FEBRUARY 3 — Last week I saw something I never imagined I’d see.
It was the “head” of a dancing lion checking his phone while waiting for the fireworks to begin.
The lion had just finished peeling the mandarin oranges and was sitting down to let a member of that particular household do the ritual “good luck patting” of his head.
As this entire segment took about 10 minutes, I noticed (by seeing through the cloth) that the head-guy was scrolling his phone while taking a break.
How about that? It wasn’t unlike the average motorist checking his phone while waiting for the lights to turn green.
Even our celestial beasts can’t escape the siren call of Instagram in the midst of dancing to ward off evil spirits.
But that’s not the only way our phones have been integrated into our traditional Chinese New Year festive practices.
These fabulous 15 days are a season when, usually, red packets fly like dragonflies and the clink of mah jong tiles sing become our soundtracks.
But in recent years, there’s a new player at the table, one that doesn’t shuffle tiles but scrolls through feeds.
Yes, I’m talking about that “animal” called social media, that creature comprising Instagram, X, FB, WA, etc. that has easily defeated all the traditional 12 animals of the Chinese zodiac for our attention.
I was privileged to watch a game of mah jong a few days ago. Always loved the camaraderie, the noise, the slamming of the tiles, etc.
But of late something different can be seen. Once upon a time, the focus was on the game, the strategy, the bluff.
Now, between deciding whether to go for pung (!) or kong (!), you’ve got players checking if their latest X post got the likes it deserved.
It’s like picking and throwing the mah jong tiles with one hand and holding your phone with the other, except the phone is winning more attention than the tiles.
One of the older players quite legitimately demanded that everyone put their phones on silent mode!
Because — and using a game example this time — imagine you’re in the middle of a high-stakes card game, the tension thicker than a bowl of Poon Choy, when suddenly... Lose yourself in the music the moment you own it , an annoying Eminem announces an incoming call! Duh!
The moment’s messed up like a Chinatown gambling den being raided by Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan.
The game’s lost its rhythm and soul to the digital spawn of Zuckerberg.
And let’s not kid ourselves; it’s not just the young ones.
Aunts and uncles, once held in awe for their godlike mah jong prowess, are now more likely to be seen swiping through reels than strategising how to best exploit their panda and bamboo tiles.
But here’s the twist in the tale: social media hasn’t just hijacked our attention, it’s also reshaping our traditions.
Finally, because of social media, there’s a new kind of celebration where every win, every clever move, every face, every cup of orange juice or Coke near the games table is broadcast online. It’s like adding a digital dragon dance to the festivities.
Maybe I’m just old-fashioned but I kind of think the real magic of Cho Tai Tee or mah jong or whatever is in the shared moments, the eye contact, the reading of faces, even the discussion of the best places to get Cantonese Fried Kuey Teow — not the mediated pixelated “applause” of likes and shares.
That’s about as weird as a dancing lion pausing to check his TikTok.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
