Sifu Sabrina explains the feng shui aspect of the Chinese Winter Solstice Festival

My knuckles rap on the wooden door of Sifu Sabrina’s office in Low Yat Plaza, and a muffled voice from the other side says, “Come on in.”

Easing the door open, I step inside and my eyes gobble up the scene in the room. They turn bulgy like a lizard’s!

Sitting a few feet from her desk, Sifu Sabrina locks gazes with me, her skimpy outfit showing a dangerous amount of flesh, her right hand holding a feng shui book aloft. “Holy cow, Ewe!” Her red lips turn into a beautiful sight as she speaks. “I haven’t seen hair nor hide of you in months!” 

From a plastic bag, I take out two lidded plastic bowls of tang yuan and set them on Sabrina’s rosewood desk. “Ta-da! I brought tang yuan for you!” I sit in the visitor’s chair and push one bowl towards her. “Can you tell me the feng shui aspect of the Winter Solstice Festival?” From the plastic bag, I whip out two small spoons.

Sabrina tosses her book aside and rises to her feet. “Sure, my pleasure.” She pushes her chair to her desk, squeezes in the space between the chair and the desk and plonks her butt down.    

I open the lid of my bowl, revealing colourful glutinous rice balls floating in sweet screwpine soup.  The aroma of screwpine swirls upward, colliding with the scent of ylang ylang from Sabrina’s perfume.   

“In the Northern Hemisphere,” Sabrina says, “the Winter Solstice marks the shortest hours of daylight and the longest hours of darkness.” She spoons a rice ball into her mouth, chews and takes a swallow. “Thereafter, daylight hours gradually become longer. So, this celebration signifies a new beginning, the return of yang and renewed optimism.”

I slurp some soup into my mouth. “Tsssk…the ginger’s a bit too hot.”

“I’m fine with it.” Sabrina’s lips curl in a smile a few molars short of a grin. “Tang yang are round and eaten by family members as part of a reunion feast. A circular shape denotes harmony. Hopefully, there'll be no quarrels among family member after the reunion feast."

“Origin of the tang yuan?”

“Ancient China ... during those bad old days ... many people fell sick and died during winter. One traditional doctor, Zhang Zhongjing—he lived during the Han Dynasty— concocted a prescription of medicinal herbs to be cooked with minced mutton. The ingredients were wrapped in flour dough, boiled and served as soup. After consuming the food, the sick recovered and the healthy didn't fall sick. Tang yuan is, therefore, regarded as an auspicious food, in the same manner as Mandarin oranges during CNY."

I finish my tang yuan and replace the bowl and its lid into the plastic bag.

“In China," Sabrina continues, "there's a tradition of giving shoes and socks to one’s elders on Dongzhi. This gesture is to bless them with longevity.” Sabrina mops her upper lip with her tongue. “But it's no longer observed in Malaysia.” She pushes her empty bowl to me with slender manicured fingers, and I pick it up together with its lid and return them to the plastic bag.

“Thanks for talking with me.” I take my leave with the plastic bag.

Before the office door closes behind me, I hear Sifu Sabrina say, “I wish Chinese readers of your blog Happy Dongzhi!”

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