Mr Hong Liren, for nearly six decades an active member of a langjun (nanguan appreciation) society in Manila, takes a phone call from overseas: a Taiwanese reporter wants to visit and do some interviews. Though a complete stranger to the society, the reporter, by virtue of being interested in nanguan music, is immediately regarded as a "nanguan person." Hong enthusiastically welcomes the idea of the visit and declares, with vigorous thump to his chest: "You just get yourselves over here and we'll take care of board and lodging for you!" Such is the tradition of open-handedness among the Filipino nanguan community.

Music scores and a family tree

The area around Ongpin Street is Manila's Chinatown, where the roads are lined with Chinese-style bakeries, art shops, jewellers and restaurants. Fruit vendors and little girls peddling garlands of jasmine stand or sit at the roadside, while pedicabs and horse-drawn carriages carrying locals and tourists weave cleverly through the narrow lanes. There's an exotic aroma in the air, a combination of tropical fruit, flower scent and horse manure, and a jumble of different languages-English, Minnan, Filipino dialects-assails your ears. All of a sudden you are drawn to a halt by the sound, which wafts down from an upper story, of a pipa being plucked, along with resonant, melancholy singing. For a moment it is as if you have stepped back several centuries in time. . . .

There were already some 40 Chinese people living in Manila by the time the Spanish first set foot in the Philippines in the 16th century. Throughout the following four centuries of Spanish colonial rule, however, the Chinese were third-class citizens, below the Filipinos, and always regarded as temporary visitors. The Spanish needed Chinese merchants and craftsmen for the sake of the colony's prosperity, but also feared Chinese economic control of the archipelago. The colonial government therefore expelled and massacred the Chinese on six occasions, and kept them segregated in designated zones.

By the middle of the Qing dynasty (1644-1911) the rot had begun to set in at the Chinese court, and wave after wave of people from the Minnan (or Southern Fujian) coastal belt of China set out across the South China Sea in search of a better life. One of those who decided to get away was a youth from Jinjiang in Fujian Province called Chen Jin'ge, also known as Ah-Jin. It was in the early years of the 19th century that Ah-Jin arrived in the Philippines, bearing a record of his clan genealogy, some nanguan scores representing the music of his home region, and his musical instruments. He managed to set up his own bamboo-weaving factory, and made frequent trips on business to the official trading ports. The smart and enterprising lad was soon taken in as the adopted son of an important Spanish official, who later became governor of Manila, and the name "Chen Jin'ge" eventually came to be known far and wide.

Being far from home, the overseas Chinese had countless problems to deal with in their day-to-day lives. As night fell, Chinese workers generally gathered at the bamboo-weaving factory to sing songs of sorrow and play nanguan on simple instruments, remembering their parents, wives and children back home. Ah-Jin, who liked nanguan and enjoyed relatively high status, had an idea: since the Spanish wouldn't allow the Chinese to form associations, he applied to set up a group nominally for the purpose of playing music. This was in 1820, 180 years ago, and it led to the establishment of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association.

Not long before Ah-Jin's application to found a music society, another group of Chinese packers and porters began getting together under cover of darkness to play music. Hailing from a common locale in China, these men found solace and support in their music, and so named their group the "Kim Lan" (bond of friendship) Association. Li Hsiu-chin, a professor in the traditional arts research center at the National Taiwan College of Arts, who spent three years in the Philippines carrying out research into folk music, says: "Both the Kim Lan Musical Association and the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association, the two earliest langjun societies, were in effect secret societies for the Chinese in the Philippines." The early Chinese used these groups to rally their strength and assist their brethren. As to the actual playing of nanguan music, this was by no means something all the members could do.

Time and money

In the Philippines, historical factors and economic clout made langjun societies the equivalent of today's Rotary Clubs, popular particularly with those who had money to spare and time on their hands. Quotes Guo Jinding, chairman of the Kim Lan Musical Association: "Three fields-worth of land is what it cost before you could even get a single note out of the dongxiao." In other words, joining a langjun society meant opening up your pocketbook.

Today there are 14 langjun societies in the Philippines, among which the Manila-based groups have traditionally been the most influential and active. In addition to the long-established Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association and Kim Lan Musical Association, Manila also has the Koc Hong Cultural Association, set up in 1934, and also used to be the home of the Chong Tek Sia Chinese Musical Club (now closed), which was founded in 1930.

As well as being music appreciation groups, the langjun societies also serve as social organizations for Chinese-Filipinos, with a membership that comprises fund-donating board members along with actual musicians. Naturally, some of the board members themselves have a good command of music, like Hong Liren, who has been with the Koc Hong Cultural Association for close on 60 years. Sitting at the association's premises in Manila, with incense smoke curling ceiling-wards and music rising and falling in the background, Hong talks at leisure about the langjun societies.

The first thing he does on arriving every day is light incense to the "Langjun Lord" and the departed elders of the society. The studio, with its stern invocation to Silence! pasted on the wall, is all but deserted in the early afternoon, and the padauk-wood furniture, intricately inlaid with mother-of-pearl designs, retains a pleasing luster. Hong leads the way through to the neighboring display room and indicates a wall of photographs, saying: "I was the society's fourth chairman, but now I'm first in seniority as my three predecessors have passed away. Their photos are over on the altar by the Langjun Lord. In here, the largest pictures show those who donated P200,000 towards the purchase of the new premises, and the medium-size pictures show those who donated P100,000. There are no photos of those who donated P50,000 or less."

Opening a newspaper to the congratulatory messages on the appointment of a new chairman, gives one an indication of the scale of the society. There are five deputy chairmen, as well as honorary advisors, consultative committee members, permanent advisors, board members, a cultural and educational committee and so on. Total membership is nearly 400, less than 20 of whom are actual singers and musicians. The major task of the chairman is to exert his influence to attract prestigious new members. Naturally, it is the members with official titles at the society who provide the bulk of its funding.

81-year-old Hong Liren, who became chairman at the age of 23 and long since handed over the reins to his successors, says: "Taking part in the 50th and 60th anniversary celebrations of the Koc Hong Cultural Association fulfilled a lifelong ambition of mine, and I donated P100,000 on each of those occasions." Down the decades, Hong has in fact devoted the greater part of his time and money to the Langjun Lord-something which his family is less than delighted about. Hong nevertheless notes with pride: "Maybe I haven't made any money in my lifetime, but I've earned the recognition of everyone in Southeast Asia's nanguan community, including those in mainland China and Taiwan."

The latest chairman, Cai Xilong, in addition to being a successful businessman is well connected in political and commercial circles, and the newspapers carry congratulatory messages to him day after day. A further measure of the Koc Hong Cultural Association's status is that its annual reception is attended by the mayor of Manila. The post of chairman carries prestige in the Chinese community, and also attracts the regard of government figures, who hope for political support from prominent individuals thought to represent the majority of wealthy Chinese in the Philippines.

Luzon visitors

At the end of the 19th century Spain ceded the Philippines to the US in exchange for US$20 million, and Chinese were later allowed to bring their families across to settle in the Philippines. Thus the Chinese, who had always had the status of temporary visitors up till then, at last began to sink permanent roots in the country.

The Americans divided the Chinese into four categories: wholesale and retail merchants, trade workers (such as water-bearers, boatmen and cooks), general laborers, and servants. They also imported the Chinese Exclusion Act from America, banning the entry of Chinese laborers, with the result that most Chinese were restricted to working in commerce. This shaped the subsequent development of Chinese society in the Philippines and the term "Luzon visitors" became a byword for wealthy Chinese. Because of their economic prominence, these nanguan aficionados, who could at least appreciate if not actually play the music, spent heavily to recruit maestros from mainland China to teach the playing and singing of nanguan music. The best known of the maestros was Gao Mingwang, the "Aria Immortal" of nanguan.

Gao, who arrived in the Philippines in 1929, studied nanguan from boyhood and was accomplished in every different school of the art. He had followers throughout the Minnan region and was revered in Fujian and Taiwan for his abilities.

The Second World War brought a Japanese invasion of the Philippines. Recalls Su Zhiyang, executive committee member with the Kim Lan Musical Association: "Time passed in a blur, and you never knew whether you'd be alive or dead the next day. There was no work during the Japanese occupation, and instead people focused all their energies on the langjun societies." After the war the economy took off, and "southern music" associations sprouted like mushrooms. Maestros were brought in from the mainland, scores re-arranged, and anniversary celebrations were mounted at great expense. For a period, there was a vogue for Asia-wide conventions of southern music societies.

In addition to Gao Mingwang, other nanguan maestros recruited by langjun societies in the Philippines included pipa players Wu Pingshui and Lin Yumou, and dongxiao players Chen Erwan and Qiu Chengping, musicians at the very summit of their art. While nanguan musicians in Taiwan were largely limited to playing shorter pieces, or performing the concluding movements from full-length suites, those in the Philippines were capable of giving renditions from the entire 48-suite repertoire of traditional nanguan. In those days, musicians from Taiwan often traveled to the Philippines to seek instruction from the maestros. Among those who studied in this fashion was Chen Mei-o, founder and artistic director of the Han-Tang Yuefu Ensemble, who made nearly 20 visits to the Philippines during the 1970s.

For those Taiwanese who were unable to spend the time in the Philippines, the only option was to wait for one of the langjun societies to visit, and to make the best of their time in Taiwan. Li Shu-huei, who was with the Tainan Conservatory of Southern Music at that time, recalls: "Every single day I went to the hotel where my teachers were staying, to receive instruction. They were here for over a month, and for over a month I followed them everywhere, including down to the south, pestering them to teach me, because it was such a rare opportunity!" Nanguan was also the "go-between" that led to Li marrying Su Zhixiang, a southern-music maniac from the Kim Lan Musical Association in the Philippines.

There is a volume of nanguan scores, used throughout the nanguan community in Taiwan and abroad, entitled A Complete Collection of Scores for Minnan Music, which was compiled over a period of nearly ten years by Liu Honggou, now 92 years old. For his part, Su Zhixiang has published a six-volume collection of simplified scores which form an important resource for anyone researching nanguan music today.

Like-minded souls

Whenever one of the nanguan societies in the Philippines is marking another ten-year anniversary, nanguan groups from the Philippines, Southeast Asia, Taiwan and mainland all gather for the celebration. For the visiting groups, all costs for their stay are borne by the hosts, and sometimes there are even red envelopes containing gifts of money to welcome them on their arrival. "The more such events, and the greater the outlay, the more active the group can be," laughs Hong Liren. For both the 170th anniversary of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association and the 60th anniversary of the Koc Hong Cultural Association, the guests filled over 100 tables, with nanguan followers from the whole region showing up for the celebrations.

In 1977, the first in a series of biannual conventions of southern music groups from Southeast Asia brought together many top talents in the art. Those present at the first event still remember it with excitement. "The first one was held in Singapore," recalls Su Zhixiang, who was appointed secretary-general for the second convention, "and we hosted the second one here in the Philippines. Ding Macheng from Singapore, Chen Liansheng and Hong Liren from the Philippines, Wang Weiqian from Hong Kong, Lin Yongfu from Indonesia, Yang Chaochang from Malaysia and Lin Chang-lun from Taiwan all provided lively, effective leadership at that time, and worked flat out to promote nanguan music." Owing to the traditional generosity of the nanguan community in the Philippines, and its penchant for lavish displays of hospitality, the convention in the Philippines was the only time the host organization covered all expenses-an extraordinary outlay-for other groups attending the one-week event.

Regrettably, these great gatherings of like-minded souls came to an end after 1983. Once the nations of Southeast Asia normalized their relations with the PRC, there were splits in the nanguan community over differences on the China/Taiwan issue, and nanguan began to go into decline in the Philippines.

Not for hire

As Hong Liren continues to reminisce, sometimes wistfully and sometimes with excitement, the afternoon passes by and evening approaches. With the sun still shining brightly into the studio, musicians begin to drift in. To either side the players of the pipa (a plucked string instrument, similar to the ancient Chinese lute), sanxian (a three-stringed plucked instrument), dongxiao (a vertical bamboo flute) and erxian (a two-stringed bowed instrument) are seated on traditional wooden armchairs. The pipa, which gives the lead, provides a rhythmic backbone, while the erxian and dongxiao add flesh to the melody. The instruments draw one another on, and together form an integrated whole. In the middle of the ensemble, the main singer, seated bolt upright on the edge of the chair, conducts with wooden clappers and sings with a voice that resonates from the diaphragm, making sure to carefully enunciate every sound of every syllable. Though sharply modulated, the singing is also deeply melodious.

Explains Chou Yi-chang, head of the Jiangzhicui Nanguan Ensemble: "Nanguan music is exquisitely precise, and requires a form of dialogue among the musicians. No matter what instrument you are on you must also know how to play the other three, in order to have the necessary rapport with the other musicians."

Nanguan is not geared for public performance per se, and given the exalted status of the art-aficionados boast about the role of nanguan in the royal court of the Qing dynasty-along with the continued assertion of class-based distinctions between gentry and merchants, there remain a number of taboos and conventions within the discipline. The custom of which they are most proud, according to Hong Liren, is that "langjun followers do not take commissions to perform."

This means that even though nanguan music is used for nanguan opera, music created specifically for performance has absolutely no part in the repertoire of the langjun societies, and opera musicians were once even excluded from society membership. If a musician from a langjun society ever played with an opera troupe he was ridiculed for "demeaning" himself.

Chinese-Filipinos do enjoy opera, however, and impresarios have in the past come to Taiwan to recruit actors capable of singing nanguan, to give shows in the Philippines. In this way, a number of the older generation of gezaixi (Taiwanese opera) actors, including Liao Chiung-chih and Tang Mei-yun, came to perform nanguan opera in the Philippines.

One such tour was arranged by Taiwan's Nansheng society, a relatively reform-minded group at that time. The group's chairman Lin Chang-lun and the Filipino nanguan artiste Li Xiangshi gathered together a group of "young ladies from good homes" to perform nanguan opera in the Philippines. Tsai Hsiao-yueh, Wu Su-hsia and Chen Mei-o, illustrious names on today's nanguan scene, were themselves members of that touring company.

Peaking, then declining

Since the start of the 1980s, and with the normalization of relations between the Philippines and mainland China, the langjun societies have split into "left" and "right" factions. The groups no longer make joint trips overseas, and hold fewer activities at home. The golden days of the 20:1 exchange rate between the Philippine peso and the NT dollar have passed, and the langjun societies no longer wield much economic clout. Furthermore, many of the older maestros have passed away, and the societies cannot attract new musicians now that the younger generation has little interest in nanguan.

Su Shiyong, who was recruited from the mainland to teach at the Koc Hong Cultural Association, says: "Things have really gone downhill in the last ten years." When she arrived in early 1987, there were still ten performing musicians in the association, "but now there are only two left: one is me and the other is a Chinese-Filipino dongxiao player." The good old days of big attendances and crowds of patrons are now just a memory.

Among the three langjun societies still active in Manila today, almost all of their permanent musicians have been recruited from the mainland. In line with tradition, the weekly "jam" is a time for the musicians in a group to meet and play together. However, from Monday to Friday, it's always the same players that you see, whether you go to Koc Hong Cultural Association, Kim Lan Musical Association or Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association. Says Su Shiyong with a wry smile: "It's already reached the stage where there are not enough people for a full practice session in our own association, so we need musicians from all three groups just to make up the numbers."

The dearth of musicians means that there is no longer any taboo on the once "treacherous" behavior of being involved with two societies at once, or on receiving instruction from a master at another society. And it's no longer a matter of concern whether one is a nanguan opera actor or a musician, so long as the will to learn is there. The Koc Hong Cultural Association has even launched a scholarship to encourage young people to participate. After seven years without any pupils, Su Shiyong this year finally found herself with three secondary-school girls to teach, all three being recent immigrants from the mainland.

One of the three, Li Weiwei, who recently moved from Fujian to the Philippines with her whole family, says that she has adjusted well to life in her new country, because at the Chinese-language school she attends more than a dozen of her classmates are also from the mainland. "And there are even more in her class," says Li, indicating one of the other nanguan students. "Over 20 of them, and mostly from Fujian province."

A new wave of nanguan people

In spite of the lack of new musicians, there has been no decline in overall membership of the langjun societies. Li Hsiu-chin feels that the small size of the Chinese community-ethnic Chinese make up less than 2% of the population in the Philippines, the lowest proportion in Southeast Asia-means that there is a special emphasis on participation in Chinese social groupings, with many of the older generation living entirely within their own Minnan community.

On their name-cards, Chinese-Filipinos often list the official titles they hold at seven or eight different societies. It is estimated that there are at least 3,000 Chinese groups of this kind in the Philippines, including hometown clubs, clan associations, chambers of commerce, trade associations, alumni associations and even classmate associations. These societies are often inter-linked. "We have contacts with around 150 or 160 other groups, and every month we receive a stack of invitation cards for their events. We threw away a big pile of cards just yesterday!" says Guo Xipei, formerly secretary at the Koc Hong Cultural Association. This is another factor that enables the langjun societies to survive even as their musical role decreases.

A song of home

Thursday comes around, "jamming" day at the Koc Hong Cultural Association. By four or five in the afternoon, the old Chinese ladies and Filipina helpers have prepared a table of dimsum for musicians from the three societies, who are now drifting in along with their families. The players head for the studio while others start up games of mahjong-one of the most familiar sights at any Chinese social gathering.

Dinner time comes and everyone gathers around three big tables to eat together. Then the mahjong players resume their games and the musicians, taking advantage of today's unusually good turnout, form themselves into a ten-part ensemble, creating a lively, festive mood. Hong Liren tells how the musicians also performed for his 80th birthday celebration last year. In addition to special celebrations, it is customary for langjun musicians to perform at the funerals of society members, and of their parents and wives. For Chinese-Filipinos, it is a special honor to have the funeral cortege escorted by langjun musicians, who in other circumstances are unavailable for hire. Many ethnic Chinese join these societies specifically to obtain this honor for the funerals of their parents, and some stop coming back once their parents have passed away.

"We raise high the golden cup, abrim with liquor/ And make three obeisances, showing the depth of our feelings./ We think again of former times, blessed by the grace of the elders/ And pay our respects to the departed, our hearts all full of tears./ . . . On this day we come in pious worship/ May your soul attain everlasting ease." So sing the performers at a funeral. For those early nanguan players who ventured so bravely out into the wide world, musical scores in hand, it is the plaintive tones of nanguan music itself that bear them home in glory.

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Chinatown in Manila, where horse-drawn carriages shuttle to and fro, and the sound of nanguan music occasionally wafts down from the rooftops. Manila's langjun (nanguan appreciation) societies are mostly concentrated in this area, which is where early Chinese arrivals first settled.

p.113

Nanguan musicians pay great attention to costume and jewellery, and always sit with correct deportment. The elegant and refined tones of nanguan have followed the Minnan people on their migrations throughout Southeast Asia, charting their experiences of weal and woe. (courtesy of Xiangling Music Society)

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Baskets of coal borne through the city on shoulder poles. Chinese immigrants were expelled and massacred six times under the Spanish colonial government, but they continued slaving away in the Philippines in pursuit of a better life. (courtesy of Li Hsiu-chin)

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The Spanish colonialists adopted a policy of "using Chinese to control Chinese." Yang Zunqin of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association was once appointed to the influential position of Capitan over the Chinese. (courtesy of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association)

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Hong Liren (right), who has been with the Koc Hong Cultural Association for nearly 60 years, proudly claims to be well-known throughout the world of nanguan music. To the left is the Association's incoming chairman, Wu Wenxiang.

p.117

As dusk draws in, members of the 180-year-old Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association gather for practice, and the refined strains of nanguan fill the air. Though just outside the window, the hustle and bustle of Chinatown seems a million miles away.

p.121

The Philippines was for a period the driving force in nanguan music, and collections of nanguan scores arranged and compiled by the Kim Lan Musical Association's Liu Honggou (right) and Su Zhixiang (left) can be found everywhere among the nanguan community. In particular, Su re-wrote a large number of ancient scores in a more intelligible form, to help promote nanguan.

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The yellowing membership register and esoteric old scores testify to the historical pedigree of nanguan music.

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The ethnic Chinese, who make up less than 2% of the population in the Philippines, are enthusiastic participants in Chinese social groups. Oath-taking on the assumption of a post on the board is always a lively occasion at the langjun societies.

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The big weekly practice session is a lively occasion that brings together nanguan people and their families to play and listen to music, and to enjoy traditional dishes from their home region.

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The Chinese groups invite one another to all their functions. The result: a big stack of invitation cards every month.

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Taking advantage of an unusually good turnout, the musicians practice in a ten-part ensemble. These days it's a rare opportunity, given the declining state of Southeast Asia's nanguan societies and the shortage of musicians.

Chinatown in Manila, where horse-drawn carriages shuttle to and fro, and the sound of nanguan music occasionally wafts down from the rooftops. Manila's langjun（nanguan appreciation）societies are mostly concentrated in this area, which is where early Chinese arrivals first settled.

Baskets of coal borne through the city on shoulder poles. Chinese immigrants were expelled and massacred six times under the Spanish colonial government, but they continued slaving away in the Philippines in pursuit of a better life. （courtesy of Li Hsiu-chin）

The Spanish colonialists adopted a policy of "using Chinese to control Chinese." Yang Zunqin of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association was once appointed to the influential position of Capitan over the Chinese. （courtesy of the Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association）

Hong Liren （right）, Who has been with the Koc Hong Cultural Association for nearly 60 years, proudly claims to be well-known throughout the world of nanguan music. To the left is the Association's incoming chairman, Wu Wenxiang.

As dusk draws in, members of the 180-year-old Tiong Ho Sia Chinese Music Association gather for practice, and the refined strains of nanguan fill the air. Though just outside the window, the hustle and bustle of Chinatown seems a million miles away.