Night sacrifice in Xiaolin. (Courtesy of Alan Tsai)By June Tsai
Once a relatively anonymous village nestled between the plains and mountains of southern Taiwan, Xiaolin was thrust into the international spotlight Aug. 9 after being virtually wiped off the map by Typhoon Morakot, the worst tropical storm to strike the island in 50 years.
Already reeling from the loss of close to 500 residents, many of whom were buried under tons of mud and rubble, the small community now faces an even more dangerous threat: a government-initiated relocation plan that could potentially wipe their plains aboriginal lifestyle off the face of Taiwan’s cultural map.
Under the well-meaning proposal, disaster-affected households in Kaohsiung County’s Namaxia, Taoyuan and Xiaolin townships are to be resettled in new homes constructed on 59 hectares of national land in Shanlin Township. The site was intended for state-run Taiwan Sugar Co., which planned to use it for farming.
The joint project between the government, the Buddhist Compassion Relief Tzu Chi Foundation and Hon Hai Group—Taiwan’s top electronics manufacturing outfit—will see new homes, activity centers and schools constructed for 806 households. The government’s contribution to the project is land, with Tzu Chi responsible for the construction of buildings. Hon Hai is tasked with giving villagers a means to earn a living through establishing organic farms and guaranteeing the purchase of future harvests.
On paper, the idea seems flawless, combining villagers’ needs with a healthy respect for the environment. But as the fog of loss begins to clear from the minds of the victims, many are now thinking clearly and question the plan’s merits. Some have even gone so far as to brand it a hastily patched together hodgepodge that runs roughshod over the ethnicities of survivors and their unique cultural needs.
Alan Tsai, a Xiaolin self-help group spokesman, claims that the proposal forces the Bunun, Tsou and Siraya to live together in an artificial construct. “The Bunun and Tsou peoples traditionally inhabited Namaxia and Taoyuan, upstream of Nanzixian River,” he said. “Further downstream was Xiaolin, where 70 percent of villagers belong to the Siraya tribe.”
Tsai said the plan lumps people from different ethnic backgrounds together in a standardized collective housing complex. “No consideration was made in respect to aboriginal groups’ traditions, ways of life and patterns of social interaction. This could result in the extinction of an irreplaceable aboriginal culture.”
According to local media reports, Tzu Chi wants work on the new homes to get underway as soon as possible and is seeking carte blanche consent from the villagers even before relevant public agencies completed the necessary assessments.
“Villagers are now looking to the government for more reconstruction options and more time to consider how they want to live their lives in future,” Tsai said. “Reconstruction plans should be tailored to the different aboriginal communities and their collective knowledge needs to be solicited.”
Tsai warns that without careful deliberation and the participation of survivors in resettlement discussions, “we could miss the opportunity to preserve a unique cultural legacy, which once lost, can never be bought back."
For Xiaolin’s Siraya aboriginals, the loss of the village has serious ramifications for indigenous peoples’ cultural diversity. “There is no doubt that the tragedy dealt a major blow to the country’s Siraya culture,” said Duan Hong-kun, a Sirayan descendent and anthropologist. To fortify the Siraya culture, Duan and other scholars are committed to monitoring the reconstruction process for Xiaolin’s survivors.
The community contained within Xiaolin was considered by aboriginal researchers and scholars to be the best example of Siraya culture on the island. The Kaohsiung County Government set up Taiwan’s first Siraya museum at Xiaolin Elementary School in 1996. But that facility, along with the school, has disappeared forever. Similarly claimed by the raging muddy torrents were the temple, meeting square and a host of cultural materials.
The establishment of the temple and museum in the village saw a revival of traditional festivals, many of which were performed on an annual basis. Most notable is the ancestor spirit worshipping rites scheduled for the 15th day of the ninth month on the lunar calendar.
On the surface, the Xiaolin tragedy may seem like an isolated one, but for the Siraya, it is another sad chapter in a tale of seemingly constant displacement. Originally dwelling in the plains of Tainan, they were uprooted from their homes and used as auxiliaries to protect Japanese police and Han Chinese working in the camphor-growing industry from attacks staged by other aboriginal tribes. Following a failed anti-Japanese uprising more than 90 years ago, the Siraya were relocated to the Nanzixian River valley.
Duan said that exposure to more dominant Japanese and Han Chinese cultures forced the Siraya to suppress their cultural identity. The remote Xiaolin, being closer to the communities of mountain aborigines, became a bastion of tribal culture.
With the movement for aboriginal rights surfacing during the 1980s, the Siraya also fought to have their identity recognized. But unlike Taiwan’s 14 mountain aboriginal groups, the government has still not yet officially recognized them, despite 10 years of effort.
Having no official status means being denied the legal rights of an indigenous people. This has become a critical issue in post-typhoon reconstruction and forced the Xiaolin people to organize a self-help group to communicate with the public sector.
For the time being, 170 Xiaolin households agreed to relocate to Shanlin, while 74 would move to Wulipu, south of Xiaolin. In Wulipu, villagers worked with anthropologists and the Red Cross Society of the ROC in designing their new homes. In Shanlin, on the other hand, Xiaolin survivors are having a difficult time convincing Tzu Chi and the government to include them in the reconstruction process.
“Xiaolin’s Siraya beliefs and culture should be the center of any reconstruction plan,” Duan said. Echoing this position, Tsai added that the No. 1 priority should be preserving the architectural characteristics of Siraya homes.
“There must be separate spaces for different aboriginal groups. We also want the surviving villagers to participate in constructing their future homes rather than letting construction companies do the job.” He said that many Xiaolin villagers were experienced construction workers.
“The new community should also be named Xiaolin, not Da Ai,” Tsai said. “Da Ai,” means “big love” and is the nameTzu Chi uses for housing complexes it has built for victims of natural disasters all over the world.
Though not a Siraya, Tsai said he was raised in Xiaolin and the local aboriginal culture and tradition is a part of his life. “Reconstruction should involve more than physical construction. It is about rebuilding culture and community spirit.”
This article is published in Taiwan Today Oct. 9.
Once a relatively anonymous village nestled between the plains and mountains of southern Taiwan, Xiaolin was thrust into the international spotlight Aug. 9 after being virtually wiped off the map by Typhoon Morakot, the worst tropical storm to strike the island in 50 years.
Already reeling from the loss of close to 500 residents, many of whom were buried under tons of mud and rubble, the small community now faces an even more dangerous threat: a government-initiated relocation plan that could potentially wipe their plains aboriginal lifestyle off the face of Taiwan’s cultural map.
Under the well-meaning proposal, disaster-affected households in Kaohsiung County’s Namaxia, Taoyuan and Xiaolin townships are to be resettled in new homes constructed on 59 hectares of national land in Shanlin Township. The site was intended for state-run Taiwan Sugar Co., which planned to use it for farming.
The joint project between the government, the Buddhist Compassion Relief Tzu Chi Foundation and Hon Hai Group—Taiwan’s top electronics manufacturing outfit—will see new homes, activity centers and schools constructed for 806 households. The government’s contribution to the project is land, with Tzu Chi responsible for the construction of buildings. Hon Hai is tasked with giving villagers a means to earn a living through establishing organic farms and guaranteeing the purchase of future harvests.
On paper, the idea seems flawless, combining villagers’ needs with a healthy respect for the environment. But as the fog of loss begins to clear from the minds of the victims, many are now thinking clearly and question the plan’s merits. Some have even gone so far as to brand it a hastily patched together hodgepodge that runs roughshod over the ethnicities of survivors and their unique cultural needs.
Alan Tsai, a Xiaolin self-help group spokesman, claims that the proposal forces the Bunun, Tsou and Siraya to live together in an artificial construct. “The Bunun and Tsou peoples traditionally inhabited Namaxia and Taoyuan, upstream of Nanzixian River,” he said. “Further downstream was Xiaolin, where 70 percent of villagers belong to the Siraya tribe.”
Tsai said the plan lumps people from different ethnic backgrounds together in a standardized collective housing complex. “No consideration was made in respect to aboriginal groups’ traditions, ways of life and patterns of social interaction. This could result in the extinction of an irreplaceable aboriginal culture.”
According to local media reports, Tzu Chi wants work on the new homes to get underway as soon as possible and is seeking carte blanche consent from the villagers even before relevant public agencies completed the necessary assessments.
“Villagers are now looking to the government for more reconstruction options and more time to consider how they want to live their lives in future,” Tsai said. “Reconstruction plans should be tailored to the different aboriginal communities and their collective knowledge needs to be solicited.”
Tsai warns that without careful deliberation and the participation of survivors in resettlement discussions, “we could miss the opportunity to preserve a unique cultural legacy, which once lost, can never be bought back."
For Xiaolin’s Siraya aboriginals, the loss of the village has serious ramifications for indigenous peoples’ cultural diversity. “There is no doubt that the tragedy dealt a major blow to the country’s Siraya culture,” said Duan Hong-kun, a Sirayan descendent and anthropologist. To fortify the Siraya culture, Duan and other scholars are committed to monitoring the reconstruction process for Xiaolin’s survivors.
The community contained within Xiaolin was considered by aboriginal researchers and scholars to be the best example of Siraya culture on the island. The Kaohsiung County Government set up Taiwan’s first Siraya museum at Xiaolin Elementary School in 1996. But that facility, along with the school, has disappeared forever. Similarly claimed by the raging muddy torrents were the temple, meeting square and a host of cultural materials.
The establishment of the temple and museum in the village saw a revival of traditional festivals, many of which were performed on an annual basis. Most notable is the ancestor spirit worshipping rites scheduled for the 15th day of the ninth month on the lunar calendar.
On the surface, the Xiaolin tragedy may seem like an isolated one, but for the Siraya, it is another sad chapter in a tale of seemingly constant displacement. Originally dwelling in the plains of Tainan, they were uprooted from their homes and used as auxiliaries to protect Japanese police and Han Chinese working in the camphor-growing industry from attacks staged by other aboriginal tribes. Following a failed anti-Japanese uprising more than 90 years ago, the Siraya were relocated to the Nanzixian River valley.
Duan said that exposure to more dominant Japanese and Han Chinese cultures forced the Siraya to suppress their cultural identity. The remote Xiaolin, being closer to the communities of mountain aborigines, became a bastion of tribal culture.
With the movement for aboriginal rights surfacing during the 1980s, the Siraya also fought to have their identity recognized. But unlike Taiwan’s 14 mountain aboriginal groups, the government has still not yet officially recognized them, despite 10 years of effort.
Having no official status means being denied the legal rights of an indigenous people. This has become a critical issue in post-typhoon reconstruction and forced the Xiaolin people to organize a self-help group to communicate with the public sector.
For the time being, 170 Xiaolin households agreed to relocate to Shanlin, while 74 would move to Wulipu, south of Xiaolin. In Wulipu, villagers worked with anthropologists and the Red Cross Society of the ROC in designing their new homes. In Shanlin, on the other hand, Xiaolin survivors are having a difficult time convincing Tzu Chi and the government to include them in the reconstruction process.
“Xiaolin’s Siraya beliefs and culture should be the center of any reconstruction plan,” Duan said. Echoing this position, Tsai added that the No. 1 priority should be preserving the architectural characteristics of Siraya homes.
“There must be separate spaces for different aboriginal groups. We also want the surviving villagers to participate in constructing their future homes rather than letting construction companies do the job.” He said that many Xiaolin villagers were experienced construction workers.
“The new community should also be named Xiaolin, not Da Ai,” Tsai said. “Da Ai,” means “big love” and is the nameTzu Chi uses for housing complexes it has built for victims of natural disasters all over the world.
Though not a Siraya, Tsai said he was raised in Xiaolin and the local aboriginal culture and tradition is a part of his life. “Reconstruction should involve more than physical construction. It is about rebuilding culture and community spirit.”
This article is published in Taiwan Today Oct. 9.
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