It is still morning, but already the house is full of guests. Soon, a young man arrives with his parents and several other senior family members. Not long afterward, the guest of honor—actually the hostess of honor—enters the living room. She is resplendently dressed in a pink-flowered ball gown, her hair and make-up sculptured to perfection, and her face beaming with a mixture of happiness and excitement. Her every move;ment is followed by an attentive video cameraman.
As the elegantly dressed young lady politely serves tea to the guests, the cups are returned to her tray with a bright red envelope slipped inside each one. She then moves to a high stool near the family altar, where her mother and another woman dress her in pairs of expensive rings, bracelets, and necklaces. They momentarily place a transparent red scarf over her bejeweled hands. She then stands and adorns her mother's hair with flowers, and the young man now moves into the picture and likewise honors his own mother. The couple next turn to each other, exchange rings, then bow to the family altar and to their parents. The video camera stops whirring. Daniel Lin and Amy Lin are now formally engaged, and in Chinese society, they are as good as married.
This couple's detailed betrothal ceremony is typical of many such events in Taiwan. Despite the complicated ritual activities, the ceremony actually is an updated, simplified version of even more elaborate traditions that Chinese families have practiced for centuries.
Today, there is a sometimes curious mixture of age-old and modern conventions. Some contemporary couples, of course, stray further from the basic traditions than others. Newspapers now give accounts of weddings linked with activities close to the hearts of the new couple, such as mountain climbing, go-carting, and river rafting. While these are still exceptions rather than the norm, traditional forms of betrothal are frequently adapted to Taiwan's urbanized and modernized lifestyles—especially in fast-paced Taipei—resulting in simpler ceremonies, often with a slight Western flavor.
But most families still cling to some semblance of the ancient rituals. "I like the traditions—I'm a traditional man," says 31-year-old Daniel Lin with a touch of pride in his voice. Many families agree with his attitude, for it is still common for families to eschew simplicity and embrace the elaborate complexities of tradition. Oftentimes this is an understandable matter of pride among Chinese families.
Miss Kang Chen-chen and Mr. Chiu Hsien-chin, another recently engaged couple, reveal that the ever-present concern in Chinese society for "face," or rather "saving face," is perhaps more active than ever at nuptial time. "It's important to look good so people won't talk about you, and so your relatives won't look down on you," Miss Kang admits in explaining their desire for a traditional engagement. "If you don't do it the traditional way, then you don't have anything to show."
Looking good is important, naturally, to any young bride and groom, and Chinese engagements and weddings are certainly a feast for the eyes—as well as the other senses. But these traditions are still esteemed for far more substantial reasons. To a great extent they reflect attitudes toward marriage and life in general.
Chinese have traditionally emphasized the ritual of marriage, largely because of the great importance of having descendants to carryon the family line. This desire can be a frequent—and for some singles a too-frequent—subject of conversation. Although today's youth, especially those with higher education, arc putting off marriage until their early 30s, by their mid-20s they begin to encounter numerous hints, outright inquiries, and sometimes matchmaking offers. One bachelor in his late 30s complains: "When I'm in the U.S., the subject never comes up, but as soon as I return home, the first question I'm asked is, 'Are you married yet'?'"
Despite the growing influence among the young of the more lax and individual-minded Western attitudes toward marriage, the traditional Chinese perspective remains largely intact. The trouble, expense, and social display that arc virtually standard for engagements and weddings in Taiwan reveal that marriage is still far more than a personal affair symbolizing the union of a man and a woman.
"Marriage in traditional China is a two-family, two-lineage business, not a two-individual business," explains Alexander Yin, a professor of cultural anthropology who specializes in Chinese society at National Taiwan University.
Even today, Yin says, a few wealthy families stick strictly to this altitude, considering marriage a way to make important business alliances. For most couples, however, marrying for love rather than alliance is the accepted norm. Nevertheless, modern Chinese cannot underestimate the role of the family in the institution of marriage, and weddings at least symbolically still emphasize that fact. As one young woman recalls her elder brother saying before her wedding, "You marry not only a man, but a whole family."
Daniel and Amy both come from large, well-to-do families with long lines of known ancestors. Daniel's eldest brother, Orson Lin, says their family traces its lineage back to a Ching dynasty official. Being responsible for breaking such an esteemed line, or the traditions that the family has upheld for so many generations, is not something that could be done lightly.
But Daniel and Amy did ignore what was once a major taboo—marrying a person with the same last name. Orson Lin says that when he was married 13 years ago, he could not have even considered such a marriage.
Like most young couples today, Daniel and Amy made a personal choice, and their parents did not object. Still, they went through the traditional motions of presenting the marriage as a transaction between two families. Even though both families knew of the couple's plans, Daniel presented a formal request of marriage through a professional matchmaker to Amy's family. Accompanied by his parents, he traveled from Taipei in northern Taiwan to Tainan in the south, where Amy's parents live. The matchmaker, also from Tainan, went with them to her home as a go-between in the arrangements.
Some couples ask matchmakers for assistance largely because of their expertise in the engagement and wedding traditions, which can vary significantly in detail from one city or even village to another. More frequently a senior relative or respected family friend plays the go-between role. In the case of Miss Kang and Mr. Chiu, his uncle served in the matchmaker's role. Whoever fills the function should be someone whose own good fortune in life will bless the couple with luck.
Professor Yin says the go-between is also important for more practical reasons. Since marriage often involves a series of economic transfers between the two families, as well as agreements as to what traditions will be followed, a third party can help smooth over any conflicts in the "negotiations." Yin says the go-between is like a lubricant. "It's a smart technique. "
The negotiations focus largely on the exchanges that will be made, and these often involve expense as well as the concept of "face." The two sides must agree on the amount of the pin chin—how much money the young man's family will offer the girl's family at the time of engagement—or if there will even be a pin chin. Moreover, the families need to reach agreement on what items the bride's family will include in her dowry, the number of gifts that will be exchanged at betrothal time—it must be a multiple of six, which is lucky in Chinese numerology—and the number of engagement cakes that will be provided to the girl's family for sending out to announce the engagement.
While these negotiations might have caused great concern a generation ago for economic as well as "face" reasons, they are generally amiable affairs today. Many families now take pride in putting less emphasis on the material aspects of marriage. "Saving face" has taken on a new meaning.
Nevertheless, there still are occasional reports of marriages called off because negotiations have broken down between the two families. "Sometimes people forget why they are negotiating," Yin laments. But he adds that the biggest problems in the pre-engagement phase usually arise from disagreements over the details of the ceremonies.
In the past, husband and wife generally came from neighboring areas, so their families were familiar with each other's traditions. But today, especially in a large city like Taipei, families originate from all over the island, as well as from numerous areas in mainland China. Religious differences have also become more of a problem in recent times.
Daniel and Amy solved the problem in a common way. His family lives in Taipei and hers is in the southern city of Tainan, a place known for particularly detailed marriage customs. Their engagement took place at her family's home—a common Chinese tradition—and thus was done according to their customs. But the wedding took place in Taipei, and followed the customs of Daniel's family.
Besides agreeing on which customs to follow, the families must also choose the dates for the engagement and wedding. This is considered far too important a decision to be left to amateurs. The gods must decide. Like most couples, Daniel and Amy followed the traditional practice for choosing auspicious dates. They wrote down their birthdates and those of their parents according to the lunar calendar—in Chinese these are known as the "Eight Characters," two representing the year of birth, two the month, two the day, and two the hour—and proceeded to the temple. There a man specializing in choosing auspicious dates picked one that was lucky for all those involved.
Although many Chinese still take great pains to choose a "good day," there are those who joke that the Chinese almanac used to determine these days has changed for the sake of modern convenience. Suspiciously, they say, too many weddings now fall on Sundays or holidays.
In addition to being used to choose a good day, the Eight Characters, it is traditionally believed, can also indicate if the couple is a good match. Although few potential marriage unions are rejected nowadays because of mismatched birth dates, many families still go through the motions of testing the Eight Characters. The man's family places the characters of the girl on their family ancestral altar, and the girl's family does the same with the young man's characters. They are left there for three days.
"If nothing bad happens, then that's O.K.," Yin explains. "But if something lucky happens—if they win the lottery or something-that's even better. It means their fortune fits in with the family."
Finally, after the agreements are made, dates chosen, and fortunes matched, the families proceed to the engagement. The rituals involved in a modern Chinese betrothal ceremony are nearly as elaborate as those at the actual wedding. And they are often more traditional, with less Western influence. Many young people must rely on others to explain all the details involved, and even then they are often unsure of just what each action signifies. "My parents just prepared everything and told us everything to do," Daniel says.
May Hsu, who was married several years ago, says that like many young people she was somewhat put off by how troublesome it all seemed as her parents planned her engagement. Yet her mother was upset that it was going to be so much simpler than hers had been. Her father explained to her why the trouble was important, and today she agrees with him. His reasoning was based on the traditional Chinese attitude that once a woman marries she is no longer part of her family.
"We're doing this all for you," May recalls her father saying. "You know 'marrying off a daughter is like throwing out water.' This is your last party in your family."
Red envelopes of money at the engagement tea provide her first source of private funds.
Beyond being complicated, a Chinese engagement can be a rather expensive undertaking. Some families may spend well over US$3,000—a healthy amount locally—for the gifts that are exchanged and the banquet that is often given for friends and relatives afterward.
In Daniel and Amy's case, the gifts were mostly clothes and other useful personal items. An expected part of the gifts to the bride will be expensive jewelry, often of pure gold, and for obvious symbolic reasons these are usually presented in pairs.
Other couples, such as Miss Kang and Mr. Chiu, also exchanged traditional items. For example, her family received incense and firecrackers for use on the wedding day, a bag of rice to bless the couple with an always-full pantry, and a large piece of raw pork (at one time it was customary to give a whole pig) for the bride's family to cook after the ceremony. Miss Kang's family presented her fiancé with the traditional suit of clothes, complete from head to toe, including wallet, belt, shoes, and even money in all the pockets.
Gifts symbolizing fertility are evidence that Chinese parents still expect their newlywed children to begin producing descendants as soon as possible. Amy's family gave Daniel a large bunch of bananas; because these grow in large bunches, they are a symbol for having many children.
The gifts might also include the pin chin, which traditionally was given for the bride's family to use in buying items for her dowry. Mr. Chiu displayed Miss Kang's pin chin in three neat stacks of crisp 500-dollar Taiwan bills in a red box. Today, however, many parents of young brides-to-be request no pin chin. "Our daughter is not for sale," is the typical explanation. In return, they say, the bride will bring a modest dowry into the marriage.
It is still common, however, for the young man's family to insist on giving the money as a matter of pride. In this case, the woman's family accepts the money and then graciously returns it. Occasionally, this double face-saving exchange prompts the family to give an outrageously large pin chin, by some accounts NT$1 million, knowing that it will be returned-and then perhaps returned to where it was borrowed from in turn.
The bride's serving of tea at her engagement is the traditional formal way for the young man to introduce his bride-to-be to his senior family members. Each finishes a cup of tea, a way of blessing the couple with many sons, and returns the cup with a red envelope containing a cash gift. This is a sign that they accept her into their family. From that point on, she addresses her fiancé's parents and relatives in the same way he does.
This ceremony was also the way a daughter-in-law traditionally established some economic independence in her new family. Not long ago, when a wife had little to say in the financial matters of her husband's household, her tea money might be the beginning of her own private fund. And this was a fund that her husband dare not inquire about.
Engagement rituals must all be finished before noon, also a matter of tradition, and when the families part after the luncheon that follows, they avoid saying "See you again," the usual words used in Chinese for "Good-bye." The phrase in this instance would mean that the encounter had been unsuccessful and the whole ceremony would have to be done over again.
Even though Daniel and Amy are not to be married for another month, their friends and family consider there is no turning back. It is rare and virtually unacceptable for a Chinese couple to break an engagement. Professor Yin says this is not just because it would be an embarrassment after going to such great expense and trouble, "It's like breaking a natural law."
The time between engagement and wedding is both too short and too long. There are wedding photos to be taken, dresses to be chosen for the wedding banquet, invitations to be sent out, restaurant reservations to be made, and honeymoon plans to think about. But suddenly the important day arrives.
Everyone at Daniel's home is busy on this auspicious Sunday morning. Some are arranging flowers—there will be about 50 elaborate bouquets at tonight's banquet—while others are preparing lunch for the many visiting relatives. Soon, the groom's wedding party is dressed and waiting for the appointed time to proceed to the bride's home. It is the customary symbolic gesture for the groom to pick up the bride at her home and then take her back to his own. This process, and the many detailed traditions involved with it, represents more than anything else the actual wedding ceremony.
Except for the few Chinese who have church weddings, there is no personal exchange of vows. Nor is there really anyone moment at which the couple become formally bound. In most people's minds, however, it is probably at the time the bride leaves her home in the company of the groom that most clearly signifies that a transition has taken place in her life. And it is this moment that is traditionally the most emotional. In past generations, the bride was required to cry as she departed—with her mother giving her a hard pinch if necessary to start the tears flowing.
Today, before he leaves for Amy's home, Daniel worships at the family altar, offering incense to his ancestors. As he begins, the cameras also start roiling, for like many contemporary couples, Daniel and Amy are having every detail of their nuptials videotaped. A still photographer is also accompanying them from beginning to end.
Daniel and several of his relatives proceed downstairs and out the front door with the cameramen close behind. His parents stay behind to greet their new daughter-in-law upon arrival. As Daniel leaves, strings of large firecrackers announce the moment. A caravan of six cars—again six being a lucky number—begins its journey toward the bride's home. Along the way the video man jumps out at a stoplight or pops through a sunroof to find a better camera angle.
Although Amy's family lives in Tainan, they also have an apartment in Taipei, where Daniel will pick up his bride. Other families from out-of-town in similar circumstances might rent a hotel suite to represent their home, although occasionally a groom sticks strictly to tradition by making a long trip to wherever the bride lives.
Upon arrival, Daniel's car is greeted by more firecrackers and a small boy holding a tray with two oranges, representing marital joy. Daniel must give the child a red envelope of money before he can proceed.
The apartment is crowded with excited people, but Amy is silting quietly in a side room waiting in her long white gown and gloves. Daniel enters and soon she confidently follows him out of the room. One woman comments that Amy is lucky she is not required to act overly modest or coy as was expected of brides in her day.
Along with Amy's parents, the couple bows and offers incense to her family's altar. Bowls of sweet rice ball soup are then served to the couple. Soon thereafter, one of the cameramen gives instructions to eat slower. A new twist on tradition.
Soon it is time to depart. Amy's parents will not leave with them, for traditionally they are no longer responsible for their daughter. In the past, the bride's parents did not even attend the evening's wedding banquet, and when the bride left her home, they would symbolically slam the door behind her. A brother then might throw water at her sedan chair as she was carried away. Like water that has been thrown out, daughters of an earlier era could never return to their home, except as a guest.
When Amy walks in the door to her new home, it is a critical moment. Everything else this morning has been planned around this pre-determined time, which is selected at the same time when the auspicious days for engagement and marriage are chosen according to the Eight Characters. Tradition also demands that Amy not step on the threshold as she crosses it, as this would be an affront to her new mother-in-law.
Once the couple has arrived, they first worship at the family altar with Daniel's parents. Amy is thus introduced to the family's ancestors. They then proceed to what will be their room in the house, for the new couple will begin their married life living with Daniel's parents. This is also a rather common arrangement in Taiwan.
Once in their room, the couple sits on stools facing the foot of the bed, each on one leg of a pair of trousers, which symbolize that they will now always be part of a pair. They are next served sweet tea, and Amy presents a red envelope with cash to the servers. Finally it is time for the bride to be left alone in her new room to rest, and wait for tonight's banquet.
The wedding banquet, which now usually takes place at a large restaurant or hotel, is the main social event for nearly every newlywed couple. The important role it plays reflects the strong family and social orientation of Chinese weddings. The banquet traditionally was a means for the groom's parents to announce that they had brought a new daughter-in-law into their home, and that their family line was soon to be extended.
Because Daniel and Amy come from large, prosperous families, their banquet will be unusually large and extravagant—about 1,200 people. A more typical couple might have about 300 people attending the event.
As the guests arrive at the cavernous banquet hall of Taipei's luxurious Grand Hotel, they sign in and present their cash gifts, again in red envelopes. The money, given instead of wedding gifts, goes largely to pay for the banquet.
When most of the tables are full, the bride and groom arrive. Daniel enters first with the best man as the crowd applauds. Amy follows, in white gown and train, with her father at her side. The crowd applauds louder. A maid of honor and two small children end the procession. Pre-recorded firecrackers mark their entrance and as an orchestra plays "Here Comes the Bride" the procession walks solemnly down a red carpet in the midst of crowded, noisy banquet tables.
This walk down the aisle, as well as the addition of the best man, bridesmaid, and accompanying tune, are some of the Western touches that are becoming more common in local weddings. Although many couples still enter as a pair and make their way more casually to their table in the front, virtually all brides now make their first appearance in a Western-style white gown—although hidden underneath they may be sporting shoes in the traditional wedding color of bright red.
At the end of the aisle, Daniel and Amy arrive at a simple platform. Their video cameraman is still in attendance, his bright lights standing strategically throughout the hall. He focuses for a close-up as the couple faces the stage above them, where their parents and several other elders stand.
Before the meal begins, another "ceremony" is undertaken for the guests, consisting mainly of a ring exchange and speeches in honor of the couple. One young woman describes the contents of such speeches as "just good words, pi les of good words."
Most couples invite only one person, usually someone with high community standing, to speak on their behalf. But in Daniel and Amy's case they must stand through six speeches.
The couple then returns back up the aisle, facing happy relatives and friends who cover them with streamers popped from noisy party favors. After a brief interlude, they enter the banquet hall again. This time Amy is wearing a pink flowered evening dress and a different hair-do. The cameramen are in place and the crowd greets the couple with another round of applause.
Amy, like most Chinese brides, will change her wardrobe several times during the banquet, a custom left over from the times when a woman would make her own clothes for her wedding. Her numerous wedding-day outfits were a chance to show off her dressmaking and embroidery skills to her new mother-in-law. Today, mothers-in-law are somewhat less demanding, and most brides rent their banquet dresses.
Once the banquet with its traditional 12 courses has started, Daniel and Amy still find little chance to rest. Accompanied by their parents, they visit each of the 100 tables at the banquet and toast their guests as cameramen and light crew preserve every move. Many couples sip tea instead of wine, as tonight. Because there are so many tables, this is obviously a wise choice. The couple knew they would not have much time to eat so they ate a small meal just before entering the banquet hall.
The magnificent meal finally comes to a close and the guests begin to take their leave. Daniel and Amy, along with their parents, wait by the door to see everyone off. Amy has managed to change her dress, hair, and jewelry one final time. While most brides at this point appear in the traditional red chipao, a long, high-necked, slim-filling dress, Amy has opted for a pastel green, full-skirted gown. She holds a tray of cigarettes and candy as a final gift for the guests, while Daniel takes care of the hand-shaking.
This is a special chance to see each guest individually, even if for only a moment. It is also tiring after a long day of activity, and Daniel cannot help recalling his brother's joke earlier in the day that a wedding can be a lot of suffering: "After you shake so many hands, your own hand is really sore!"
It is now late, and finally the last of the guests are gone. Taipei has another happily married couple. But at the moment, the only people who look more tired than Daniel and Amy are the cameramen.
The "Red Bomb"
BY SARAH BROOKS
For centuries the personal presentation or mail delivery of a large, red envelope has signaled an imminent festive occurrence. Oftentimes the color is augmented by stylized double characters in gold leaf signifying "happiness" —a sure sign that inside is a wedding invitation.
But in Taiwan, the red envelope is also jokingly known as the "red bomb," and for good reason. "Once it hits you, you have to give money," explains Alexander Yin, a professor of cultural anthropology at National Taiwan University. The invitation sets long-established social conventions into motion.
Everyone invited to a Chinese wedding banquet is expected to match good wishes for the new couple's happiness with appropriate cash gifts. The money is traditionally given in special red envelopes slightly larger in size than the NT$1,000 note.
When the guests arrive at the restaurant's banquet hall on the auspicious date, at the entrance they encounter a long reception table manned by smiling relatives and close friends of the bridal couple. After signing their names in the wedding book, guests present their red envelopes to the designated person, who promptly opens them and records names and the amounts given in a special wedding-account book. There are no secret or anonymous donations. The family keeps the book as an important reference for use in determining how much to give in return at other family weddings.
An average person might give the couple NT$1,000, which is about US$31 at today's exchange rates. Superiors, such as a company boss, might present NT$2,000, while close, senior relatives may well give even more. These cash gifts are considered a highly practical way to express joy on the occasion as well as meet an immediate need. Each person more or less pays his own way for an evening of feasting and drinking, helping to defray what might otherwise be an outrageous expense for the families of the newly married couple. In some cases, however, the newlyweds do make a profit.
Professor Yin says that the wedding money tradition evolved during World War II in mainland China: At this time many young people were following the government in its retreat from Nanking to the central pan of the country in order to avoid the front-lines of the Japanese forces. Because the times were exceptionally rough and people were too poor to have extravagant weddings-and because many people were separated from their families-a couple would simply pass around their marriage announcement and friends would give them money to buy necessities for their new home.
After the war, the custom was retained. Later, when many of these student refugees again followed the government to Taiwan in 1949, the practice became popular here. And with the Chinese penchant for subtleties and for always repaying one's debts, it gradually took on today's more ritualistic form.
For some people, wedding money is used to confirm or cement friendships—on a personal or a business level—or occasionally even to end them. "If someone of importance sends less than expected," Yin says, "or if an ordinary person sends big money, families try to find out why. It's a kind of art. People can use it as a signal, like a subtle wink of the eye."
But money exchange in conjunction with weddings has become a sore point among the small but growing number of young people. They criticize the extravagance and less-than-intimate kinds of weddings insisted on by their parents. "Weddings are just too money-oriented," says one young bachelor. "Parents insist on their children having big wedding banquets simply to recoup the losses from all the red bombs they've been hit with in the past. What they've given out they want to get back!"
Despite this sentiment, it is a safe bet that many years will pass before there is much change in a venerable family tradition as rich in meaning as it is in red envelopes.