Say shuahuo and few in Beijing will be able to recognize this city term for old Beijing toys. The skilful maohou (furry monkey) and auspicious tuye (Rabbit God) have nearly faded from people's memory. But for Tang Yujie, shuahuo is not just a word but an expression of four generations of family history.
Tang, 47, is the youngest daughter of well-known elder craftsman of Beijing Tang Qiliang whose creations are replicas of toys that date back to the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).
She took over the business from her father a decade ago and is now running the 12 sq m toy store called Tangjing Xuan, or "Studio of Prosperous Tang Dynasty", on Chengxian Street, the only shop in town dedicated to old Beijing toys. A lone life-sized colored Rabbit God standing by the door and an antique wooden plaque with a carved Monkey King hanging under the eaves, signal the slow pace of business.
The shop has many toys made primarily of wool and cotton: Besides the maohou (or monkey) climbing up a tree branch, there are miniature courtyards depicting everyday life, various animals such as tigers, deer and roosters connected by a rope as also the once best-selling "golden horse bearing a gold ingot", which was a traditional icon meant to bring fortune at the beginning of the Lunar New Year.
The story of the maohou goes back to the Qing Dynasty, to a Beijing herbal medicine shop. As the shopkeeper was too frugal to buy toys, his son put together a magnolia bud and cicada shells to make the furry moneky. When the father saw this, he realized its potential to be sold. "The Rabbit God that one sees in this store can now only been seen on television," says Tang.
Holding up a small clay rabbit in her shop, Tang says few young Chinese today know the story of the Rabbit God, who is credited with having saved Beijing from a plague in ancient times.
As per legend, when the city was once threatened by a raging plague, the Chinese moon goddess Chang E sent down her pet rabbit to help end the scourge. The rabbit disguised itself as a maid, and made door-to-door visits to heal the sick. People expressed their gratitude by sending the rabbit clothes.
Clay figures of the Rabbit God usually show it riding a phoenix or in shining armor. Traditionally, on the 15th day of the first month of the Lunar New Year, people would pay their respects by placing fruits in front of these figures.
The shop also has a gold-colored horse with a fur mane, which is traditionally sold in Buddhist temples on the second day of the first month of the Lunar Year and is believed to bring in wealth. But not many Chinese know about these traditional symbols.
The cramped workshop once brought the Tangs, who have been in this business for 160 years, much fame but little profit. Tang Yujie has been struggling to keep her craft afloat in the fierce competition of the toy market. "I would take my creations to many folk art exhibitions, to raise awareness of these old toys," she says.
Wool and cotton toys are no longer popular with parents who give in to kids' demands for Transformers action figures, Lego sets and remote-controlled cars.
It's mostly toy collectors who have shown interest in Tang's skilful workmanship. Liang Zuwang, former general secretary of the Beijing Toy Association and an avid toy collector, says traditional toys still have a role to play in China. He actively seeks out toys like Tang's, and already has more than 1,000 pieces from around the country. He hopes to open a small museum in his home one day to display his collection. "They have to be preserved," Liang says.
Tang is also confident traditional toys will never really die. "Computer games don't develop the imagination," she says. Chinese kites and paper lanterns force the children outdoors, unlike toys that have them sitting in front of a screen or slouched in an armchair.
Each of the toys in her shop, she says, has a story to tell. They are meant not only to delight, but also to teach children about their culture and values. Tang's colorful horses and carriages are steeped in ancient legends of emperors: "Video games don't tell kids anything about history," she says.
Meanwhile, even as Tang's handicrafts have just been counted in Beijing intangible cultural heritage, she is considering putting her toy-making on hold. Tang's father, 91, recently suffered a hip fracture and Tang wants to devote herself full-time to his care.
"People may wonder how I can quit when my craft is almost dying," she says. "But my father's health is of the utmost importance to me now.
"But I hope to be back in business soon," she says.
(China Daily April 14, 2008)