Enchanting Hui’an

Abstract

Walled City, Stonemasons and Hui’an Maidens Hui’an’s many claims to fame include the walled city of Chongwu (the best-preserved Ming Dynasty wall in China, and one of only a handful of walled cities left in the country), the uniquely costumed Hui’an maidens (Fujian’s most unusual people group), and miles of beautiful beaches that are, supposedly, unlike any other on earth! Locals said of Chongwu’s 13-km beach: “American scientists say the sand is unlike any other sand on earth. Each grain is six-sided, and therefore very healthful for the body!”.

...an out of the way village, in the county of Hui’an, or “Gracious Peace”. The situation of this village is a most picturesque and beautiful one. Just outside of it, Toa-bu, or the “Great Mother” rises abruptly from the plain, and towers up amidst the peaks and mountain-tops that range themselves around it... In front of it there flows a stream that comes out of the heart of the mountain, its waters pure and sparkling, and as yet undefiled by their touch with the outer world. It never dries up, for its fountains repose deep in the bosom of those everlasting hills; and no summer’s drought, nor fiery-faced sun can penetrate to where they lie. Its music, too, never dies out, for jutting rocks, and stones worn smooth, and curves and winding passages, and miniature falls make it sing an endless song.

—Reverend John Macgowan, 1889¹

Walled City, Stonemasons and Hui’an Maidens Hui’an’s many claims to fame include the walled city of Chongwu (the best-preserved Ming Dynasty wall in China, and one of only a handful of walled cities left in the country), the uniquely costumed Hui’an maidens (Fujian’s most unusual people group), and miles of beautiful beaches that are, supposedly, unlike any other on earth! Locals said of Chongwu’s 13-km beach: “American scientists say the sand is unlike any other sand on earth. Each grain is six-sided, and therefore very healthful for the body!”

Well, I’ve always thought this was another planet in the first place. But Hui’an’s biggest drawing card is not its extraterrestrial sand but its stone, which locals have been carving for 1,700 years.

Hui’an Stonemasons Over 100,000 of Hui’an’s 1,030,600 folks work with stone. When Beijing needed stonemasons to build the Great Hall of the People and Tiananmen Square in the 1950s, they shipped in workers from Hui’an, because with over 1,700 years of stonemasonry under their belt, they are China’s best.

Hui’an stone products—everything from furniture and tomb stones to carvings of deities, demons, Mickey Mouse, and American presidents—attract tourists and buyers from all over China and Southeast Asia. (Take a statue home in your carry-on!).

Shadow Carving Hui’an stonemasons may be the best but they aren’t resting on their laurels. They continue to develop new materials, products, and techniques, including innovative shadow carving that would have Fred Flintstone clamoring for a family portrait (Fig. 10.1).

Fig. 10.1

Hui’an Shadow Stone Carving

Shadow carvers reproduce virtually any painting or photograph by tracing it onto a polished slab of marble, tapping out the design, dot by painstaking dot, and coloring it in. The figures are so realistic they look ready to jump off the stone.

Give the artists a good, high-resolution family photo, and they’ll copy it for you, and mail it to your home. An 8 inch × 10 inch photo costs from 300 to 600 yuan, depending upon the level of artistry desired (with some, dots are visible, whereas others really do resemble photos).

General Lin Lu—Father of Fujian Lins We know that Hui’an folks have been stone masons for at least 1,700 years because the carved granite tomb of General Lin Lu, ancestor of all Fujian Lins, is over 1,700 years old. You can visit this “Holy Land of Lins” at Tuling Village, north of Hui’an about 20 min on the No. 324 Highway (by the No.144-km marker). There’s not really that much history about the place, since the tomb has been completely rebuilt with new granite sculptures and concrete. But it is something to think that all of Fujian’s Lins descended from this man, who in turn was the descendant of a man hiding out in the woods.

The Story of the Lins

By Miss Qu Weiwei

Bigan (比干) was a famous prime minister during the Shang Dynasty, and uncle of the stupid emperor Zhou (纣). An honest man, Bigan was forever pointing out his stupid nephew’s mistakes. Eventually the heartless king had had enough, and cut open Bigan’s heart (which did him little good because he was still heartless). The furious king wanted to kill Bigan’s pregnant wife, too, but she ran off and hid in a stone house in a forest, or “Lin” (林), where she gave birth to a son whom she named “Jian”, meaning hard, solid, strong (坚).

Some years later, another tribe toppled the Shang Dynasty and set up the Zhou Dynasty (周朝). The new king respected Bigan’s honesty, so he found his son Jian and gave him the surname of Lin because the forest had protected him from death.

So Bigan’s descendant was General Lin Lu, ancestor of all Fujian Lins, including the great hero Lin Zexu, the famed writer Lin Yutang, and the sea Goddess Mazu (whose real name was Lin Moliang).

Walled City of Chongwu This may be the best-preserved of China’s few remaining Ming Dynasty walled cities. This delightful town, with its uniquely clad Hui’an Maidens (considered Fujian’s most exotic people group) is just up the coast from Quanzhou and perched upon the horn-shaped Chongwu Peninsula. Originally an easily defended sentry post prized by famous heroes like Koxinga, the first Ming emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, changed the name from Dousai to Chongwu, which means “advocating of arms” (maybe the emperor was a Republican?). The walled city is well worth a visit—and fortunately you no longer must endure Abortion Road to get there (Fig. 10.2).

Fig. 10.2

Ancient Chongwu Wall

Abortion Road In the early 1990s, the sole road to Chongwu was so bad that locals claimed no pregnant lady could take the pot holes and bumps without losing her child. My first trip from Xiamen to Chongwu took eight hours, and we bounced so hard that I hit my head several times on the bus roof—which was 18 inches above my head. Fortunately, today it is smooth sailing all the way—but a century ago even an eight-hour trip would have seemed miraculous. In the nineteenth century, Mr. G. Philips wrote that the trip from Fuzhou to Quanzhou:

...which also takes five days to travel over, is bleak and barren, lying chiefly along the sea-coast, and in winter a most uncomfortable journey...

Nowadays, it is only a two-hour drive from Xiamen—freeway all the way.

Chongwu’s 2.467-meter wall is easily the best-preserved Ming Dynasty wall in existence, and constructed entirely of Hui’an’s greatest natural resource: granite. By day and night all throughout Hui’an, young and old alike chip away with stone and chisel to create everything from intricate temple dogs and garden lanterns to Mickey Mouses (or Mickey Mice?). They also build granite homes—and I know for a fact they’re cold in the winter! Worse yet, the poor men have no one to snuggle up too, as you’re about to learn… (Fig. 10.3).

Fig. 10.3

Chongwu Walled City Entrance

Hui’an Maidens (Adapted from Amoy Magic). Chongwu’s isolation on its peninsula prevented the ancient Baiyue people from assimilating into the Han culture, so much of their unique culture and dress still survives today. Considered Fujian’s most unique people group (though they are Han Chinese), they lure both tourists and social scientists with their unique fashions and strange marriage customs.

Unique Costumes Chinese say Hui’an girls have democratic bellies and feudal heads because their tight, short jackets and skintight black hip huggers that flare out baggily at the legs leave their bellies bare, but they fastidiously cover their heads with scarves. A Chongwu girl told me they emphasize the belly because in the Minnan dialect, belly “bazai” sounds like the Mandarin “facai” (to prosper). She also said the blouses were probably short to keep them out of the sea when they bent over the nets.

Scarves Hui’an women have more scarves than Imelda Marcos has shoes. Miss Huang said they average 120 or so scarves, and some accumulate over 300. “The scarf makes my round face look longer and prettier,” she explained. “And older ladies think scarves help them recover their youth.”

Derriere Dowry Unmarried Hui’an girls wear a wide, colorfully embroidered belt, but Miss Huang was evidently married because she sported the heavy silver belt (from 1.5 to 6.5 pounds) that is not only a girl’s dowry but also her marital insurance. “My husband doesn’t dare leave me,” she said, “because I have all his wealth around my waist.”

Photophobia Hui’an women are notorious for photophobia. Miss Huang said many share a superstition common around the world—that being photographed shortens one’s life. One wonders how they develop this negative outlook on photography (Fig. 10.4).

Fig. 10.4

Hui’an Maiden

Tying the Knot I like Hui’an costumes; I even have a small statue of one on my desk in the XMU’s MBA Center. But I doubt they leave their bellies bare simply to keep the blouses dry. I think the uncovered tummy is simply a tantalizing “revenge” for an ancient insult by a member of the lesser male species.

Legend has it that long ago, a young girl refused to marry a wealthy man. The man was determined to tie the knot, though, so he bound her up, carried her off, and married her in spite of her protests. Even today, the designs around shirts’ sleeves and waists are said to remind Hui’an girls of their tragic ancestor’s bonds. I also suspect the marriage customs are a form of eternal revenge upon all men.

Not This Year Dear… Ancient custom forbids bride and groom staying together on their wedding night, so the groom stays in a friend’s house. On day two, the bride pays respect to the groom’s family and gives gifts to the elders. On day three, the groom’s sister leads the bride to the communal well to draw two buckets of water. After five days of obeying various customs, she returns to her parents’ home. Bride and groom are not allowed to live together until she bears a child. But here I conceive a problem: When does she conceive?

Until a child is born, a woman cannot stay with her husband or even talk to him. If she meets him on the street, she must treat him as if he were a stranger. If her husband visits her home, she must wait in back until he leaves. The newlyweds are allowed to stay together only three times a year: Spring Festival, Grave-Sweeping Day, and Mid-Autumn Festival.

Hui’an lassies may be bothersome brides, but they are also indefatigable laborers. They clean house by night and spend all day lugging ponderous loads of rock or grain on baskets slung over their deceptively petite shoulders. Meanwhile, the men fish, or chisel stone in quarries, or hawk victims for their motorcycle taxis, or hang out in tea shops (Fig. 10.5).

Fig. 10.5

Hui’an Women Sawing Ship Beams

Chongwu Religion Religion is a big part of Chongwu life, and with wives like theirs, I can see why. On festivals, Chongwu people light candles and incense and offer sacrifices in the Temple of the 12th Lord, but nowadays, many also attend the newly renovated and expanded Protestant church, which was first built in the 1880s. As late as 1995, members sat on pews made of tree trunks split in half, but now the church has been rebuilt and expanded, and equipped with genuine pews, much to my derriere’s delight. Chongwu’s Catholic church attendance has also grown a lot recently. But Chongwu’s most unique temple, by far, is dedicated to 27 People’s Liberation Army (PLA) soldiers.

PLA Temple Imagine a temple that plays not Buddhist chants but revolutionary songs. Chongwu has one, thanks to Ms. Zeng Hen, who grinned and hugged me like I was the prodigal son returned, then gave me the red-carpet tour of her PLA temple, and told me the tale behind it.

Zeng Hen’s family moved from Singapore to Chongwu when she was 13. The following year, September 17, 1949, the teen was strolling the beach when Taiwanese bombers began strafing the shore. Gallant PLA soldiers rushed out to her rescue; 24 died in the attempt. Ms. Zeng Hen tried to show her thanks and respects by offering sacrifices and incense to the deceased soldiers.

In 1991, with 600,000 yuan in donations, she built the PLA temple. Initially, the army objected, fearful she was creating another religion, but in the end, they saw it as a great opportunity for folks to show respect for the PLA, and over the years not a few army officers have visited the unique temple (Fig. 10.6).

Fig. 10.6

Chongwu PLA Temple

Behind the altar loaded down with offerings of fruit, incense, crackers, soda cans, mineral water, wine and roasted watermelon seeds are the 27 little hand-painted PLA soldiers. (Three other local PLA martyrs were added for good measure). The figurines are fully uniformed and supplied with rifles and pistols, mobile phones, whistles, first-aid kits (a bit late for those?) and everything else a soldier needs. The 27 inhabitants are surrounded by toy tanks, airplanes, police cars, battleships, toy phones, and a pink plastic grand piano with a clown at the keyboard.

Ms. Zeng Hen has come a long way from the 13-year-old girl paying her respects with incense and fruit. I dare say that in a few centuries, folks will repeat the tale of how the 27 heavenly warriors descended upon a cloud to save Zeng Hen from the evil minions across the Strait.

Forest of Statues I think the walled city’s greatest attraction is… the walled city! But even though this is one of the best-preserved Ming Dynasty walls in China, many Chinese tourists give it but a cursory glance and head to the seaside to view Chongwu’s biggest tourist attraction—the forest of 500 new statues. Why bother? You can see thousands, for free, in the stores and factories lining former Abortion Highway Road (two decades ago, the modern highway into town was so bad that locals said a pregnant woman riding a bus over it would be bounced so badly she’d have an abortion). But one walk through the Forest of Statues and I changed my tune.

Over 500 statues portray fascinating people and events in history and literature (like Dream of Red Mansions, 红楼梦). The 108 famous generals from the Outlaws of the Marsh are also very popular. Chinese seem to revere generals. I doubt I could name a dozen American generals if my life depended upon it.

Hire a good guide to explain the stories behind the statues. For example, I’d have never known the polished black bull was stone, and that gave you good luck if you smacked it. Sounded like a lot of bull to me, but I smacked it, and the stone bull rang like a bell. I especially liked the chubby Maitreya Buddha, which I told my host looked like a Disney dwarf. “No way!” he said. “This beats Disney!” But I must have worried them because when I visited again a few months later, a granite Mickey Mouse stood behind Maitreya—for good measure, perhaps. Pretty Mickey Mouse, I thought.

Filial Piety A set of 24 statues represent the model sons in 24 tales epitomizing Confucius’ ideal of filial piety. Eight-year-old Wu Meng bared his body so mosquitoes would feast upon him first and spare his aged parents. Wang Xiang was so pious that when his wicked stepmother wanted fish in the winter, he lay upon the ice to melt the river with his body heat. Heaven took pity upon him and gave him the fish. A pious daughter breastfeeds her ailing mom. A pious emperor obeyed doctor’s orders and tasted his father’s excrement to help diagnose his father’s disease. Hindsight helped.

Black and White Cats My favorite statues are the two colossal cats representing Deng Xiaoping’s famous saying—“It does not matter if the cat is black or white as long as it catches rats.” The black cat has not only the mouse but also ancient Chinese coins under its paw and on its tail. Noting the lesson here, I thought it appropriate to photograph Hui’an native Professor Wu Shinong in front because he can surely “catch mice” (his story is at the end of this chapter).

Earth Art Many visitors do a double take when they see the boulders strewn along the shore, because here and there they look for the world like a fish, or a turtle. We have a Zhejiang art professor to thank for this “earth art”. With a few deft taps of the chisel here and there, he has transformed rocks and boulders into various sea creatures. I was right on top of a giant fish before I saw it. Good thing I wasn’t Jonah.

Hot Bread for Taiwan Many of the white ships anchored offshore are from Taiwan. Closer to Taizhong Harbor (94 miles) than Xiamen, Chongwu was the mainland’s first harbor to accept Taiwan ships. Chongwu and Taiwan folk jest that fresh baked Chongwu bread is still hot after making the two-hour crossing to Taiwan. With so many delays implementing the long-awaited “San Tong” (Three Links), it is nice to see that Chongwu already has her own “Mini San Tong” (小三通).

Amazing Walled City Maze The walled city is amazing. It is also quite a maze. Of course, it is no problem getting out because all you have to do is head in one direction long enough until you reach the wall, which you can ascend to get your bearings before you descend and lose them again. I’ve considered tying a piece of string around my waist and reeling myself in afterward, but some enterprising Hui’an peasant would probably cut the string and sell it. But after much trial and error (mostly error), I’ve figured out a surefire way of getting in and out.

The walled city has several large gates, and a few small ones. Enter the gate at the top of the narrow road that begins at the Protestant church and step back in time 300 years—except for the kamikaze motorcyclists who careen around corners, hands glued to their horns. Just down the path on the left is the Chen-Family Ancestral Home.

Chen-Family Ancestral Home The first time I peeked through the courtyard door of the Chen home, a granny grinned, spouted off something in the dialect, grabbed my arm, and led me inside for tea. They gave me a tour of their home, and showed me the ancestral paintings and photos.

They’ve been in this home for hundreds of years, and much hasn’t changed—but Mrs. Chen does have a topnotch kitchen. Of course, this came as no surprise. Chinese are not only the planet’s best cooks but also the best eaters, spending much of their waking lives cooking and eating delightful (most of the time) foods.

Their son was bent over a giant basin of dough making some of Chongwu’s famous fish rolls. This family has sold them for several generations, and I bought about 10 pounds to give to friends back home. Sliced and fried, they are heavenly.

At the T My landmark is the “T” intersection’s temple. Turn right at the “T” and follow South Gate Street (Nanmen Lu, 南门路) all the way to the seaside gate. Note the architecture—the rounded Minnan roofs, and the “flying sparrow” eaves. Also note the tailor, Mr. Chen. He uses a 100-year-old “Minjiang River” sewing machine—much the same as those used a century ago. Newly minted machines are made much the same, but no point in reinventing the wheel. They work, and they don’t require electricity.

Lighthouse Ascend the wall opposite the temple and walk north to the lighthouse, which offers a nice view of the walled city, and of the large crescent of a beach, with its fine white extraterrestrial sand (Hui’an has miles of beautiful beaches). Then either return the way you came, or walk along the top of the wall (which helps you avoid the funerals, which can back you up a dead end).

Funerals It seems that every time we visit Chongwu we encounter a long funeral procession of paid professional mourners, musicians—and plastic babies? The tail end of the procession often has several men bearing a litter containing naked plastic baby dolls. I asked what they symbolized but they said they didn’t know. Rebirth, perhaps?

After seeing the third funeral in one day, I told an MBA student who was with me: “China has more dying people than any place on the planet.”

“That’s not true!” he protested. “We have great medical care here.”

“It is mathematics, not medicine,” I said. “Biggest population”.

The walled city’s streets are so narrow there is no way to escape funeral processions, so you just press your back to the wall and cover your ears to shut out the cacophony of cymbals, drums, trumpets, and “suona”. “Suona” is the horn commonly played at funerals, but I’d think the shrill thing would wake the dead, not comfort them.

The professional mourners were so surprised to see us “Laowai”, backs to the wall, that they forgot to wail and stared at us as if we were demons from hell itself, instead of just standard-issue foreign devils from afar. I waved, they grinned and waved back—and then got down to business again, wailing piteously as if in apology to the extinguished object of this parade.

The “Chinese Stare” One thing that has changed little over the past century is the “Chinese Stare”. Everywhere, people gather around the “Laowai” and stare. It is unsettling at times, but understandable if you realize that we also stare at unusual sites, or people. If I recognize a movie star in Los Angeles, I do a double take. If I see an Arab in robes and headdress, I stare. And let’s face it—as we “Laowai” tourists roam the narrow winding streets of Chongwu, we stare at them! Worse, we take photos as they go about their lives, as if they were exhibits. So, if we, the very unusual foreigner, are stared at, or surrounded by crowds, or have parents with little children point at us and say: “See, Little Plum Blossom, that’s a foreigner!” (to which I often respond: “I can’t help it!”), it is understandable. But fortunately, the crowds are friendly—and were even back in 1889.

When McGowan wrote The Story of the Amoy Mission in 1889, the Chinese were still smarting from the humiliation of defeat in the two Opium Wars, and foreigners were not always the most welcome site. Yet even then, McGowan wrote that, once the Chinese got to know you:

The crowd becomes sympathetic. The sneer dies out of their faces. There is nothing that touches the Chinese heart so mightily as practical benevolence. It is a virtue they highly appreciate. Their stolid, emotionless features begin to light up with genuine feeling, and the eyes of some are twinkling and flashing as their hearts are moved... (what) has just happened has been a mighty revelation. It has brought you closer to the Chinese heart than you were before, and it has revealed to you the wondrous possibilities of the future...²

So, as you stare at the places and peoples, accept their good-natured stares in return! And given that they are going to stare, give them their money’s worth, as I do when I talk to the village pigs, goats, chickens, and turkeys (both two- and four-legged varieties).

Huiquan Beer Quanzhou is famed not only for Anxi tea but also, more recently, Huiquan beer. Though I’m not one to root for beer (root beer is more my speed), bona fide beer aficionados claim Huiquan beer is one of China’s best—and the best with seafood.

Huiquan has invested hundreds of millions to give Qingdao Beer (produced in the former German colony) and the imports a good run for their money. After Professor Wu Shinong showed me around the sprawling, modern Huiquan factory, we visited the biergarten (beer garden) downtown just outside the old factory where my companions tasted various brews while I stared at the sculpture on the back wall that looked suspiciously like a giant marijuana leaf.

I can’t really judge Huiquan beer, so I checked with the pros at www.beeradvocate.com, and found this review by “Stoutman”:

A Chinese surprise!!!! Very light and easy to drink with a hint of fruitiness in the aroma. The yeast culture provides the perfect refreshing spicy and fruity character that is expected of a wheat beer. Even stranger, this beer has an almost pale green color. It also has considerably more hop flavor than any of the traditional wheat styles of beer I have sampled. I generally dislike wheat beers, but this one is good.

Wood Carving While Hui’an’s biggest drawing card is stone carving, the city also has quite a few factories producing quality wood statues. I waltzed in unannounced at the Hui’an Jusheng Crafts Company, and even though they knew I wasn’t going to buy, the general manager, Mr. Lu Peiyang (卢培养) and his 16-year-old son Lu Dongqiang (卢东强), served up the tea and gave me a tour of the four-story factory.

Mr. Lu said most of Hui’an’s wooden statues are religious objects for export, and suggested I look for secular carvings in Putian or Xianyou, up the coast toward Fuzhou. I was surprised that, given the high quality of the wood and the artistry, the statues were painted, gilded and smothered in wigs and costumes. I asked what the point was of using expensive wood when mass produced plastic of ceramic would look the same. “Tradition,” Manager Lu said. “Temples want wood.”

Idol Talk The endless array of wooden idols brought to mind the old Chinese saying, “He who carves the Buddha does not worship them.”And I wondered what kind of deities they were, and who on earth (or China) worshiped them. For example, the nattily attired idol wearing a fez and clasping a pile of gold coins in his lap looked Muslim—which wasn’t too far-fetched. Muslim traders, after all, were the best businessmen in the ancient Orient. But Muslims don’t worship idols, and Miss Qu Weiwei checked it out and found he is Nadu Gong (拿督公), a local earth god (Tudi Gong, 土地公) for overseas Chinese in Malaysia. When they first moved to Malaysia, they discovered the natives worshiped the local earth in the hopes of a good harvest. The Chinese adapted the idea by piling some gold in the down-to-earth deity’s lap so he would know just what kind of harvest the enterprising Chinese wanted.

For your edification, Overseas Chinese University’s Miss Qu Weiwei gives us the stories behind three of the most common idols.

The Chinese Zorro! Jigong Living Buddha (Geekung, 济公活佛) is a favorite subject for sculptures and paintings, and one of China’s most colorful characters. Also called “Crazy Monk” (Jidian Monk, 济颠), this wine swilling, meat munching monk was loved by the common people because he cared for the poor and put the rich in their place—kind of like a Chinese Robin Hood (罗宾汉) or Zorro.

Jigong was born to the Li family during the Southern Song Dynasty in Zhejiang Province. By age 12, he was already a “Xiucai” (skilled writer, 秀才), but he was obsessed with the sutras and became a monk, changing his name from Li Xiuyuan (李修远) to Daoji (道济). Jigong loved meat, especially dog meat, and getting drunk, and in general acted like a mad man. This unorthodox behavior earned him the nickname Crazy Monk. Today, a cave by Linyin Temple’s (灵隐寺) Flying Stone (飞来峰) has beds and tables named after Jigong because it is said that he went here to roast dogs and guzzle wine.

Jigong used a ratty old folding fan for a weapon, which in his magical hands was deadlier than the sharpest sword. Armed with this magical fan, he fought injustice and punished stupid or bad officials. The Chinese saying for his behavior is, “When encountering injustice, aid the oppressed” (“Lùjiànbùpíngbōdāoxiāngzhù”, 路见不平拔刀相助). Like Zorro, Jigong fought injustice with style, usually causing the villain to look ridiculous, which earned him the affection of the downtrodden.

The Story of Jigong (《济公传》) was written about the mad monk, and some people believe he was one of the 500 arhats, but because Buddha did not approve of his behavior (especially his wine guzzling and penchant for roasted puppy legs), his statue is always in the temple aisles and not with the other more holy arhats (who still manage some mighty bellies for being vegetarians; I suspect they had a few hot dogs too).

Nazha (哪咤), the fat little boy with the funny haircut, is another frequent subject of paintings, sculptures, and folk tales. The story actually comes from India. The boy Nalakuvara was said to be the third son of General Li Jing (李靖) in heaven. His father disliked the boy and treated him like a monster because he was in his mother’s womb for three years and emerged round like a ball.

Nazha’s powerful teacher gave him a magic ring (乾坤圈)—a great gift, but one that led him to his doom when he practiced with it upon the seashore. The ring was so powerful that it stirred up the dragon king’s underwater home. Nazha wasn’t really trying to make waves, but the infuriated lizard sent his son to fight Nazha. After Nazha killed the dragon’s son, the dragon king determined to kill the entire family of General Li Jing (who was much lower in rank than the dragon). To save his family, Nazha committed suicide by cutting his body and bones to pieces. His powerful teacher then saved him by using a lotus for his body, after which he became the original flower child. Over the years, the legends multiplied. In Journey to the West (西游记) Nazha even battled the monkey king (but was defeated by the superior simian).

Black and White Wuchangs These two demons stick out above the crowd because their long red tongues are always sticking out, lolling down past their fat chins. Mr. White Wuchang has a white face, white clothes, and a tall white hat upon which are the four characters “Tianxia Taiping” (天下太平), meaning “All under heaven is peaceful.’’ Mr. Black Wuchang has a black face, black clothes, and a black hat with the characters “Yijian Facai” (一见发财), meaning, “You prosper as soon as you see him.” Both phrases are nice (peace, and prosperity), but Chinese fear seeing them because what is the point of either peace or prosperity if you’re dead?

Mr. White and Mr. Black have different personalities but the same job description: kill folks and escort their souls to hell, where they are judged by the king of hell after they have undergone various procedures and ordeals such as crossing the Naihe Bridge (奈何桥), where they must drink the Mengpo Soup (孟婆汤) so that they forget everything that happened during their life.

It seems a bit unfair to be judged for a life you’re totally forgotten, but Mengpo Soup or not, in Chinese mythology, once you die there is hell to pay.

FormalPara Professor Wu Shinong—Hui’an Entrepreneur

It is easier to understand Hui’an’s rapid economic growth when you’ve spent a few years in the shadow of a Hui’an entrepreneur like Professor Wu Shinong, of XMU’s MBA Center (now XMU’s Vice President). He epitomizes the local talent and drive that made ancient Zaytun a City of Light, and that is rekindling that light today.

Wu Shinong was born in Hui’an County, and after graduating from high school in 1974, he spent four years as a factory worker during the “Cultural Revolution”. His parents owned a small grocery store before 1949, and after Liberation escaped being labeled capitalists because of their stores’ small scale—but since then the Wu family has proven to be entrepreneurs to the bone.

After 1949, they became sales people in a state-run store. Today, they have two houses and several stores. Wu Shinong has three older sisters and one older brother. The brother runs a small watch store, the older sister is retired, the middle sister runs a small transportation company with three trucks, and the youngest sister works at Huiquan Beer (her policeman husband was my guide on one of few dozen Chongwu trips).

Wu Shinong, like the rest of his family, is an entrepreneur. In fact, I joke that his name should be “Wushi buneng” (无事不能) because I suspect there’s not much he can’t do when he puts his mind to it. But fortunately for me, he has focused his talents on China’s future: MBA business education.

In 1978, Wu Shinong entered XMU, majoring in economics, and in 1986 received an MBA from Dalhousie in Canada. From 1987 he worked on a joint PhD program between XMU and Dalhousie; spending two years in Xiamen and one year in Dalhousie, was a Fulbright scholar in Stanford in 1994, and returned to Xiamen in 1995.

Though young (my age!), Professor Wu Shinong has been integrally involved in every step of China’s development of management education, beginning with the initial feasibility study from 1987 to 1989, and the test group for MBA education in China (18 professors from nine universities organized this).

In 1999, Professor Wu was selected as one of the 10 Chinese professors who have had the most influence on empirical research in economics and management. The prolific professor has written four books, co-authored three, and published 60 pieces in leading journals. He also helped translate Steven Ross’ bestseller, Corporate Finance. Professor Wu was the first person in China to study security market efficiency, and the effect of financial information on capital markets.

Early on, Professor Wu upset the apple cart when he published a paper on China’s accounting in General Accounting Research. In part because Professor Wu is not an accountant, traditional economists heatedly argued his points, but younger scholars recognized the validity of his arguments and approach. During his studies, Professor Wu saw that the holistic viewpoint was crucial—“seeing the interrelationships between capital markets, accounting information, and how they affect one another and investors.”

Professor Wu, who studied economics and statistics, said:

In 1991, because the Chinese capital market was just established, there was no precedence, very short history, and no promotion of empirical studies. In 1995 I started thinking about this problem, and we had a better information base at that time, and I was able to show that the capital market did react to financial information, and corporations’ announcements. So, I started thinking about this. In 1993 I wrote the first paper about capital market efficiency, but I only had 16 firms from Shanghai and Shenzhen security exchange to study. It was a small number, but it was only the first attempt. Nowadays we have larger samples—sometimes more than 1,000 firms. And now you can find that there is relatively stable behavior, or patterns to examine, and you can compare or use Western capital market theory to apply to China’s situation, and you can see differences, and explore the reasons for the differences. There are so many questions of interest.

Regarding XMU’s MBA program, Professor Wu said:

Only a handful of universities can offer comprehensive PhDs in management (in all specialties). XMU is one of them. In July 1990, XMU was the first Chinese university allowed to offer a Chinese MBA; Nankai followed one week later. MBA degrees weren’t official then, so the graduation certificates said: “Economics (Business Administration M.A.).” Students were upset, so we called it the Masters of Economics (Business Administration).

Nankai, like XMU, began as a joint project with Canada. They had the first graduates one week after XMU’s MBA—they were told by Beijing to follow the procedures already worked out with XMU.

In his copious free time, Professor Wu is a husband and father—and judging from his daughter, doing pretty well at that too. His daughter is a math whiz, as well as good at English and Chinese, in the top 15 of her school, and wants to study journalism, law, or management—first at Peking University, and then on to Harvard, Stanford, or Cambridge.

FormalPara Notes

• 1. Macgowan, Rev. John, The Story of the Amoy Mission, reprinted by Ch’eng Wen Publishing Company, Taipei, 1971. Originally by Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, London, August 1889, p. 127.

• 2. Ibid.