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On the road again

Savvy promotion and merchandising that appeal to young people have helped the Matsu pilgrimage grow significantly

By Ian Bartholomew
STAFF REPORTER
Thursday, Apr 10, 2008, Page 13

Worshippers pray to Matsu in the goddess' temple in Tachia township in Taichung County last month. PHOTO: TSAI CHIH-MING, TAIPEI TIMES

Mrs Wang relaxes into the seat of the packed southbound train out of Taipei Railway Station. Like many on the train, she is heading to Tachia (大甲), Taichung County, for the Tachia Matsu Pilgrimage. “I booked the ticket on the spur of the moment,” she says happily, “and I was lucky to get a seat. Such dispositions are made by Matsu. I knew I should go on the pilgrimage this year, and everything fell into place.”

A petite figure in her 50s, Wang is dressed for a hike, an embroidered prayer flag sticking out from her daypack. As soon as she gets off at Tachia, she will embark on an eight-day walk over 330km through Changhua County and Yunlin County before arriving in Hsinkang (新港), Chiayi County. Then it’s back again to Tachia. She will be joined by as many as 600,000 people, according to estimates made by the Apple Daily.

The annual pilgrimage started on Saturday and is one of Taiwan’s biggest religious events. In the last couple of years it has grown significantly through promotion and merchandising that appeal to young people. According to Huang Chih-chung (黃智琮), head of The Youth Organization of Da Jia Jenn Lann Temple (大甲鎮瀾宮e世代青年會), most of his group’s members joined the pilgrimage for the excitement and to be part of a major festival. Cheng Ming-kun (鄭銘坤), the temple’s deputy director, credited the merchandising, cell phone charms to NT$299,800 commemorative watches for helping popularize the act of devotion.

Pilgrims stream into Jenn Lann Temple prior to Matsu’s official departure on an eight-day tour of nearby temples.  PHOTO: IAN BARTHOLOMEW, TAIPEI TIMES

The train reaches Tachia at 6:30pm, five hours before the statue of Matsu from Jenn Lann Temple is to depart; the streets are already awash with a sea of people. Many have come for the temple fair, to eat from the innumerable roadside stalls, shoot balloons with air guns, and enjoy the performances and fireworks.

Pilgrims wave prayer flags in front of a burning brazier at Jenn Lann Temple on Saturday night. PHOTO: IAN BARTHOLOMEW, TAIPEI TIMES

Serious pilgrims like Wang have no time for this. As soon as the train arrives, she will head south along the No. 1 National Highway toward Changhua.

“We don’t have time to hang around,” says Wang, a veteran of five pilgrimages, as she prepares to get some rest before the train arrives. “We have got to get ahead of the main procession; otherwise you simply get left behind. The main procession keeps moving day and night.”

A Matsu worshiper carries a flag bearing the name of the Tachia Matsu temple. PHOTO: CHEN TSAN-KUN, TAIPEI TIMES

“Sometimes we wait until Matsu arrives (at the temple where we rest), but at other times, we have to leave early to keep ahead,” she adds.

She and her friends have chartered a bus to carry bulkier belongings such as bedding and pick up stragglers, but she aims to walk the whole distance. “It can be really tough for people doing it for the first time,” she says. “But everyone helps each other out along the way.”

Matsu worshippers get their ceremonial flags stamped after the procession arrives at a temple. PHOTO: CHEN TSAN-KUN, TAIPEI TIMES

The serious pilgrims are easy to spot: wide-brimmed hats, fanny packs, hiking pants with bulging pockets, often a walking stick, and always the heavily embroidered prayer flag that is carried from temple to temple and waved reverently over the smoky braziers before the main alter to garner the deity’s blessings.

The procession carrying the statue of Matsu, crosses a bridge in Hsinkang township, Chiayi County on Tuesday. PHOTO: YANG KUO-TANG, TAIPEI TIMES

“We plan to walk through the night,” says one pilgrim who is resting outside a convenience store. “You don’t want to be walking when the sun is high. It’ll kill you.”

Not everyone, however, will walk. There are groups on bicycles and scooters. Others follow in tour coaches.

As the pilgrims stream out of town, the main procession begins to form along Tachia’s main drag. It is a massive logistical exercise. Elements of the procession wend their way through packed side streets to take their places in the main line. More than 600 police are backed by hoards of volunteer marshals who direct traffic and, new this year, man recycling stations along the road.

Note The Tachia Matsu Pilgrimage is currently in its fifth day heading northward from Fuhsing Temple (福興宮), Hsiluo Township (西螺鎮) en route to Chengan Temple (奠安宮), Peitou Township (北斗鎮). It reaches Tachia on Sunday

Performers — most of whom seem to believe Matsu likes loud techno and pole dancing — entertain the crowds during the long wait before the scheduled 11:10pm departure. Massive truck-mounted speakers blast electronic beats as nubile young things gyrate seductively, lion dancers chat up girls, and teams of sweaty performers dressed as minor deities chain-smoke and chatter. “It’s bloody hard work,” says one as he lifts a papier-mache lion’s head, brocade and sequins from his shoulders. “It’s bloody heavy, and bloody hot.” He lights a cigarette and takes a drag, falling into a contemplative daze. The procession has not even begun and he has a long night ahead.

The big moment approaches. Crowds around the temple compact into an impenetrable mass. Great horns blast a long, solemn note announcing that Matsu, Queen of Heaven, is about to set off. The fireworks shooting over the temple, which had been growing in intensity and splendor throughout the night, suddenly stop. The intersection outside the temple gate has been arrayed with thousands of firecrackers. Men with blowtorches light the fuses. Everyone pulls back. Then a deafening blast and a burst of smaller explosions as the firecrackers disintegrate into a billowing cloud of smoke and shredded paper. Horns sound again and the crowds bow like a wave. Matsu’s palanquin inches forward through the smoke. At the next intersection, the process is repeated. Then a third time. It is midnight and Matsu is on the road.

By now, Wang should be four hours ahead on the road to Changhua, part of a string of thousands of pilgrims stretching for kilometers. “It doesn’t matter that I’m not walking with the main palanquin,” she had said during our conversation on the train. “Some people think it’s not right, but I don’t think it matters. After all, Matsu looks down from heaven and in one glance takes in this whole little island of Taiwan. It doesn’t matter where I am.”
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