GHOST MARRIAGES IN CHINA*

Aposthumous wedding is neither strange nor inconceivable to anyone born and brought up in China.

There are, in this country, rituals which are barely known to the rest of the world and, although they may seem to be astonishing, extraordinary events ocurring in some mysterious country, in fact, for someone accustomed to seeing the veils lift from the China of myth and fantasy, they aren't surprising.

Thus, no one in this tiny Portuguese territory can be surprised at something which has been taking place on a fairly regular basis for centuries and is seen as perfectly normal. After all, if the living can marry, then why not the dead? Hence we may ask if life beyond the grave for the Chinese (marked for westerners by death, and the subsequent decay of the body) is, in fact, part of an eternal life where the soul carries on that which the body has ceased to do.

Little is known about the attitude of the Chinese towards this subject so I shall limit myself, at this stage, to a description of two young people who, instead of marrying in this world, met and fell in love in the after life.

It was one of those still nights which make people restless and keep them awake. Man Lou, an old lady, got up from her bamboo bed and shuffled to the street window. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat and she was trembling. Her nervousness was understandable. She was thinking about the strange scene which had just taken place and which had woken her up. She could still imagine the face of her daughter, dead for more than twenty years. She could still hear her voice. How pleasant it had been to see Chan Chi once more, that graceful child whom she had held in her arms, cold and stiff, when she was hardly five years old. Her face was the same, simply made more beautiful by the passage of those twenty years, but her voice had matured. Man Lou saw Chan Chi's eyes shining and when she started talking she felt in her heart the joy of a mother listening to her daughter's intimate secrets. This is what Chan Chi said: "Dearest Mother, I owe everything to you. I wouldn't have returned to awaken the sorrows you have carried in your heart since I left were it not that you could secure my future happiness. I'm happy in this place where I've been for the last twenty years and where I'm waiting for you. But I could be happier still if you wished.

I want to say that I'm only asking this because of my deep trust in you. I wish to marry. I'm sure you'll like my fiancé. He is gentle and good beyond words. I met him long ago while we were both still children. He got here shortly after me and his family is just as good as ours. His parents live quite near you and they, too, wish for the happiness of their son. Ngan Cong is an excellent young man and a suitable husband for your daughter. Farewell, dearest Mother, my future and my happiness rest in your hands."

Man Lou leaned against the window and looked up the sky where the stars were loosing their brightness. A clear light in the east announced the coming of daybreak. Man Lou called the maids and, as soon as she had eaten breakfast, she went out. A little girl followed her carrying a basket with several candles, a bundle of yellow joss-sticks and paper money to be burned in the temple.

They hastened into a narrow alley in a distant part of the city. At the other end stood a pagoda with two great lanterns at the entrance.

Man Lou approached the bonze who was chanting in a high pitched monotone, accompanied by a triangle struck at short intervals. The bonze, who had poor eyesight, stood up and took her into a small cubicle to the left of the temple. She gave him the joss-sticks and the candles and then told him of her dream. The bonze listened carefully, his eyes lowered, whilst he fingered some yellowed beads. At last they went back to the temple where, after a few prayers, the bonze assured Man Lou that her daughter would be overjoyed if she were to be married as soon as possible and that he himself would take charge of informing the fiancé's parents.

Some days later the bonze sent Man Lou instructions regarding the wedding service. She set to work immediately. The days that followed were devoted to shopping in the city where she sought out presents worthy of her daughter. On a day set by the bonze, the gifts were taken to the house of groom's parents. There were several pieces of jewellery, sumptuous bed linen, elegant furniture, two large chests filled with a trousseau of silk and lace, beautiful gowns of silk brocade and two gorgeous tea sets tied to the table with red silk ribbons. The presentation of gifts, as this ceremony is known, was carried out with all the elegance of the Orient accompanied by suitable music and the burning of fire-crackers. The neighbours, standing in the doorway, couldn't resist touching the objects being brought into the house where the deceased would soon meet his bride. Everyone discussed the presents, crying out with admiration.

Two great lanterns, decorated with rich silks with Chinese characters stamped in gold, hung at the entrance of the house to announce the forthcoming wedding to passers-by.

After several visits to the temple, the appointed day arrived and the guests, all in their best clothes, gathered in the house of the groom. The women showed off their expensive jewellery and put artificial flowers in their hair. Even the children were dressed up in brightly coloured silk tunics. A lavish banquet began at sunset and was to last through to the following morning. At that point the bride would enter the groom's house. Two big gas lamps illuminated the room where the guests played mah-jong, tin-cau and other Chinese games where small fortunes can be won and lost. The women, in groups, examined the gifts with typical feminine curiosity and whispered about the extraordinary happening. Many of them could remember holding little Chan Chi while others remembered how clever and lively Ngan Cong had been.

When the sun started to rise, everything came to a stop. It was time for the bride to arrive. The tables were pulled to one side, the candles and joss-sticks were lit and the door was opened to the sound of firecrackers.

Dressed in his ceremonial robes, the bonze waited at the door, chanting prayers and sprinkling the threshold with rice wine from tiny cups. Finally, all the guests gathered round a table where red candles were burning. Solemnly each one drank a sip from his tea-cup. Then the bonze announced that the bride was in their midst. The ceremony ended with another series of firecrackers.

The sun was already shining on the rooftops when the guests left for home, paying no heed, in their lively conversation, to the neighbours who hadn't slept a wink.

Man Lou, who according to Chinese tradition had not attended the ceremony, had spent the night at the window thinking about the ritual in the house where her daughter would now live. A strange smile crossed her thin lips and her slanting eyes closed slowly as if to savour the unexpected joy.

She foresaw the day when her Chan Chi would come to tell her of the birth of a son. It filled her with happiness... for then she might go to see him herself.

Translated by Nelly Visser

*By publishing this text the R. C. wishes to contribute to the memory of Deolinda da Conceição, an outstanding journalist and specialist in Macanese culture. At the same time the I. C. M. has reprinted her book "Cheong-Sám - A Cabaia". The text printed here, not included in that anthology, was published in the newspaper "Notícias de Macau".