On the seventh month of the lunar calendar, they say the gates of Hell fly open, freeing the souls of the departed to wander the Earth for the next thirty days. To nourish these starving spirits, the Chinese set out whole suckling pigs, braised ducks, mandarin oranges, and other delicacies. They burn offerings of joss sticks, fat wads of hell money and papier-mâché renderings of TVs, cars and jewelry, filling the air with sickly sweet smoke. They construct large outdoor stages for traditional Chinese puppet shows and operas, as well as contemporary song and dance performances—the latter presumably to appeal to the more recently departed souls. At each getai performance, the front row of seats is reserved for these guests-of-honor and must remain empty. As a child, I observed these preparations from the passenger side of my mother’s Mercedes as we drove past the government-subsidized housing estates. Occasionally, Ma would stop at the Lorong Mambong wet market, located in one of the larger estates, affording me a chance to get closer to the festivities.
