Chinese crackers for deadly New Year fireworks

FOR an unapologetic majority of Chinese, life does not get much better than the 15 days of the Lunar New Year, a hallowed gathering of family and friends punctuated by an almost round-the-clock cacophony of percussive, sleep-destroying pyrotechnics.

Banned in most cities until 2006, personal fireworks have become a hard-to-avoid feature of the annual holiday, which ends on Thursday. Last year, the Chinese public spent just over 1.8 billion on Roman candles and bottle rockets, as well as more elaborate devices with whistles, booms and celestial light displays.

"There's something so joyful about all the lights and the noise," said He Jin, 27, a kindergarten teacher, as a paper carton spewed red and green flames near the undercarriage of a parked car. "A New Year without fireworks would be like Christmas without a tree."

Not surprisingly, the spread of fireworks has had a few downsides, and this year may turn out to be a record year for accidents, feeding concerns that the Chinese love of pyrotechnics may have gone too far. In recent days, errant fireworks have killed two people in Beijing, injured 388 others and started 194 blazes, about twice as many as last year, according to the state media.

Across the country the damage to life, limb and property has been no less sobering. During the first 32 hours of the holiday, officials counted nearly 6,000 fires, including one in Shenyang, the capital of Liaoning province, that engulfed the city's tallest structure, a five-star hotel.

In the eastern province of Zhejiang, six people were killed in a forest fire that officials say was sparked by carousing villagers. Officials also suspect that fireworks set off the blaze that blackened parts of a historic town in Chongqing and another that consumed a 1,000-year-old Buddhist temple in Fujian province.

People here still talk about the spectacular fire two years ago, ignited by illegal fireworks, that destroyed the Mandarin Oriental, a luxury hotel whose charred hulk still sits across from the dazzling new headquarters of the state broadcaster, CCTV.

Despite such mayhem the public response has been relatively muted. Red Net, a government-run Web portal in Hunan province, called for a reduction in the potency of fireworks. Hui Liangyu, the vice prime minister of China, urged the nation to be vigilant against forest fires. Perhaps the strongest attack appeared in Beijing News, which stood firm against the return of any restrictive measures but gently counselled readers to ease their fixation on loud and explosive toys.It is hard for outsiders to fully appreciate China's devotion to fireworks, a 12th-century invention the nation proudly claims as its own. The government's attempt to ban them in 1993 was largely ineffective, with the use of illegal fireworks filling emergency rooms and frustrating the police. Five years ago the popular outcry grew too much for the authorities, who agreed to end the restrictions in Beijing and more than 200 other cities.

In addition to longer hours to let them off - 24 hours a day during the first two days of the holiday and from 7am to midnight for the 13 days that follow - increased prosperity has helped fuel a voracious appetite for fireworks. At the Panda factory outlet in central Beijing, local residents packed into the small shop clamouring for the familiar red packs of traditional firecrackers but also for items like the Atomic Reactor, a five-minute display of 100 multicoloured rockets.

"We're making so much money, I have no more room in my pockets," said Li Zhiqiang, one of the salesmen, who bragged that the store brings in 2,800 an hour during Chinese New Year. "Spring Festival would be humdrum and empty without fireworks."

The Chinese tradition of firecrackers reaches back a millennium or so, when, as the story goes, a group of villagers discovered that the ignition of gunpowder chased away Nian, a reptilian predator who was devouring their kin. Today, many people loosely subscribe to the ancient belief that firecrackers scare off nefarious spirits and attract the gods of good luck and fortune.

But during a score of interviews on the perilous streets of the capital last week it became apparent that the main draw was the inexorable rush that came from lighting the fuse, stepping back and assuming a crouching position more commonly associated with incoming mortar fire.

"When you hear that pow and see the flash of light, you feel your blood race," said Yao Zhigang, 47, a technology company worker, before igniting a blue cylinder that looked and sounded like a stick of dynamite. Once his hearing returned, Yao admitted it was a black-market device that could be employed in a coal mine.

Others had a psycho-sociological take on so much sanctioned chaos in a place that is normally kept on a tight leash by its authoritarian leaders. Kuanghan Li, a Beijing resident who has lived in Taiwan, Singapore and New York, said it was worth noting that China was one of the few places that allowed nearly unrestricted use of fireworks during the Lunar New Year.

"Chinese people don't get a lot of recreation time or a lot of opportunities to just be themselves," said Li, a conservation architect and unabashed fan of fireworks. "This is the only chance for them to be totally free and go crazy."