For a lot of Chinese kids, the Lunar New Year celebrations represent their initiation into the world of gambling. We start out small, with wagers of 10 sen at games of blackjack played with our special ‘house rules’ that involve double payments for ’5-card dragon’ and ’1-up’ (not the Mario kind).
I started out this way, at age 10. My cousins have started even younger, our games now involve 5-year-olds who ask the older kids for help. And in case you think the dealer is fleecing little kids, most times the dealer (usually an aunt or uncle) gives up after a dozen rounds because the kids have cleaned up.
I’m not huge on gambling myself, the sums are too small to interest me in anything beyond playing to pass the time. My sister, with a larger appetite for risk, plays all the games and bets large amounts. But for us, this is as far as the gambling goes.
Other Chinese kids take it further and learn mahjong and ‘dai dee’ or Big 2, which are adult games with adult sums to be won. For impromptu ‘gian’ sessions among friends, these are the top choices. They’re more interesting than the kiddie games because they rely more on skill than luck. Plus then, one can boast about the time ‘I cleaned out so-and-so at the table’.
There are still other avenues to strike it rich, one of which my uncle illustrated richly when he switched on the infotext channel on the telly to check the Magnum and Big Sweep numbers. The Malaysian equivalent of Singapore Pools, the numbers game is the one that engenders the most superstition among an already superstitious people. And this is the game that holds zero appeal for me, since it’s totally random and is out of anyone’s control (unless you can hack the computer that chooses the numbers).
When I go to the supermarket and see a long queue of people at the lottery counter, I feel a great sense of sadness. I’m not judging these people – I know that most of them are just hoping for that one chance to change their lives, and that hope keeps going week after week. Nothing wrong with hoping.
No, what makes me sad is that we’ve managed to put a price on hope, and sell it to people at a dollar per slip. Profiting from people’s hopes – is this as close as it gets to sucking out their souls? If you survey the people in the queue, you’ll see that most of them come from the working class. They don’t have the opportunities that the white-collar workers and elite have, to advance themselves. It’s not that they’re too lazy to work for it. Hard work can only take you so far.
That’s the real business of casinos and other gambling avenues. They sell hope. And when hope turns to desperation, life savings and loan sharks’ money will be wagered on one last roll of the dice. And when desperation turns to despair… all we can do is shake our heads and say ‘tsk’. Which is really easy to do, if you’re not so low on hope that you have to buy it from the corner store.