making out a snarling maw and
crazed eyes. It was terrific, and looked alive as its body snaked back and
forth across the road ahead of the bopping, tilting head. The beast was a
jaw-dropping 67 metres long, and had 300 people holding it up. The burliest of these
was saved for the enormous tail, that bristled like a flaming mace in the creature’s
wake; and its bearer would run full pelt at the crowd, shaking the tail and
roaring, causing squeals of fear and delight as the fire came within inches of
startled faces. It came so close to us as we chased the tail at one point that
a stick fell out and hit the deck in a shower of sparks at Sandie’s feet.
After a while, we headed off to avoid the crush – but on
leaving got an unexpected treat. As we left, the dragon was let loose, and spilt
out into all the warrens of tiny back streets, pursued by the cheering crowd.
So as we walked away, we heard the drums fade and roll over us at intervals,
and got the occasional glimpse of a burning body jogging by down a distant
alley, or once the tail shaking around a corner from our vantage point on a
road bridge.
The event ends, we hear, as this and 6 other dragons
converge near the sea, and all are ‘drowned’ in the waves. If anything could
beat our experience this Thursday, that would be it. Next year, next year…
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