I Walked 20km For A Goddess I Barely Believe In | 妈祖绕经 – 不一样的热血
As a disclaimer, what follows is a semi-reliable, memory driven recollection. The most important part of the story is how it made me feel, and as such, some details are going to be left out (because they were not memorable so I’ve probably forgotten most of it).
This story starts with my mother's selfless volunteering of her oldest son. I was already intrigued when Allen, her friend’s son, had mentioned in passing that he was going to participate in the Dajia Mazu Pilgrimage with his dad, and asked if I was interested. Mazu, put briefly, is a Taoist goddess of the sea, and an important figure in Taiwanese religion and folklore. You could not imagine how little all this meant to my mother, whose main consideration was that this was a “rare opportunity”, and that this was “very Taiwan”. I was interested, but very put off by this auntie’s (my mother, for the uninformed) wet market sales tactic, and the fact that they were going to leave in 3 hours. In addition, there was 40% battery in my phone, no change of clothes, and the fact that this was 2pm, and that I had been awake since 6am. As a questionable maker of snap decisions, I agreed to go.
The basic gist of this pilgrimage, is that a statue of Mazu is placed in a sedan, and carried on foot from Jenn Lan Temple in Dajia, Taichung, down to Fengtian Temple, in Xingang, Chiayi, and back to Jenn Lan Temple, stopping by many temples along the way. “Temple hopping”, if you will. This goes on for 9 days and 8 nights. Along the way, devotees, also known as 香客 (joss tourists) follow the sedan on foot, on bicycles, in cars, on wheelchairs (this is not an embellishment), for various legs of the journey, some in hope of a blessing, some to give thanks, and at least one because their mother told them it was a rare opportunity. Other devotees in along the way set up stands giving out food, water, blinking lights to hook on your bags, partly to encourage the people walking, partly as a form of showing their piousness and solidarity to the cause, and partly because it was a good marketing tactic (more on this later).
The walk starts out from Dajia, but my journey began in Taipei. The first 3 hours or so consisted of getting on the train to Dajia and trying to catch some last-minute sleep before going on an hours-long walk. Many times, as I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, I questioned my decision to actively make an irrational choice, just because it seemed like I could get a story to tell my friends. It was not surprising then, that not much of that much craved last-minute sleep was caught. The train soon pulled into Dajia station. It was nondescript and tired looking – the kind of place that exists as a way to get to another place. At any other time of the year that is. At that point in time, there were signs that this was not going to be a normal week. There was electricity in the air, as the timeworn train station welcomed probably two-thirds of its annual quota of passengers, most of whom were the aforementioned devotees. It was just 8.30pm, some two and a half hours from the sedan setting off, and there was already a crowd resembling one from a rock music festival. Different demographics, but you get the idea. Imagine the buzz going through the crowd, as great old ones with grey hairs and walking sticks elbow their way to the front to catch a glimpse of their favourite Goddess. In the temple, where a swarm was gathering, I received a clean elbow into my side, from an old guy who could barely walk, and yet was determined to enter the hall ahead of me. I wasn’t even that keen to be first. It felt like a “just in case” elbow. I knew this was a big thing for Taiwanese, but I think that was the moment I REALLY knew.
After Allen had “checked in” to Zhen Lan Temple, we set off on the walk. We were going to leave around 1 hour ahead of the sedan, in an advanced party of sorts, because “it would be way less crowded”. At the edge of Da Jia, loud electronic music blasted from huge stereo systems, as buxom, skimpily dressed, young ladies gyrated to poles, both attached to the back of a pickup truck in a Mad Max style, mobile concert situation. I know I said this was like bar hopping, but this had to be one of the more surprising things I’ve seen to date. Still, morale raised, sleepiness temporarily forgotten about, we walked along these trucks because the music gave us energy. This situation would only last for about 800m. The trucks stopped, and turned back towards town, the ladies cheered everyone on, while throwing posters of themselves into the crowd. A great way to market yourself to the largest audience, once a year. Marketing lesson taken to heart, we moved on.
The next 5 odd hours and 20 odd kilometers passed in a blur of time, people, food, temples, and toilets. Admittedly, exercise has not been a part of my daily routine for years, and I expected my body not to handle this sudden increase in activity too well. It turned out pretty alright, thanks to a comfortable 19 degrees Celsius temperature, and even comfortabler shoes.
We did an overnight walk, but aside from the darkened sky, it might as well have been peak hour. The vibe had begun to resemble a music festival I had partaken in some years ago in Europe (not Tomorrowland because NO!) There was a buzz in the air constantly, and the aforementioned roadside refreshment and replenishment stands, constant shouts of encouragement, music blaring from the boot stereos of heavily modified cars, and an eclectic variety of street performers, as we took steady steps forward.
Instead of a play-by-play, I figured it would be more interesting to break down this walk into a highlight section of sorts. Let’s start with the marketing aspect that I had teased at the beginning. How was marketing tied into any of this? The first obvious example was the dancers giving out posters and namecards. Further along the walk, upon being handed a band of blinking safety lights (after liking and following the Facebook page of a temple group), I realized it was branded with their logo and social media handles. Talk about engagement by giving out free gifts, in this case, possibly a lifesaving one. Over the course of the 20km, food, water, and coffee were very generously handed out, from tents with company logos prominently displayed. There were also pick up trucks that gave tired walkers a lift, with equally prominent company logos. Despite the very commercial element of gift giving and service provision, I would choose to attribute the act to one of being kind-hearted, at its root.
Over the course of the 20 plus kilometers walked, we probably hit around 6-7 temples, each of those along a preplanned route. This was done due to instances where different temples in the past would get into physical altercations trying to divert Ma Tzu into their temple, which is seen as a blessing. I’m sure physical injury was not part of that blessing, nor is a blessing that was achieved through combat, really a blessing. Each of the temples had their own place to “check in”, with the procedure essentially being waving a flag that was “bestowed upon you” around the joss altar. After eating that elbow to the ribs in Zhen Lan temple, I decided it was best for me to wait outside, enjoy the lively atmosphere, while Allen went about his religious pilgrimage. Some of the more memorable things I’ve seen in temples along the way were a Chinese orchestra quartet wearing sexily-cut qipaos, a self-service noodle soup station under a huge shelter, and psychedelic LED light shows. Most places also had “environmentally friendly” electronic firecrackers, as long as you didn’t count noise pollution. Environmentally friendly but definitely not aurally friendly. And this is coming from someone who listens to extreme metal on a daily basis. From the noises, to the lights, to the constant lingering smell of joss smoke, it was basically hours upon hours of sensory overload. In this hustle and bustle, you could only find peace from within. Maybe that was how they wanted people to attain inner peace.
Another interesting sight was a semi-famous mother and son pair, who do the full journey every year, carrying altars of their 家神 (home deity) on their back (like a backpack). The story goes that the mom was really sick, and the son went to pray to Mazu, promising to take their deity on the pilgrimage every year if she got better. She got better, so they do it, as a form of repayment and a show of devotion. People “in the scene” were clamouring to 结缘 (get acquainted) with them, and offer them their own encouragement. I was thankful for Allen for explaining everything to the ignorant(me) while on his own spiritual journey.
Near the end of the walk, we settled on a rest point at a temple near Shalu train station. We were going to take the morning train back, but there was still some time to go. Even then, we could only take a short break before moving into the train station for a longer rest, as people were starting to fill in. It is here I had to remind myself that what we were doing was the “lite” experience, being ahead of the bulk of the contingent travelling with the “goddess” herself. And this was only the first day. For the ones who had committed to going all the way, a long journey awaited them. There will also be more like us, who were only ever going to join a part of the journey. And for us, this current journey was nearing its end.
At the train station, there was finally a semblance of peace. People who were doing the same thing as us started to fill up the train station, finding a spot to lay down a mat and rest their weary feet. Perhaps because this was in the end, a religious pilgrimage, people offered their mats, water, snacks and words of encouragement to other people, free of the marketing elements. And perhaps, at the end of my few hours, I had finally experienced the real meaning of this walk.
Notes from a year on
I had offered this story to the Straits Times Lifestyle editor (sorry Clara!), but did not send her the above “completed” part in the end, because I felt like there were parts I could do better on. It is now almost a full year since I told her I would send it in for it to be looked at.
It had taken me the best part of a year to come back and clean this entry up, given the amount of things that had happened in the family, the biggest of which is a kidney transplant from my mom to my dad. Looking back, I am grateful for that sensory overload, which over distance and time, had distilled into something that I could still remember, and therefore still fill into the article. In the end, my mom had volunteered me into a story I could try to commit to writing to the best of my ability, and perhaps that is my blessing from that pilgrimage.
Allen, me, Allen’s dad 雄哥