The Household COO

Some time back when I was helping my MIL prepare some of the worship items for Charlie’s grandmother’s death anniversary, my MIL was telling me about some relative’s experience with their dead daughter’s spirit.  We were folding up the shiny bits of paper into shapes that resemble gold ingots from the olden days of Chinese history.  During the worship session, the paper gold ingots are burned as a means of transferring them to the spirit world so that the dead have money to buy the things they need.  You can also burn other things, like paper clothes, paper shoes and paper cars so that the dead have clothes to wear and a car to get around the afterlife in. 

My MIL was telling me that nowadays you could even buy paper bras to burn for the dead if you wanted to and they even come in different sizes!  She remarked that she thought this was a bit much and I naturally agreed.  Even burning the paper seemed a bit silly to me, although I got into the swing of pyromania pretty easily because I’ve always found it interesting to see flames and burning paper. 

Perhaps my MIL felt bad for ridiculing the beliefs of her religion, but she proceeded to tell me a story about some relatives.  This ceremony of burning things for the dead can only be performed by the live children in honour of their dead parents.  In the event where a child’s demise preceeds the parents, the parents are not allowed to burn things for their child’s use in the afterlife.  In the case of our relatives, the daughter passed away before the parents.  Being unable to burn things for her, my MIL said the dead daughter’s spirit returned to tell her parents that she was suffering in the afterlife because she had no money to buy food or clothes.  Since the parents can’t do the offerings, her sibblings had to burn the paper money and clothes for her.

As my MIL related that story to me, I merely nodded acceptingly, deciding that it was not worth the argument to dispute what our relatives experienced.  The whole time I listened, though, I was extremely skeptical.  I realise that this is the stance I switch into whenever I hear stories about spirits in this world.  It probably seems odd that I am a Christian, though more and more, I fear that there is a part of me that believes that nothing happens after we die.  We merely cease to exist.

Despite hearing from time to time about people who are more “sensitive” to spirits in our world, never having had a personal experience of my own to relate to, I can’t help the skepticism with which I view the subject.  Although I listen accommodatingly and I never openly dispute the experiences of others, the scientist in me finds logical explainations of what really happened.

It has also occured to me that perhaps I don’t want to believe because I fear such things.  The idea that spirits move around with us isn’t a particularly pleasant one in my book, even if they are friendly ones.

Even though I think it would be nice to have something to go to after we die, I question whether such a place exists to accommodate the growing number of souls that travel there.  I mean, even on Earth, our growing population is sapping the resources of our world.  Surely the afterlife (if it even exists) would have long since exhausted their resources with the never ending influx of souls when no souls leave?

It was Valentine’s Day and also the eighth day of New Year which is the official New Year’s Day for the Hokkien Chinese. 

Why don’t Hokkiens celebrate Chinese New Year on the same day as everyone else?  About six or seven years ago, my friend B explained the legend to me.  He had been reading a book about Chinese myths and legends.  According to the legend, some spirit or god or evil being (I can’t recall which) was after all the Hokkiens.  Warned of our impending doom by some guardian angel, all the Hokkiens hid in the bamboo forest until the evil spirit left.  Since the Hokkien people were in hiding during the actual New Year’s Day, they weren’t able to celebrate the New Year so they celebrated it on the eighth day - the day they came out of hiding.  Since then, the Hokkien people have always celebrated Chinese New Year on the eighth day to commemorate their lucky escape from extinction.

Below: A picture taken in 2006 because I haven’t yet downloaded the photos from camera from this year’s celebration.

There are no photos for this event in 2007 because I was still in confinement after delivering Gavin.  I’m not sure exactly why but we weren’t supposed to perform any of the New Year ceremonies last year because I had just delivered Gavin. 

The following post was originally written in Babylicious.  It has been copied here because having a Pui-Yuet for a month was another Chinese tradition I had to get accustomed to after I got married. 

If you have read any of my previous confinement posts, you may be aware that it is common practice in Asia for a “pui-yuet” (companion for the month) to live in with the new family to help look after mother and baby in the first month after delivery. This is an age-old practice that continues to provide a lot of benefits to both mother and child. The only problem in recent times is the difficulty of finding a good pui-yuet.

I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t keen on the idea of having a stranger live in my house and look after my newborn son and myself. After being forced to endure “the month”, I have to say that having a pui-yuet isn’t without its benefits. For instance, after breastfeeding the baby at night, she was there to burp Gavin, change his diaper and put him back to sleep while I got some much needed rest. Breastfed babies feed every two to three hours after birth, so poor Mummy would probably not get any rest at all if she had to do all these things on her own. Since Mummy is still recovering from the delivery, rest is a good thing to have.

In the months leading up to my delivery, we were looking high and low for a pui-yuet to look after Gavin and me. I heard a lot of horror stories about pui-yuets who didn’t respect the mothers right to breastfeed, who demanded obscene amounts of money, who ate the nourishing confinement foods that were supposed to given to the mother, and the list goes on. None of these stories did anything to allay my gripes about having a pui-yuet in my house.

When my MIL finally found a pui-yuet for me, they spoke at length to ensure that this pui-yuet would not give us any of the nonsense we had heard about. We also wanted to make sure that she was clear on her responsibilities. Since the pui-yuet came highly recommended by a relative, we were a little more relaxed.

Due to my confinement overlapping Chinese New Year, I only had my pui-yuet for three weeks. Actually, it was probably more like two weeks because I spent much of the first week in the hospital with Gavin who was jaundiced. Aside from a few misunderstandings, things with my pui-yuet went quite well - well enough for me to recommend her to a friend of mine who was delivering her baby in Australia and looking for hired help.

After the things my friend told me that she did, I feel terrible that I recommended her. For instance, she demanded her own TV from my friend so she could watch her Chinese soaps. Then when they were shopping, the pui-yuet would ask my friend and her mother to buy her some t-shirts she wanted to buy and when it came to the payment of those t-shirts, she told my friend to take the money from the “red packet”.

Let me clarify this point for those who are not in the know. Aside from the payment for the pui-yuet’s services, some expect a red packet. The red packet is a token amount of the MIL’s choice that is given to the pui-yuet at the end of the month. As far as I understand, the symbolism of the red pack is to balance the “good will” - something akin to “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours”. When the pui-yuet comes to help the new family, it is considered that she is doing a favour to the family (even though she gets paid for it). In the Chinese culture, a favour that is given (whether in the form of a gift or an action) must always be returned.

According to my MIL, it is only in more recent times that a red packet is given. Historically, what the pui-yuet is given is an outfit for her to wear. The substitution of the outfit with the red packet is one of convenience. It is also worth noting that since we had our pui-yuet during Chinese New Year, she is also supposed to be given a red packet because the occasion demands it. Yup, Chinese New Year is a very expensive time of year to hire a pui-yuet. Not only do you have to give her two red packets but you also have to pay her double because it’s like working through Christmas.

Much of the problems with pui-yuets lie with the fact that a lot of these arrangements are made by word of mouth. Often there are no written credentials for you to check her out capabilities and you don’t get to test her until the day your baby is born. There are also no written agreements for the work she is required to do. Since there are a lot of unspoken rules with pui-yuets that one wouldn’t know unless you were familiar with the culture, it often gives rise to misunderstandings during the month.

Here are some of those unspoken rules and expectations:

1. A pui-yuet is only responsible for the mother and baby. Any work outside of those responsibilities are not part of her duty. That means, she isn’t required to do any housework except wash the clothes that belong to the mother and baby, and the dishes that were used by the mother and baby. That also means she doesn’t have to cook for the father, wash his clothes or anything else that belongs to the father. Some pui yuets will do housework if you are willing to pay them extra.

2. A pui-yuet’s responsibilities does not include her own meals. Some pui yuets will overlook this point but the more picky ones will expect their meals to be provided for them. Some picky ones will also expect more money if they are required to cook for themselves.

3. A pui-yuet is employed for 28 days. It commences on the day the baby is born and ends on the day of the baby’s full moon. Even if mother and baby are still at the hospital and cannot be discharged, the one month count-down has begun and the pui-yuet’s time is ticking.

4. As mentioned earlier, a pui-yuet that is hired for a month that includes Chinese New Year has to be paid double. An additional red packet is also given for Chinese New Year.

5. At the end of the month, a red packet is given to the pui-yuet as a token of appreciation for her efforts (this is additional to the amount agreed upon for her services for the month). There is no stipulated amount - it works a little like a tip. The happier you are with her services the more you can put inside the red packet - usually $100 - $200. Unlike a tip, you still have to give her something even if you think her services are poor, you just give her less. I think a red packet containing $1 shouts volumes about what you thought of her services.

6. According to the traditional hierarchy, the pui-yuet is only answerable to the MIL. This goes even if the person paying for the pui-yuet happens to be the father or the mother. Even though I was aware of this, I was still surprised to hear from my friend that the pui-yuet was more accommodating when her MIL gave the instructions but completely ignored her own mother. It was quite amusing to note as well that when my MIL was standing watch over my pui-yuet as she changed Gavin’s diaper, her normally calm and experienced manner with which she handled him was suddenly all thumbs.

7. For whatever reason, if you discharge the pui-yuet early, she still has to be paid the full amount agreed upon unless it was a mutual agreement to part ways before the end of the month. For instance, in my case, we decided we didn’t need the pui-yuet after Chinese New Year and she herself wanted to take on another job that would overlap with mine if she were to finish the month with me. We agreed to pro-rate her pay and part ways.

There are also a few additional points that a new mother ought to be aware of when she looks for a pui-yuet which have nothing to do with tradition. From my understanding, most pui-yuets are not in favour of breast-feeding so it is best to be clear on your desire to breastfeed during your preliminary discussions. Please do not end up like a friend of mine who lamented to me that the result of her inability to breastfeed was due to her pui-yuet who sabotaged her efforts to breastfeed.

It is speculated that pui-yuets do not encourage breastfeeding because of the increased night duty involved. Breastfed babies are thought to require more night time responsibilities such as frequent stirrings for night feeds and diaper changes. Don’t quote me on this - it is just a theory.

Pui-yuets also have their own way of doing things so if you have a specific way you want your baby to be bathed or handled, it is best to get this cleared up front to avoid battles during the month when you will be in no condition to argue your point. It is unfortunate but pui-yuets tend to bully the new mother if there are any disagreements on how the baby should be handled. This is a time when a stern talk from the MIL will come in handy.

The best way to avoid an unpleasantness is to discuss everything and outline your expectations before agreeing to sign on the pui-yuet. Hash out any potential problems you can anticipate before the actual month takes place. If your mother or MIL is engaging the pui-yuet on your behalf, make sure you meet her before hand because you are the one who has to live with her. One month is a long time to be with someone you don’t get along with.

About a week back, the hubby and I were looking for a wedding present for my brother and his wife. We thought a nice dinner cutlery set would be a very practical and useful gift. Unfortunately, dinner cutlery sets come with a set of butter knives and that would probably go down poorly with the bride and her family who are traditional to the core.

Tips for the uninitiated:

If you are shopping for a wedding present for a Chinese couple - especially a traditional one, or one with traditional parents - anything with knives are out of the question. There is an age old belief that the knife bodes ill for the couple because it represents the severing of the relationship. Whether it infers a future divorce or just a difficult relationship, I am not certain. Whatever the case, just stay away from the knives.

Here’s another couple that had to adhere to the superstitions about “no renovations and no moving house” during pregnancy. Pantang is the word used to describe people who hold on to these beliefs as rules they have to follow in life otherwise something bad will happen. Here’s one context in which you would use it:

“They’re pantang about such things.”

I used to laugh and scoff about such things but in the interest of keeping the peace, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut. I still remember the first time I related a story about a colleague who also didn’t believe in such superstitions…

When my colleague’s wife was pregnant, he told me he quietly hammered some nails in his new house so he could hang up some pictures. We had a good laugh about it and I related the story to the hubby thinking that he would appreciate the humour. The last thing I expected was to be slapped back with a statement like, “That’s seriously f***ed!”

My first thoughts were that he felt the superstitions were “seriously f***ed”. When I clarified, I later realised that what he meant was that he thought my colleague was “seriously f***ed” for going against the beliefs. I was too stunned for words but I learned quite quickly after that day how seriously some people took their pantang beliefs.

In the early days when I first brought my baby home, he was still suffering a bit of jaundice. The advice was to sun him in the morning before 10am for about 10 to 15 minutes.

Over Chinese New Year, the hubby and I went to back to my in laws’ residence and one morning when baby and I came downstairs, the only spot of sun I could see was next to the altar they kept in the house. Being ignorant as I was, I happily went about laying the baby in that little spot of sunlight before the altar.

When my MIL came out her room, she went ballistic. Apparently what I had done was offer up my baby to my husband’s dead ancestors.

Note to self: never put anything next to the altar. In fact, I should never ever go near the altar. Period.

From the Baby Blog:

A few days before, the hubby and I bought a chest of drawers to store Gavin’s belongings from IKEA. Then yesterday, Gavin’s Cot and Mattress. I would post some pictures, but all you will see are boxes. My in laws got wind that we were receiving the goods and warned us not to install the cot or set up the drawers until after Gavin is born.

The reason behind this is because of the superstition that the assembling of furniture in the house is bad for the unborn baby and may cause damage to the baby in the womb. I guess this is akin to the belief that one shouldn’t paint or hammer nails into the wall when there is a pregnant woman in the house. Frankly, I don’t buy any of these superstitions, but it appears to be three against one so I guess as long as the cot and drawers are ready for use when I get home from the hospital, that’ll be good enough for me.

My MIL has been saying, “If you can follow these beliefs without too much inconvenience, then just do it - that’s what I think.”

Well, the inconvenience is not to me, but to the hubby who will now have to install the cot himself instead of the delivery guy who was going to do it for us. Since the hubby seems quite content to assemble the cot himself, who am I to argue? There’s no skin off my nose either way…

Last Saturday, I attended M & S’s wedding while I was 8 months pregnant. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know it was a bad thing to do. According to the Chinese beliefs, a pregnant woman isn’t allowed to attend weddings. The reason behind this is because both weddings and pregnancy are such good news, the pregnant woman could take away some of the “goodness” of the wedding just by being present - or something along those lines.

Well, M and S are hardly the superstitious type and neither am I. During my wedding, my matron of honour was pregnant when she assisted me at my wedding and surely that’s got to be worse than having a pregnant woman present as a guest. I vaguely recall getting the hint that all was not great with the fact that I’d chosen a pregnant woman but the tones were quite subtle so I chose to ignore it. CS is one of my closest friends in this region and there was no way I was going to have my wedding without her.

Sometime in May this year was a deity’s birthday. I’m thinking its probably the goddess of mercy since that is the goddess that my MIL worships. I’d tell you more but I don’t think even the hubby knew whose birthday we were celebrating. We held a birthday celebration at the factory with the usual theme of food offerings, burning of shiny paper, and lighting of firecrackers.

I’ve always thought of firecrackers as a means to scare away evil spirits - at least that’s what it means during Chinese New Year. During this case, I’m wondering if it’s meant to be something akin to a fanfare because I’m not sure why a goddess would need to scare away evil spirits on her birthday.

The pictures are probably starting to look fairly repetitive because it’s usually based around the same themes. All I can say is that it’s a lot of work preparing for each of these events. My MIL will be in the kitchen for at least two whole days before the day cooking up a storm. As the daughter in law, I’m supposed to help out but mostly I end up observing because I haven’t a clue how to make any of this stuff. Occasionally, if I’m deemed worthy, I might get to roll out the dough…

Although it’s never been officially requested, I sort of get the impression I’m supposed to carry on this tradition after my MIL is no longer able to perform them. I presume that’s why I’m required to observe these rituals even though I don’t take any part of it. I’ve also caught a couple of subtle hints from my MIL during her cooking storms when she’s said, “Of course you can buy the food, but I prefer to make them because I enjoy the cooking.”

I suppose you could say that this statement is open to interpretation because she might mean that some people buy the food instead of spending the time in the kitchen preparing it. Alternatively, it could mean that in future, I could choose to buy the food instead of preparing it myself. Whatever the case, I’m not sure I’m at all comfortable about the idea of having to take on the responsibilities of conducting rituals of a religion I don’t believe in. I feel at times I’ve already overstepped my boundaries by being a party to them.