... notable events : Chinese New Year at Grandma's

Chinese New Year 1995 started with a bang. 20 seconds before the stroke of midnight on the night before New Year, the countdown began on television which was showing some local variety show featuring local performers singing various chinese new year songs and dances to help usher in the new year.



Rushing out the tv room of my grandmother's place out into the garden, with my father counting down the seconds out loud and my mother happily following right behind me, we all poured out into the garden to greet the new year. Hours before, even before the reunion dinner empty dishes had been cleared, the firecrackers and fireworks had already been setup, ready to be fired. Fireworks are banned in Malaysia except during Chinese New Year and most of us made full use of that opportunity. But even with the ban lifted for the festivities, there were still some fireworks which were not allowed and deemed too dangerous to use. The long traditional string of firecrackers apparently invariably took off little fingers every Chinese New Year and were the most dangerous of the lot and hence the ones which were banned. Another reason for the ban was that Malaysia, having a history of fighting insurgents and communist bandits in the rural mountaineous areas, very prudently maintained a ban on these fireworks because of its sound when lit which mimicked the sounds of gunfire. But we had those too. Obtaining them was easy enough from the local vendors who keep them under the counters. We had the long traditional string of firecrackers suspended on a
string from a long bamboo pole, a row of rockets artfully arranged to
be lit in sequence when the time came, and a bag full of spinning
fireworks for throwing onto the ground when lit. We were ready.



Out in the garden, the whole neighbourhood was strangely silent. On occasion, the stray but prematurely early single firework could be heard streaking into the sky to the loud boisterous laughter of the neighbours mixed with the excited barking of family dogs who were eagerly mixed in the festive mood.



"6... 5... 4..." my father droned on. I readied the matchstick. The expressions of eager anticipation on the faces of my gathered relatives.



"3.. 2..." I struck the first match.



"1!" we all chorused loudly and the fuse was lit.



*Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* it went. My mother, seized in the heady excitement of the moment happily skipped off the porch shouting greetings out loud. "Gong Xi Fa Cai!" "Xin Nian Kuai Le!", only to turn back frightened by the unexpected loudness of the sequential explosions of the firecrackers. Only my father's steady gaze and warm smile halted her retreat. Sheepishly she smiled to our merry amusement and jovial laughter.



*Whoosh* *Whoosh* *Whoosh* went the rockets, bursting high up in the sky above the street. The bright white scatter of burnt magnesium sparks brought whoops of joy and a scattering of clapping from the audience.



What we had started was like the first salvo in a war of noise. The whole neighbourhood had by now lighted their firecrackers and various fireworks were flying about, spinning, bursting and hopping about. It was a riot of sound and bright coloured flashes as the sky filled with flowers and rays of coloured lights. The pleasure on the face of my 87 year old grandmother was priceless!



For the next hour the firecrackers and fireworks went on and on, long after we had already exhausted our meager supply of noise-makers. This year I thought happily, the Nien monster would stay well away from us, frightened away by the shear volume released.