The Mysterious Stones of Tai O

The Mysterious Stones of Tai O

Next time you visit Tai O, pay attention to the stones placed in front of the fishermen’s houses. They may not be so obvious at first, but once you start noticing them, you will see more and more. 

You’ll find the stones set against the front wall of older dwellings, the ones made with sheet metal, and occasionally also bricks. Sometimes they are just a round stone with little more than a ribbon around it and traces of past incense offerings in front. At other times, they have full little shrines that shelter them from the rain and the sun, and occasionally more elaborate tributes: a little bowl filled with ash, for the incense sticks, some red and gold pieces of paper stuck to them with glue, or even an entire altar that surrounds them. The most adorned ones have the auspicious four-characters red couplets (or 揮春 fai1 ceon1) on either side, with the usual wishes of good fortune, family unity, prosperity and business success. Some even have offerings of fruit, and of rice wine, poured into little ceramic cups that are regularly filled up. 

And yet, they are just stones. They don’t vary too much in size: they are roughly as big as a pomelo, which is one of the most common offerings given to the stones. (Other than being seen as auspicious because of its rounded form, pomelos symbolises unity and oneness, and their Chinese name, jau2 zi2 (柚子) sounds like jau5 zi2 (有子) or “have children.”) The stones are rounded and oblong, stuck in the ground with little more than concrete, yet taken care of like deities.

If you ask around, people will simply tell you that they represent the Earth God, the same deity which you can see all around Hong Kong. Except that usually the Earth God, Tou Dei, has a proper little red niche, and a red wooden plaque with its name inscribed on it (tou2 dei6 土地, or sometimes tou2 dei6 gung1 土地公). In more elaborate shrines, the Earth God is represented by a little statue of a man in a flowing robe with a long beard and moustache. 

In the Chinese folk pantheon, Tou Dei is one of the most unusual deities: there are very many gods referred to by this name, as they are completely specific to the particular place they are in. It is a common practice for people who need to emigrate, or simply move house, to say goodbye to their previous Tou Dei, as they will then be worshipping and paying tribute to the one they will encounter in their new location; an Earth God’s powers are tied to that specific patch of earth. As such, the legends linked to who became Tou Dei are very site-specific. The stones of Tai O play the same role: they protect the place around them, including the home behind them and its inhabitants. But they require greater abstract imagination to see their divine potential. 

Timmy So, a third-generation Tai O resident, graphic designer and co-owner of Café Solo on Kat Hing Street, is one of the most knowledgeable persons about his community. He explains that the stones represent the desire of fishermen to make it alive back home. “The sea can be very rough here, and as it is getting depleted, fishing boats need to push further and further into the ocean,” he says. “It is a dangerous job.” 

But why stones? So explains that Tai O has never been a wealthy place. “Most people here have always been too poor to afford a proper altar for the Earth God, and even less so a statue. That’s how the tradition of using a stone started. It is a very solid sign, and it represents the place they wish to return to.” In this village of fishermen, they are what people who need to go out at sea to make a living can afford to pray to, asking for protection to ensure that they will come back and not be swallowed by the treacherous waves.

This is a common theme across seafaring communities. Fishing is consistently rated as one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, with more than 100,000 deaths every single year. As a seaside territory, Hong Kong has shown a special attention to those deities that protect from the rage of the ocean, most notably the cult that surrounds the goddess Tin Hau (tin1 hau6 天后), who is worshipped for her ability to protect seafarers. According to legend, she was a quiet and devoted girl living in a fishing family on the coast of Fujian. On a stormy night, her brothers were out at sea on a small boat when the waves became particularly rough. Miraculously, the young girl went into a trance and appeared to her brothers in the stormy sky, leading them to safety. When the brothers came back home, eager to see the sister who had saved her, they found her feverish in bed, recovering from her trance. Tin Hau, who is known in Fujianese or Hokkien communities as Mazu (maa1 zou2 媽祖), is venerated not only in Hong Kong, but all along the southern coast of China and in places where coastal Chinese communities have migrated, most notably Southeast Asia.

Fishermen elsewhere in the world have their own icons meant to protect them. In Christianity, there are seven saints that are considered the protectors of sailors and fishermen. They vary from country: Irish fishing communities worship Saint Brendan, those in Greece pray to Saint Nicholas; the other saints include Saint Christopher, Saint Elmo, Saint Francis of Paola, Saint Phocas and Saint Clement, who is often represented by an anchor. In India, the wives of fishermen worship the god Varuna in the form of a shark fin planted in the sand, which is adorned with flowers. In Japan, one of the seven gods of luck is Ebisu, who was cast out at sea when he was three years old by his mother – and survived this harsh maternal punishment to then protect the men who take to the sea to earn a living. The list could be endless, with local variations and an infinity of deities to which sailors and fishermen ask for protection and safety. 

So, next time you take the time to visit Tai O and taste the giant fish balls, or the other maritime specialities for which this little town is renowned, spare a thought for the hardships that fishermen have to endure to bring their catch ashore, and their constant fear of not being able to make it back alive. As witnessed by the unassuming oblong stones to which they pray and offer incense.