While working at the
University of Victoria’s Student Union Building, I have met people from all
over the world. I work with folks from China, Japan, Tibet, India, Nigeria,
Jamaica, and Belgium, to name only a few. Though the work environment is
typical of many Western style food courts, I sometimes feel as though I’m
working at the cafeteria section of the United Nations. Needless to say, food
brings people together. In my area of work, I deal with goods and supplies. I
am the official UVic milkman of sorts, but officially the Purchasing Agent’s
assistant. At first, the job was intimidating, but as time went by I found it
easier and easier. One day, I met a very kind Chef named Lum Sang. For whatever
reason, he encouraged everyone to call him Uncle Frank. Reciprocally, he would
always address the male staff by the name Uncle. When I needed help, Uncle
Frank would often come to my assistance. Almost every day I would hear his little
voice calling from down the hallway, “Good morning Uncle Ben, jou sahn, jou sahn”.
Originally from Hong Kong, Uncle Frank immigrated to Canada and started his own
Chinese restaurant. Eventually, he would retire and move to Gordon Head, and
continue work in the culinary arts. One day, as we were talking, I brought up
the topic of religion. When I asked Uncle Frank about his own religious
orientation, he replied “Buddhism”. I
thought to myself, “excellent, I finally have an in for my assignment in
religious studies 200 b”. The next day, Uncle Frank told me to go to a place
where he occasionally visited with his family, a Buddhist temple in downtown
Victoria. I wasn’t exactly sure where this place was. For a while, I wandered around
Victoria’s historic Chinatown, searching for the temple. The Gates of
Harmonious Interest loomed up from behind. I envisioned a festive display of dragons
and lights, and rockets; but it was just my imagination. Seconds passed into
minutes, and I began to wonder what life might have been like for the Chinese
immigrants on their arrival here to Victoria. Life was hard in those days, and
I imagine that for minorities it would have been all the more so. Romance
turned to fiction, and fiction turned to reality. My mind awoke to the distant
sound of an Erhu. While I was inquiring for the temple’s whereabouts, an
elderly Chinese man told me to ask the retail employee of a Chinese gift shop
for directions. I was told to go across the street and enter the building with
the very high staircase. In retrospect, I went with very little knowledge of
what I was getting myself into. I knew that this was a Buddhist temple, and
that my friend, a Cantonese Buddhist, was a devotee to this temple, therefore
it had something to do with some sort of Mahayana tradition within Buddhism. And
so, with neither a guide or translator, I ascended the staircase and made my
way to the top. There was a man at the top of the staircase, watching me as I
went. It was a bit eerie. Perhaps visitors were not allowed at such times, but
I persisted. To be truthful, it was a bit of a bizarre experience. In my experience
of religious sites, there has always been some sort of welcome, and I have
always had someone that I knew who could translate for me. This time was
different though. One might say that it was a cultural misadventure. The man
and I looked at one another for a few seconds; awkwardly I continued up the
staircase. I introduced myself to him, and told him that I was visiting this
place for a religions class. He motioned me to follow him in into the temple. I
was not exactly sure what to expect. I walked into the room, and saw a fine
display of art, traditional fans, various ornaments, and a shrine to who I thought
was the Buddha. It was all quite colourful. I looked around some more. There
was an offering place for the ancestors, I thought this was a bit out of place
for a Buddhist temple, and then I thought about the complexity of religion, and
how religious practices aren’t always clear cut. The more I walked around and
looked at all the Chinese cultural décor, the more I questioned myself about
the nature of this particular religious reality. The temple really was a
beautiful place. The man seemed to be pleased with my smiley reaction, and
pointed for me to put an offering of some money into the ancestor’s box,
however as a broke student, I respectfully declined, and told the man I would
give some money on the next visit. Although this was a bit of a lost
opportunity, but the man seemed content with my decision. And, with that I gave
my thanks and left the building. Down the three story staircase, and into the
heart of Chinatown. Afterwards I strolled down Fisgard street, and ended up in
Fan Tan Alley, where I saw from the corner of my eye a lady from an Open Mic I
had played at. This lady, who I will call Stephanie, was certainly not a
stranger to alternative religions and spirituality, after all, Stephanie spends
part of her time dressing up as a mermaid and busking in downtown Victoria. I
asked Stephanie if she knew anything about the Temple I had just gone to.
Stephanie assured me that it was a Taoist temple, and not a Buddhist Temple.
How strange to hear this, especially after Uncle Frank had told me that this
temple was the Buddhist temple he went to, as a Buddhist. It was getting dark,
and I hurried home. Two weeks later, I told Uncle Frank about my experience. I
had expressed what had happened, and described it in detail to him. I asked him
about the man in the temple, and Uncle Frank replied “Oh, that’s Mr. Leung Pak,
you might see him doing his morning exercise around the ring road. I will tell
him about you. You should go back!”. I still had questions though. After
Religious Studies 200B, I went to my next class, Medieval Studies. We were
discussing courtly love, and my mind wandered back to that scene in the temple.
I then looked up on google, “Chinese Temple Victoria”. Then it all made sense,
this was not a strictly Buddhist or Taoist temple, it was the “The Tam Kung
Temple”, the oldest Chinese Temple in Canada. Astonishing! It is managed by the
Yen Wo Society. The figure in the shrine
who I thought was the Buddha was actually a Chinese weather god. When I asked Uncle Frank about Tam Kung, the Chinese
weather god, he responded by saying “Ah, yes, Tam Kung, a very ancient Chinese
god…”, as though Buddhism and Tam Kung had an integral connection. It is interesting
to think about how our western category of religion influences how we imagine
the world religious traditions to be; in reality, the “religions” of other
cultures are complex, and so us westerners tend to over look these complexities and think
of them as clear cut, black and white, monolithic blocks. In this case, the
Tam Kung temple is a cultural space, but it also reflects a diverse group of
people within the Chinese community. Religion is often best understood when
there is some dialogue, otherwise, I wouldn’t have the slightest clue.
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