At times it was like being in a war zone as the barrage of firecrackers went on for hours, rockets exploded and chaos reigned. Fervent crowds fought to get close to the palanquin carrying the goddess Matsu and were forced back by the stewards with shouts and sometimes blows. Marchers dressed in traditional soldiers' costumes and carrying banners followed. Pilgrims trailing behind looked like refugees, with their meager possessions and bedraggled looks.
Gunpowder and incense assailed the nostrils, drums set a martial pace, gongs were struck and Chinese horns blared. It was a riot of sound and color. Then, the heavens opened and the rain poured but the march went on, out of the city and into the countryside.
The pilgrims followed and locals turned out to burn ghost money, falling to the ground so the palanquin could pass over them and Matsu would bless them with health and fortune for the year ahead.
Though the eight-day Tachia Matsu pilgrimage (大
After a free lunch at the Tianhou Temple (天后宮) prepared by volunteers for the pilgrims, we set off to a warehouse to procure fireworks. We loaded up the lorries and then drove to Fulung Temple (福龍宮), not far from the city center and one of the main routes on the march. Here we waited. So far, it was all peace and light and the gods seemed to be smiling. Whole families had turned out for the occasion and the sun was shining dimly.
It may have been the betel nuts, the liquor, the cigarettes and the general excitement, but when the procession arrived at the temple and the fireworks were lit, it was Matsu madness. The crowd surged to get closer to the palanquin and it became a roiling mass, deafening and blinding. This went on for hours and climaxed around 10pm when the rain started bucketing down.
There was a continuous volley of fireworks and a small hiatus before the palanquin bearers and Matsu's retinue of followers charged with a great roar down an underpass, chased by a sea of people. There seemed to be fighting over control of the palanquin as another set of stewards took over; and there was a series of martial art displays, one of which included a 100-year-old turtle.
Then, I lost my money, the car and my patience. I was soaking, tired and hungry and couldn't take any more. Feeling pissed off seemed a reasonable reaction, especially when everyone kept saying it was all a blessing from Matsu.
Later, however, the car was found and after drying out and refueling I tracked down the march once again as it made its way out of the city, toward Yuanlin (員林) and Beitou (北斗). It was humbling to see the long file of pilgrims in their yellow plastic raincoats and sandals still following the procession. These people were not fit or young. They were hunched against the rain, their Tachia Matsu flags strapped to their backs. It was explained to me that maybe smaller misfortunes would prevent a catastrophe or would pay for future good luck. It seemed to make sense.
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