LIAO YIWU: How do you manage to wail and howl over a stranger?
LI CHANGGENG: I entered the mourning profession at the age of twelve. My teacher forced me to practice the basic suona tunes, as well as to learn how to wail and chant. Having a solid foundation in the basics enables a performer to improvise with ease, and to produce an earth-shattering effect. Our wailing sounds more authentic than that of the children or relatives of the deceased.
Most people who have lost their family members burst into tears and begin wailing upon seeing the body of the deceased. But their wailing doesn’t last. Soon they are overcome with grief. When grief reaches into their hearts, they either suffer from shock or pass out. But for us, once we get into the mood, we control our emotions and improvise with great ease. We can wail as long as is requested. If it’s a grand funeral and the money is good, we do lots of improvisations to please the host.
I left home and came southwest to Sichuan Province at the age of sixteen. Sichuan was a wealthier place than Henan, and people were willing to blow big money on weddings and funerals. I became pretty famous not long after 1 arrived here. This is a profession, like acting in a play or a movie. Once you have started, you gradually grow into the role. In a movie, the actor follows a script. For mourners and wailers, we follow the tunes of the music.
These tunes — “Sending Off the Spirit,” “Pursuing the Spirit,” "Requiem," “Calling the Spirit," “Farewell from Family Members,” “The Ultimate Sorrow,” “Sealing the Coffin,” “Transcending to Heaven," “Burial,” “One Last Look,” “The Searing Pain,” and “Oh I Am So Sad” — have been performed for hundreds of years, passed down from generation to generation. There are specific instructions on where to hit the high notes, or drop to the low notes; where to use a cracked voice, or to be high-pitched; where to wail with the effect of a dry throat, or to cry with tears; and where to tremble your body with great sadness or where to sound like you're losing your voice. It has to be very precise.
LIAO: How long can you wail? What was your record?
LI: Two days and two nights. Normally, once the suona starts the opening tune, all us band members will drop whatever we’re doing and put on our white linen outfits. Then, in unison, we bow to the portraits of the deceased three times, and kowtow nine times. Then we start two rounds of crying, sobbing, and wailing. It sounds pretty chaotic on the surface, but if you take time to observe us from the side for about an hour or so, you will notice that it is a well-orchestrated chaos. For example, when I sob, you wail. It’s like while you’re taking a break, I work the shift. Voices are our capital and we know how to protect them. Not even a loud, searing, heartbreaking wail will damage our voices.
People’s feelings of happiness or anger can be as contagious as a disease, and spread fast. Of course, we recognize that the family members of the deceased are the lead actors. But often, when they're overcome with sadness, their bodies begin to weaken. Before long all the lead actors have to exit the stage. At this time, we, the supporting actors, enter refreshed and warmed up for the role. Frankly speaking, the hired mourners are the ones who can stick to the very end.
