Between smoke and lions

Members of the Yap clan put on a show to mark the 800th birthday of their patron deity at George Town’s Yap Kongsi Temple. Image: Altai World Photography.

I’m stuck between an ornate lion and a burning pyre. Sweat trickles down my back as grotesque painted faces peer at me through thick smoke. The ash, falling in lazy swirls like snow, further disorients my senses as I try to reconcile the visual blizzard with the clammy conditions. I can feel the perspiration begin to gather on my shins; the cinders stick to my slick brow, filling my eyes with stinging tears as clouds gather in the overcast sky.

No, this isn’t some malaria-addled fever dream. I’ve just stumbled across one of Penang’s many rich cultural events: this time to celebrate the 800th birthday of the Yap clan’s patron deity, Hoay Che Chun Wang.

A Chinese Opera performer adopts an exaggerated pose to appease their clan god. Image: Altai World Photography.

Hundreds of Yap clan members have flocked to the diminutive but dignified Yap Kongsi Temple, united by a shared Hokkien Chinese heritage, a proud history in Penang, and a desire to throw a birthday party fit for a king amongst gods.

Instead of 800 candles the Yap clan members have taken to burning entire wads of fake money, stacked like lego blocks around a two-meter wide drum. The flames set the already stifling conditions to sauna-like proportions, but the revellers don’t seem to mind. After all, by standing at the altar to the Chinese god of prosperity, they’re simply raising their chances of an auspicious year ahead.

A member of the Yap clan burns paper money at Yap Kongsi clan house. Image: Altai World Photography.

The procession unfurls in a flurry of colour and sound: a furious assault on the senses that leaves me both enthralled and utterly drained. One devotee at a time approaches the altar to burn a stack of joss sticks. They shake them firmly for maximum smokiness before bowing repeatedly and stepping into the temple. Old woman yelp reprimands at their bumbling young charges, who frantically struggle to keep up the manic pace of their elders in loading up the drum with more paper money. Carloads of people emerge with arms overflowing with plates of food for the offering table. I can’t see the altar itself for all the food: glistening biscuits, spring rolls, pineapples, mandarins, apples, cuts of meat, whole cooked Hainanese chicken, florescent rice and a tantalising assortment of dim sum buns.

Food offerings at the altar of the Yap clan’s patron deity, Hoay Che Chun Wang. Image: Altai World Photography.

A middle-aged man in a flaming red shirt introduces himself to us as Spencer, and eagerly explains the basics of why his clan is celebrating. In broken English he motions towards the overwhelming spread of food before us.

“Our God is a king and a king needs an army,” he says. “The army needs to be fed.”

Yap clan member Spencer adds a wad of paper money to the burning drum. Image: Altai World Photography.

Suddenly the Yap faithful make way for a troupe of costumed performers, who materialise through the haze in Chinese opera-style facepaint and stunning sequined outfits that whirl with the smoke drafts. As the band strikes up a cacophonous chiming of drums, flutes and cymbals, the actors begin a series of grand exaggerated gestures. The old men tug at their fake waist-length beards in a show of ancient wisdom; the women begin a high-pitched chanting match, posing questions with a wide comic sweep of the arms. They begin rapidly circling the offering table as the drums build their tempo. With costumes fluttering from harnesses behind them in a blaze of primary colour, I feel I’m watching a whirling flock of mystical birds.

Colourful Chinese Opera performers mark the birthday celebration with a grand display. Image: Altai World Photography.

Though to my untrained eyes the scene plays out at random, there’s a rhythm and portent to each grossly exaggerated posture. It’s a rough performance, peppered with awkward pauses and a few self-conscious glances. But it’s not for the tourists. There is no pretense to this show: these are not professionals, but merely familial revellers, friends-of-friends and neighbours. And ultimately the final appraiser is a divine being, not some sweaty Westerner who just happened to chance upon it.

A Chinese Opera performer shares a secret smile. Image: Altai World Photography.

The painted faces smile at each reprieve, obviously enjoying the attention they’re gathering from a crowd of wary tourists who have come to ogle at arm’s length. Just as suddenly as it began, the show ends and the crowds disperse. The carloads of food are loaded back into their respective vehicles and the blazing drums are left to extinguish their cash. After rebuffing several friendly offers to stick around for the main feast, I leave with a smile on my face and some festively decorated rice desserts moulded into abalone shapes. The Yap clan wouldn’t let me leave empty-handed.

The Yap Kongsi clan house at dusk, George Town, Penang. Image: Altai World Photography.

In the gathering dusk, long after the other tourists had shrugged and walked away perhaps still perplexed, I return to the Yap Clan Temple. The smouldering drums are the only sign remaining of the day’s earlier frenetic activity; the temple itself is still and calm. Muted chatter fills the halls as I enter its golden glow, a subdued counterbalance to the day’s earlier chaos. Friends and acquaintances shake hands and congratulate each other on another year’s festivities. The tables are set with soda bottles and longneck beers ready for the evening feast. It’s back to being just another birthday party. And yet the giant idol looms silently overhead, watching patiently as his devoted army of followers wait to be fed.

A clan member lights candles at the Yap Kongsi Clan Temple. Image: Altai World Photography.