Ghost Month started last weekend. During the seventh month of the Chinese calendar, the gates of the underworld slowly swing open, and the spirits are allowed free run of the earth once again. The gates are wide open at the mid-point of the month, and after that point they slowly start to close. At the beginning of September, Ghost Month ends, and it's Moon Cake Month. Yay!

Anyway, it's not time for moon cakes yet, and the spirits are roaming. To keep them happy (because unhappy spirits can cause trouble), believers burn joss paper (sometimes in considerable quantities), and leave little food offerings at the side of the road.

And they put on entertainments, to amuse the spirits during their holiday.

The birthday of the deity who presides over Ah Ma Hu Temple, just down the road from us, falls in Ghost Month. So, as last year, a big stage has been set up, and there have been nightly performances.



Yesterday, we stumbled upon all this on our way back from an evening cup of tea, and watched for a little while. This evening, we turned up at 8 pm with the intention of taking in a bit more of the show.

The introductory fire crackers were exploding just as we arrived:


A couple of rows of chairs had been set out, and -- as our experience has been that hardly anyone attends these performances -- we took seats at the end of the front row. That was a mistake. We were politely asked to move to the second row.

Then another lady told us we shouldn't really be sitting in those seats at all. She brought some chairs for us from the supply at the back, and the three of us sat behind the two empty rows.

She was Sarawak-born, she said, but now lives in Singapore. She comes back regularly to visit her elderly mother, who loves these old plays.

And the reason we shouldn't sit in the two rows at the front? Because they're reserved for the ghosts.

We didn't know that. Last year, there had been no chairs set out, and everyone went to fetch his/her own, so there was no confusion. But this year, you needed to know. And it wasn't just our foreign selves who didn't know. Several little clumps of people, arrived, sat down, and were promptly moved on.

They probably weren't told specifically why. We weren't initially, either. It was our Singapore-resident informer who felt free to be explain. Generally, you see, it's considered bad fortune to talk too much about ghosts during Ghost Month... I guess that's understandable. Living people, after all, consider it a bit rude if they hear themselves being talked about...

Anyway, the spectacle:







I have no idea of the plot (though, given the prominent involvement of a baby, I wonder if it was The Orphan of Zhao). But not knowing the plot is not a problem. You can make up your own plot, helped along by the non-stop action: Lots of diabolical laughter, lots of swooning, a mysterious letter, and a fair amount of biffo.


And the performance is always impressive. The costumes are gorgeous (and the frequent changes must make the players dizzy). The tableaux are pleasing, and constantly vary. And the gestures are larger than life, as the players furl and unfurl their watersleeves, and take very deliberate forward- and side-steps (a manoeuvre that also serves to show off the cute slippers).






There were a few differences from the performance we'd seen last year. Then, the singing and the music were live; this year both were recorded, with the players miming (which still involves a considerable effort on their part, as there must be masses of lines to learn). Last year, there was a kind of comic interlude that involved some repartee with the audience. This time, it was all much more serious.

And this year, there was some rite going on in the temple at the same time the opera was playing. Whatever it was, it involved chanting, a shawm-like wind instrument, and a variety of percussion instruments. When these all reached a crescendo, they almost drowned out the singers. Towards the end, a ton of offerings were made in the big fire-pits outside, and our little audience was engulfed in smoke... The players remained undismayed, however. They're obviously used to these things.





We didn't stay right till the end. We'd already watched until well past our bedtime, and I suspect our constitutions don't match up to those of the ghosts.

But I'm always grateful to experience these things. Ghost Month and Chinese Opera are a reminder of how very different our local world is from anything we've known previously, and how very little -- despite our almost five-year stay, and not insignificant efforts -- we really understand.