Bun Towers of Steel Get Hong Kong Bamboo Purists Steamed Amid Revived Rite
Safety Rules Recast Climbing Ritual;
Tense Debate Over Tensile Strength
HONG KONG -- Once a year for the past four decades, Chan Lam has put his trade to work: The 82-year-old is Hong Kong's master bamboo bun-tower builder.
Every May on a fishing island a short ferry ride from Hong Kong's financial district, Mr. Chan and his crew assemble dozens of bamboo poles into three 15-meter-high towers. Then they plaster each tower with 6,400 fluffy white buns stamped with red Chinese characters wishing long life and good health. The ritual started in the 1890s when the islanders offered food to the ghosts of those who had died in an outbreak of bubonic plague in exchange for protection from illness and misfortune.
The buns on Mr. Chan's towers are lucky: The higher the bun, the better the luck. Traditionally, residents of Cheung Chau island scaled the towers to try to nab the top bun. But the collapse of a tower in 1978 that injured about 100 people -- a couple seriously -- led to a Hong Kong government ban on climbing. Mr. Chan continued to build the structures and festoon them with the cakes, but only as a display.
Last night, after 27 years, the scaling and snatching returned, but with a government-ordered safety tweak: A new tower was added, and it is made of steel. Further, the authorities transformed the scramble for buns into an orderly performance for the public, not a free-for-all that could have caused another accident. In a fenced-in, brightly lit soccer ground where the tower stood, dozens of security guards restricted entry to a limited number of onlookers, government officials, organizers and press. Behind the enclosure stood Mr. Chan's three bun-covered, bamboo towers amid the clangs of Chinese opera symbols and holy smoke of incense. At the stroke of midnight, 12 climbers -- chosen from 105 applicants -- raced up the tower, thrusting buns into sacks on their backs, all strapped to the structure with mountaineering equipment. The crowd cheered and shrieked as buns flew off the steel tower during the three-minute climb.
"Every tradition has to stand the test of time and be gradually modified," says Home Affairs Secretary Patrick Ho, whose department created the new rules over the past year. "Because the tradition ended up with an accident, that tradition was dangerous. I'm sure they want fun, but we want to ensure safety."
The government's cautious hand in managing the festival irked islanders who wax nostalgic for the freewheeling scramble on the traditional bamboo towers. The event often pitted hardened fishermen skilled at climbing up masts in a no-holds-barred race to the top.
This year, by contrast, the 12 climbers selected to participate, out of 105 applicants, went through a two-day training course. A government notice warned participants that the race must be held in an "orderly and safe manner" and cautioned against "grabbing other participants' clothing or safety gear." For Angel Liu, a 30-year-old cook from Hong Kong Island, joining the government-orchestrated event wasn't about reviving tradition but "a new challenge" for the avid rock climber.
In contrast, Anil Kwong, a Cheung Chau native and a vice chairman of the festival organizing committee, says carabiners, harnesses and ropes took away all the thrill of the original event. Besides, notes the part-time insurance agent, "no one died" in the 1978 accident.
The debate over the towers' building materials has attracted special attention in Hong Kong. To the government, the conical shape of the festival's free-standing bamboo towers makes them structurally weaker than the bamboo scaffolding commonly affixed to high-rise buildings under construction or repair. Citing safety concerns, the government last year rejected a bid by Cheung Chau residents to resume the climbing on bun towers of bamboo.
So instead of employing the services of Mr. Chan and his family, the government hired a sports-facility construction company from the city to erect a single tower of steel in Cheung Chau's concrete soccer ground. A crew of workers in neon safety harnesses screwed together pieces of Japanese steel in mid-April. After completing the shiny structure, they covered it with bamboo, to give it a proper feel.
That approach horrifies traditionalists. "It would be more respectful to the gods" to have towers of bamboo to climb, says Mr. Chan, who has trained his fifth son and one of his grandsons in bun-tower construction.
What is more, bamboo is just as safe as steel, advocates of the traditional towers insist.
There is a scientific basis for the argument. Bamboo has a higher tensile strength than steel, which means it can withstand greater force pulling it apart, according to Dr. Jules Janssen, a bamboo expert in Eindhoven, the Netherlands. Because it is light and bendable, bamboo is ideal for heights, odd shapes and small spaces.
Bamboo scaffolding is used variously in 90% of Hong Kong's construction projects. The long poles tied together with black plastic strips often go as high as 40 stories, with the scaffolding resting against the building.
The Hong Kong government permits the use of bamboo, and in 2001 issued a 43-page code of practice. More than 150 companies in Hong Kong specialize in such scaffolding. "Using bamboo is part of the culture of construction here," says Francis Wong, a professor at Hong Kong Polytechnic University.
But as more Hong Kong engineers are educated in Western universities, the use of bamboo will fall off, says Mr. Wong. In the construction of the 88-story International Finance Centre II, Hong Kong's tallest building -- and, at 420 meters, the world's sixth-tallest -- contractors banned bamboo, citing fire and other safety concerns.
Bamboo still has one important virtue: It is a lot less expensive. For the reusable steel bun tower, the government paid $73,000, while Mr. Chan charges $10,380 for three towers of bamboo.
Cost has long been a consideration for Cheung Chau. As the event grew in popularity, expenses also rose, forcing the festival's chairman to mortgage his house to put on the three-day Taoist festival, according to the bun committee's Mr. Kwong. The need for cash brought in the triads, which in the 1970s helped bankroll the festivities, including Mr. Chan's bill.
The midnight bun-tower race was a raucous affair. In 1978, as dozens of people hoisted themselves onto the towers, one of the structures teetered and toppled onto the crowd.
Since that time, Mr. Chan, who raised 10 children on a carpenter's salary, has kept at the trade he studied some 50 years ago under Cheung Chau's previous bun-tower master. The sugar-filled cakes that studded his towers are removed and distributed to residents, rather than fought over. The auspicious buns -- originally intended to assuage "hungry ghosts" -- of people killed in the outbreak of the plague in the 1890s and by pirates who trawled the South China Sea -- aren't usually eaten but, rather, are put in family shrines.
On a hot Sunday three weeks before this year's event, Mr. Chan sought out shade to split a nine-meter bamboo pole into six strips by hammering three bamboo wedges down the rod with a rusty cleaver. Sweat dripping down his cheek, the octogenarian joked with a white-haired friend that they had better pray for long life or else his craft will be lost.
Chan Chuen-wai plans to meet his grandfather's wish and carry on the tradition, even if the bamboo towers he builds won't be used for climbing. But the 23-year-old isn't interested in the debate and is glad that he will get to watch the bun climb for the first time. Leaning his weight on a bamboo stage, he looks over to the rocket-like steel tower about 50 meters away. "It looks good," he says, nodding his head. "Close to the original."
包山换新装重回故里
过去四十年来，陈林(Chan Lam, 音译)每年都会展现一次他的独特手艺：这位82岁的老人是香港当地制作竹子包山的专家。
陈林住在香港一个渔岛上，从金融区乘渡船很短时间就能到达。每年5月，陈林和他的工友们用几十根竹竿扎成三个15米高的塔，然后在每个塔上布置6,400多个松软雪白的包子，包子外皮上印有祝愿长寿健康的红字。这项传统始于19世纪90年代。当时一次腺鼠疫夺走了很多人的生命，于是岛民们向逝世者的阴魂供奉食品，祈求得到保护，远离疾病和不幸。
陈林制作的包山代表好运：包子的位置越高，代表的运气就越好。按照当地传统，长洲岛的居民比赛攀爬包山、争夺位置最高的包子。但在1978年的活动中，包山倒塌，大约有100人受伤，其中几人伤势严重。从那以后政府就禁止举办这项活动。但陈林没有停下来，还继续制作包山，并用蛋糕来装饰，不过它们只能看不能爬。
阔别27年后，抢包山比赛重回长洲，不过这回采取了一些政府强制的安全措施。跟过去不同的是：这次多了一个新型的包山塔，是用钢材料做的。此外，当局为了避免再次发生事故，把自由参与的争抢改为秩序井然的公众表演。包山耸立在足球场上，球场周围有围栏，灯火通明。几十名保安人员控制入场人数。除了围观的市民，出席者还包括政府官员、活动组织者和媒体。围栏后面摆放著陈林制作的三个竹包山，包山周围是叮当作响的戏曲装饰用具，熏香缭绕。半夜12点一敲响，从105名申请者中选出的12个攀爬选手飞快跃上包山，一边往上爬一边摘下包子放进背包中。他们身上都有登山设备连到包山架上。比赛持续3分钟，围观的人群不时发出阵阵喝彩，包子落下之处，随即掀起一阵尖叫。
民政事务局局长何志平(Patrick Ho)表示，每项传统都要经受时间的考验，并逐渐完善。民政事务局在过去一年中给这个传统活动制定了新的规则。他称，这项活动比较危险，上次就发生了意外。居民喜欢娱乐，但要确保安全。
政府的谨慎手法让某些怀旧的岛民很懊恼，他们十分怀念大伙儿无拘无束攀爬传统包山的热闹场景。过去比赛时，有些渔民表现很顽强，但由于缺少安全保护而在比赛过程中受伤。
今年，从105个申请者中选出来的12名攀爬选手比赛前接受了为期两天的培训。政府公告提醒参赛者，比赛一定要以“安全有序的方式”进行，注意不能抓扯其他比赛者的衣服或安全装备。对于30岁的香港岛厨师Angel Liu来说，参加政府主办的抢包山比赛与其说是重温传统，不如说是对他这个攀岩爱好者的一个新挑战。
然而长洲居民、抢包山活动组织委员会副主席Anil Kwong则说，安全绳和钩子等装备使比赛不像以前那么刺激。Kwong是兼职保险经纪。他还说，1978年那次意外“并没有人死亡”。
关于包山搭建材料问题的争论尤其引起香港人的注意。政府认为过去所用的圆锥形竹包山没有固定的支撑物，结构不稳固，不像那些施工大楼旁固定的脚手架那么扎实。出于安全考虑，政府去年拒绝了长洲岛民要求重办抢包山比赛的申请。
因此，政府没有使用陈林一家制作的包山，而是聘请本市一家体育设施承包商在长洲岛的水泥足球场上搭建了一座钢结构塔。钢材料是日本生产的，工作人员在4月中旬施工，把材料拼接起来。施工时工作人员都配有氖安全绳，安全措施到家。闪闪发亮的钢架搭好后，为了保持原有的传统特色，工作人员在外层包上竹竿。
这种做法让那些传统的居民很反感。陈林说用竹子做包山“显得对神更加尊重”。陈林的第五个儿子和一个孙子在他的指导下学习包山制作技术。
支持传统包山结构的人坚称竹子和钢一样安全。
这种说法不乏科学根据。荷兰爱因霍芬竹子研究专家朱尔斯?詹森(Jules Janssen)称，竹子的抗张强度高于钢材，即竹子能承受更大的拉伸力。由于具有品质轻、易弯曲的特点，竹子适合作为形状奇特、占用空间小、有一定高度的结构物的材料。
香港有90%的建筑项目使用竹子搭建的脚手架。长长的竹竿用黑色的塑胶带绑接起来，经常有40层楼那么高，紧挨著建筑的墙面。
香港政府允许使用竹子，并在2001年公布了43页的操作指南。香港有150多家公司专业搭建这类的脚手架。“使用竹子是当地建筑文化的一部分，”香港理工大学教授Francis Wong说。
但Wong又表示，随著更多的香港工程师接受的是西方大学教育，使用竹子的传统会渐渐衰落。在88层的国际金融中心二期的施工中，承包商就禁止使用竹子做脚手架，理由是避免著火和其他一些安全考虑。国际金融中心二期高达420米，是香港最高的建筑，世界排名第六。
竹子还有一个重要的优点：便宜。可重复使用的钢包山塔花了政府7.3万美元，而陈林做的三个竹子包山塔收费才10,380美元。
成本一直是长洲要考虑的问题。随著此项活动的知名度越来越高，举办费用也随之攀升。据组织委员会副主席Kwong称，为了使这个为期3天的道教传统活动得以顺利进行，委员会主席被迫抵押自己的房子来凑集经费。
半夜举行的抢包山比赛热闹非凡。1978年的时候，由于有几十人攀爬，包山不堪重压，倒向人群。
这次事故后，陈林并没有丢掉手艺。他做木工为生，抚养10个孩子。这门手艺是他50年前从长洲岛另一位包山大师那里学来的。密布在包山上的糖馅包子再也没有人去争抢，而是被摘下来分派给街坊。包含美好祝愿的包子最初是用来祭拜那些“饿鬼”--在19世纪90年代的鼠疫中去世的人和遭到南中国海域强盗洗劫而遇难的人。这些包子通常都不食用，而是供奉在家里的神位上。
今年抢包山活动之前三周的一个炎热的星期天，陈林找了个阴凉的地方，用一把锈迹斑斑的劈柴刀把三个竹楔子敲进空心的竹竿，9米长的竹竿转眼被劈成6个竹条。汗水从他的脸上滴下来。这位年过八旬的老人跟他一位满头银发的朋友开玩笑，说他们最好祈祷长命百岁，否则他的手艺就要失传了。
陈全维(Chan Chuen-wai, 音译)打算继承祖父的手艺、满足老人家的心愿，虽然他做的竹塔再也不用来攀爬。这个23岁的小伙子对包山塔材料的争论不感兴趣，但很高兴能第一次看到抢包山比赛。他靠在用竹子搭建的表演台边上，张望50米以外的火箭形钢塔。“挺漂亮的，”他点头说，“跟传统包山塔的样子很像。”
