Hong Kong: Sacred Peaks of the New Territories

Qingming – Sweeping of the Graves

Hong Kong is often portrayed through a modern lens, showcasing its iconic skyscrapers, vibrant city lights, and the bustling energy of urban life. However, hidden beyond the city’s facade lies an unexpected sanctuary — the New Territories.

Here, the landscape unfolds like a traditional Chinese painting, with graceful mountains creating a serene silhouette against the horizon. This picturesque canvas encapsulates steep peaks, tranquil valleys, and expansive ocean vistas, embodying the profound concept of ‘shan shui’ (mountains and water in Cantonese).

This secluded haven in Hong Kong holds a deep and personal significance for me. Situated far from the crowded streets and perpetual clamour, it stands as the tranquil final resting place of my parents. Cradled within the mountains, it is the perfect repose — adorned with blossoming pink trees that frame a captivating seascape below, a gentle murmur of tranquility pervades the atmosphere, and I automatically feel a comforting embrace of seclusion and assurance.

My dad’s decision to choose this plot prompts introspection as I sit here. Considering my father’s profound pride in Hong Kong, cultivated over his 40+ years away from his motherland, I contemplate whether, in selecting this sacred space, he envisioned it as more than just a site for their eternal repose. Perhaps it was his subtle way of nudging us to return, encouraging each of us to reconnect with our roots and honour the enduring ties to our heritage.

It would make sense…

During my formative years, my dad was determined that my six sisters and I embark on the lengthy journey from the UK to Hong Kong. He was unwavering in this commitment, even if it meant extending the mortgage or taking out a loan. His aim was to provide us with the opportunity to work and live in Hong Kong under a resident permit if we chose to do so, resulting in visits every ten years.

So, Hong Kong had weaved itself into my life from a young age. At the tender age of five, I made my inaugural visit – encountering the warmth of my paternal grandmother’s presence, relishing the flavours of authentic dim sum and street food, and stumbling upon my distaste for Chinese opera. The high-pitched shrieks and ghostly painted faces in the open theater created an overwhelming sensory experience that proved too intense for my young self to bear. Since then, I’ve steered clear of any form of opera — Italian included.

Later on, a crucial year-long work placement during my studies brought me back, immersing me more profoundly in to Hong Kong’s rich scene and my heritage. I delved into the city’s vibrant nightlife, karaoke-ing with the locals and savoring the pulsating energy after dark. As the Food Capital of the World, the culinary scene took centre stage, introducing me to an array of flavours from South East Asia – Thai, Filipino, Korean, Japanese…

Beyond the hustle and bustle, I stumbled upon the serene charm of the New Territories. Weekends became my gateway to peaceful escapes, venturing into the quieter region where my dad spent his youth. Embracing the tranquility, I also rowed in the calming embrace of the sea, allowing the serenity of the surroundings to envelop me completely.

With youthful exuberance, I pedaled through picturesque landscapes of rice paddies and rock pools all the way to the border of mainland China. This was before the 1997 handover, when Hong Kong was still under British rule, and the soldiers at the Chinese border promptly marched towards me, signaling me to turn back with pointed rifles.

So, as I partake in the QingMing ritual at this spot, I do it with the understanding that Hong Kong isn’t just a place; it’s part of my story.

My back-packing travels have come to a pause, grounding me temporarily in Hong Kong, where my sister now resides. I’m here for QingMing, known as the ‘Sweeping of the Graves’ ceremony, a Chinese tradition that brings families together to remember and honour their ancestors at grave sites.

People of all ages come together to participate in the QingMing ritual, a solemn ceremony where they collectively pray, sweep the tombs holding the ashes of their dearly beloved, and offer various items such as food, tea, wine, chopsticks, and special paper mâché offerings.

Despite harbouring some skepticism about the necessity of cars, mobile phones, and cash in the afterlife, I choose to honour my parents’ beliefs. Alongside my sister, I ascended the steep climb armed with joss sticks, paper dim sum, cardboard roast duck, chicken, pork, and faux HK and American dollars.

During my last visit in April 2012, my sisters and I came together to reunite my mother’s ashes with my father’s, laying them to rest side by side.

The wounds back then were still fresh from losing my mother just two months prior. The pain was palpable, but this time it feels different, lighter. I guess the emotional burden has eased with time.

Time, they say, heals all wounds.

The QingMing ritual unfolded with meticulous steps, each carrying profound symbolic meaning.

Firstly, the shrine, a simple concrete structure safeguarding my parents’ ashes, underwent a thorough clean, removing layers of dust and debris that have accumulated over the course of a year. The surrounding ground was carefully swept, symbolizing the elimination of negativity and the welcoming of positive energies. This ritual not only restores the shrine’s physical cleanliness but also creates a symbolic space for renewed purity and reverence.

Next, we burned joss sticks, three each for my parents and the rest for our ancestors. With each stick, we reverently pressed it against our foreheads, bowing three times towards the tomb as a sincere gesture of respect and acknowledgment.

Then, we decorated the tomb with fresh flowers and laid fresh oranges in front of the shrine. In Chinese tradition, oranges are associated with prosperity and good luck, serving as a wish for a positive afterlife journey for our loved ones.

Lastly, we lit a small fire in a concrete pit and burned the papier mâché offerings we had purchased, a symbolic gesture of providing gifts to loved ones in the afterlife.

As we burned paper dim sums, our voices rang out loud, a call to our parents, letting them know of our presence and inviting them to come collect the symbolic gifts offered in their honour.

I didn’t anticipate a literal response, but I spoke to them quietly while my sister trimmed overgrown bushes, ensuring an unobstructed seascape view for our parents. A yearning surged within me to hear my parents’ voices and seek their guidance during this phase of my life, marked by significant uncertainties. I longed for the reassurance that the path I traversed was one that would earn their approval.

Did they, from the realm beyond, look upon my life’s choices with a sense of pride, witnessing the twists and turns that had shaped my journey? Or was there, perhaps, a tinge of disappointment in the air, a subtle sigh at my restlessness, navigating the vast expanse of the earth with no fixed destination?

Was there even such a thing as an afterlife?

Was Qingming, with its rituals and traditions, just a collection of nonsensical beliefs? While I was raised with these traditions passed down through generations, I found myself questioning if I truly believed in them.

Out of nowhere, two white butterflies emerged, gracefully interrupting my internal contemplation, as they twirled delicately around us.

“Look!” my sister exclaimed, “It’s mammy and daddy!”

Often seen as messengers from the celestial realm, these ethereal creatures symbolize that our loved ones’ essence goes beyond the physical. Following the immediate passing of both my dad and then my mum, my sisters shared vivid accounts of seeing butterflies fluttering around them, even in November and February.

Desiring to wholeheartedly believe, I interpreted the enchanting presence of the butterflies as a poignant sign that my parents lingered in spirit, attentively watching over and guiding us. With unwavering conviction, I clung to the reassuring notion that they would accompany me throughout my ongoing journey, casting their benevolent gaze upon each step I took.

I want to shout out to fellow spiritual Globetrotters Matthew David and Brina Patel

Please check out their stories below 👇