Film highlights Atayal tradition of migration

Builders and actors--the Atayal play both these roles in the film about their cultural legacy. (Courtesy of My Homeland Studio)

By June Tsai

Making a movie can be a form of community empowerment and that is just what the new "Once Upon A Time" has accomplished. Shot in a remote Atayal village in the wilds of northern Taiwan, the community of the indigenous people became both the subject of, and actors in, the film that won a Platinum Remi Award in the ethnic/culture category at the 41st WorldFest Houston International Film Festival in April.

Famous for their face tattooing and weaving, the Atayal --one of Taiwan's 14 indigenous peoples--are spread across the mountain regions in northern, central and eastern Taiwan, a result of the tribe's migrations since the mid-18th century.

Today, the spread of Atayal villages overlaps the borders of modern day Shei-pa National Park and to showcase the indigenous group's life and traditions, the park's administration commissioned the making of a film.

"It all started with making an informational production on the Atayal," said producer Lu Szu-yueh, director of My Homeland Studio--a community empowerment group. "But it ended up larger than anything we expected."

Under sponsorship of the national park headquarters and later backed by a Ford Motor Company Conservation & Environmental Grant, a project team was formed comprising of writer Walis Nokan, filmmakers Chen Wen-pin and Pilin Yapu, members of the Research Centre for Austronesian Peoples under Providence University, Taichung County, as well as Lu's company.

"We decided the Atayal should be engaged in the film about them," Lu explained. "Once Upon A Time" thus became an Atayal-language film by Atayal people on the migration of their tribe.

A traditional settlement was re-created for the film's setting in Cinsbu Village of Jianshih Township, Hsinchu County. Under tribal elders' instruction, more than 400 Atayal residents from Cinsbu and neighboring Hsin-kwan Village participated in constructing traditional Atayal buildings including the chief's house, granary and watchtower.

"Old Atayal housing could not have been created by set designers or an outside construction team, it had to be built by the Atayal," Chen insisted. "The building process is significant for our aboriginal friends, representing the revitalization of their traditional crafts and workmanship."

After finishing construction, the builders became actors in the film that was to tell the story of their ancestors, traditionally believed to have come from Mount Dabajian, one of the highest peaks in Shei-pa National Park.

"Originally, I planned to make a documentary on the Atayal," Chen said. "But following months of field studies in various villages throughout Taiwan, I realized that centuries of migration and mixing with other societies had expanded the tribe's make-up. This meant that the subject matter was now too broad for my original idea, so I switched to a feature film that focuses on one thing that all the Atayal share--the Gaga," Chen said. The Gaga refers to an ancient tale of three brothers setting out to find suitable land for cultivating and hunting. "So we thought we should tell a story about the Gaga, about the tribe's migration, as an essential way of life and a relationship with the nature," he explained.

"Tradition has been broken over the course of history, yet by participating in this film, the Atayal people are rediscovering their past," said Yurow Yukan, an Atayal aborigine who played village chief in the movie and is the only professional actor in the film. "We envisioned and experienced how our ancestors had lived and migrated, and where lies the spirit of the Gaga," he added.

For Chen and his team, the filmmaking process also amounted to an opportunity for improving mutual understanding between aborigines and non-aborigines.

"I found myself rewriting the script and storyline on each day of filming," the director said. "The feelings of the actors on the day of shooting, dreams they had the night before--these could all dictate the storyline of that day. And actually, soliciting their views on many details and incorporating them in the film is the best way of communication and getting things done."

It took the team a lengthy period of two years to complete the 24-minute movie, but more is to come from the project's organizers. Based on the prize-winning film, Chen is now working on a standard feature picking up on the themes of that ancient story of migration. Chen's new offering looks at the Atayal's modern day travels as they seek work away from home, but return to their villages longing to reconnect with their heritage. Pilin Yapu, an independent Atayal filmmaker, is editing another film that documents the whole process of making "Once Upon A Time."

More significantly, on completion of the movie, the recreated traditional settlement became an Atayal-owned property. Cinsbu and Hsin-kwan villagers have formed a committee to manage it while promoting tourism and traditional industries. Some film companies have already expressed interest in renting the site.

"Once Upon A Time" was also selected as Best Film at the New Beijing International Movie Week in June and will be screened at the Moscow International Visual Anthropology Festival in October.

This article first appeared in Taiwan Journal Sep. 4, 2008.

Atayal musician embraces, carries on tradition

Inka Mbing. (Courtesy of Trees Music and Arts)

By June Tsai

When hearing Inka Mbing sing in her native Atayal language for the first time, one is struck by the profound resonance of her voice and wonders where that power comes from. The answer is complex.

Inka is a member of the Atayal people, one of Taiwan's major aboriginal groups, and represents one of the most powerful indigenous voices today. She is presumably the only female aboriginal singer on the island to perform in her native tongue. Her first full-length album "Gaga," released in 2008, features ancient chants as well as the singer-songwriter's own tunes based on the Atayal's traditional beliefs. The album stands as one of the most fruitful musical endeavors of recent years that aim at the preservation of indigenous languages and cultures.

Raised by her grandmother in Jianshih Township, Hsinchu County, Inka grew up listening to the songs of her elders. She left her hometown at the age of 10 to join her parents in Taoyuan, south of Taipei, where the little girl was told she could receive a better education. As a teenager, Inka formed a girls' bands with some friends where she played the bass and sang Western and Chinese pop songs in pubs and restaurants around Taoyuan and Taipei.

Though moving to the city, Inka remained close to her Atayal roots. "I speak the language and remember the old chants passed down by the elders," she said. "I believe it is the "Gaga" that led me away from home and had me go through what I have experienced," the singer mused. "Gaga" is an Atayal word that roughly translates as the "natural order of things in the universe" and represents ancient teachings the Atayal pass on from one generation to the next.

Marriage and raising children kept Inka from developing her musical talent, but her commitment to the indigenous culture brought her back on track, this time with her own music.

The singer became active in Taiwan's aboriginal rights movement in the mid-1980s, when it started to gain momentum along with the democratic development of the nation. But it was the earthquake, which struck the island Sept. 21, 1999, that reawakened Inka's Atayal soul.

As several Atayal communities in the mountains were hit, Inka formed a music group called "Feiyu Yunbao"--meaning "flying fish and clouded leopard"--with other activist-musicians to raise money for their reconstruction. "We helped villagers rebuild their homes and provided comfort by singing and playing music," Inka recalled.

Among the group was Hu De-fu, or Kimbo, the iconic Puyuma singer-activist. "Kimbo sang songs from dawn to dusk. He was singing melodies from his own culture, and I was so touched," Inka noted. Though they were staying at an Atayal village, there was no one to perform in that language, so Inka asked to sing. "People's first reaction was to ask me if I could sing and whether the Atayal had songs," she said.

The Atayal have many tunes, but they are seldom heard. That day, Inka, who people saw only as a housewife, sang out the Gaga, whose tune had been considered almost totally lost. "I had learned it over the years from different tribal elders who helped me piece it together. When I sang the Gaga that day, I saw tears falling from the elders' aged faces," Inka said. They were surprised and moved. That was the first time she sang the holy chant in public.

A few weeks later, Inka and the others arrived at Fasiang Village, Nantou County, which, according to legend, is the Atayal people's place of origin. Near the village stand two huge rocks, which mark the place where village elders normally hold meetings. "A sense of mission ran through me, and I said to the ancestors as though they were present, 'You brought me here, so whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I am your instrument.' I climbed onto one of the rocks and began to sing the Gaga. I sang to the grass below me, to the surrounding nature. I experienced such a surge of energy that I almost felt I was the reincarnation of my ancestors," Inka said.

The spiritual experience enlightened her and led her back to her cultural roots. The singer started collecting traditional melodies and lyrics from old people in various Atayal villages. The effort sometimes involved breaking the community's taboos. "Traditionally, women are not allowed to chant the Gaga. But I felt compelled to sing, and the result is that the Atayal have come to recognize my singing," Inka explained. "The old language was as appealing to me as diamonds to some women, and I wanted to learn and sing more. Fortunately, my voice allows me to sing the way male elders do," she pointed out.

Gender awareness is implicit in her music. "Thinking of Home," for example, depicts the daily life of a young woman who just got married to a poor man from another village. It describes the young wife thinking of her mother and her words of encouragement when feeling down. "Women may look submissive, but are actually stronger than men. They are the source of life's strength," said Inka, the mother of two adult daughters.

Another song from the album titled "The Tribe in Heaven" tells about a handicapped aboriginal woman from the perspective of her daughter. According to the singer, the song, whose lyrics are set to a traditional Atayal melody, reflects her thoughts about life. "I endlessly roam about this world, feeling hurt and frustrated. I want to reach the tribe in heaven, where there is no pain and sorrow. I won't return from there but try to purify my mind and soul, to reach that origin of all beings, the creator of the world."

Inka believes the Atayal are people with a strong spirituality. "As a woman, I always feel connected to that spirituality, which I try to work into music and convey to a larger audience, beyond tribes or even society." "Protecting the Creek" and "Friends of the Mountain People" are good examples of the singer's beliefs. Both songs are adapted from old folk tunes with lyrics written by Inka, and are imbued with the songwriter's observation of today's problems. They urge people, indigenous and non-indigenous alike, to try to keep an ecological balance between men and nature, in accordance with the Atayal's philosophy. The songs are messages to the contemporary world, which Inka described as being "emptied" by greed and excessive consumption.

The 54-year-old musician argued that materialism and consumerism are leading young Atayal away from the Gaga. "We were more connected to the spirit of our ancestors in ancient times, but not anymore because the world has become far too complicated, and we have only limited, if any, access to the Gaga today," she said. "But if you look inward long enough, discovering yourself, you will know what to do and how to do it right. I gave myself entirely to that spirit, the Atayal Creator. It helps me sing and play music the way I do. I am just a vessel for those old melodies and the messages they convey."

In addition to making music and collecting traditional tunes, Inka also teaches the Atayal language to the next generation. She argues that the best way is through music. ¡§I guide children to incorporate what they see and feel into songs, so that they develop a love for their hometown and an intimacy with the language. I hope children will say one day with pride, 'This is a song my forefathers wrote.'"

"The Creator has given me this task, and the wisdom, to pass on our traditions to the posterity, knowing I'm willing to do so," the musician said, noting that tradition is the source of her work. "It is always renewing and teaching something timely to the world. So I am not afraid of running out of inspiration," she said, adding laughingly, "My next albums will probably also be titled 'Gaga,' for everything is Gaga."

This article is published in Taiwan Journal April 3, 2009.

Controversial films bring Kinmen to life

Trees grow in an uninhabited house of southern Chinese style—a typical scene in Kinmen, as shown in Dong Cheng-liang’s “Songs of Kinmen.” (Courtesy of Firefly Image Company)

By June Tsai

For many, Kinmen is the final battlefield of the Chinese Civil War and an anti-Communist stronghold of the Cold War. In the last decade, this outlying archipelago, just a few kilometers away from Xiamen in mainland China’s Fujian Province, was opened up as a busy post for cross-strait links. Taiwanese tourists appreciate Kinmen for its unspoiled nature and simple life, as a county whose residents receive an enviable welfare package, and for the famous Kinmen liquor.

Yet how do the people of Kinmen see their own islands?

Obsolete bunkers, deserted historic sites, empty streets and yellow furrows under the feet of gnarled old farmers—these are some of the scenes that appear in the documentary film, “Songs of Kinmen,” by Kinmen-born director Dong Cheng-liang. As seen through Dong’s lens, they are not meant to be exotic. Rather, the islands are revealed not only in the context of their battle-strewn history, but also in the politics that have decisively affected their society.

“Songs of Kinmen” is part of Dong’s “1949 Trilogy,” which deals with the veteran director’s one and only subject, Kinmen. The series marks the 60th anniversary of the decisive year in which the People’s Republic of China was established on the mainland and the Republic of China government officially moved to Taiwan. That year, the Kinmen Defense Command was set up in the islands and began its long period of heavy militarization.

Although general hostilities in the civil war ended, artillery shelling continued in Kinmen from 1958 to 1977, with the People’s Liberation Army barraging Kinmen on odd-numbered days while the Nationalist army fired back on even-numbered ones to avoid really getting into a war.

The thunder of heavy artillery is thus an ineradicable memory for many Kinmen residents. So are the patriotic songs from both camps—the theme of “Songs of Kinmen”—with which residents were also continually bombarded through loudspeakers.

The documentary intermingles songs, the only audible element in the film, with visual attention to the island’s characteristic scenes—old buildings in the Southern Chinese architectural style, political slogans inscribed on fortifications and tunnels, sorghum and vegetable fields, beach minefields and soldiers’ cemeteries.

Tunes praising “Chairman Mao” and the rising red sun in the East, and melodic celebrations of the heroism of ROC soldiers and the brilliant leadership of “President Chiang” run alternately throughout the film, fiery-spirited or heart-melting. However, they are made ironic by the speechless human subjects and landscapes appearing before the viewer’s eyes.

“We were brought up virtually forced to listen to patriotic songs from both sides, and there was no way to avoid them,” the 48-year-old Dong said after the film was screened in the ROC Control Yuan in December. “With this documentary, I would like to give a voice to those who must always bear the brunt of changes in cross-strait politics.”

Indeed, Dong has been speaking up for the people of Kinmen for over 20 years. His critical examinations of problems arising from Kinmen’s position in history and his concentrated views of every inch of his home territory are his trademarks.

The movie aficionado got his first video equipment in Taiwan at a time when Kinmen residents were prohibited from even owning a radio. His film projects in the 1990s contributed to the lifting of the ban. Later, thanks to collective campaigns by Kinmen people based on Taiwan proper, in which Dong played a major role, the military control of the island was replaced by an elected civilian government in 1992, five years after the ending of martial law on Taiwan and Penghu. The demilitarized islands were made into a national park and tourism was allowed.

Beginning in the new century, Kinmen underwent another twist of fate: it became Taiwan’s frontline for test runs of postal, transportation and trade links with mainland China.

Has Kinmen’s liberation helped bring about prosperity and better living conditions? The independent director’s answer is polemic. In “Golden Liquor,” Dong portrays Kinmen as a fat but spiritually barren county. The 75-minute documentary delves into political and social problems behind the seemingly prosperous business of the world-renowned Kinmen Kaoliang.

A local family led by Yeh Hwa-chen first produced the strong distilled liquor in 1950. In 1953, the military enlisted Yeh’s help and skill to produce the beverage on a larger scale. The distillery later became a government monopoly. Its products rose to international fame and won a brand name for Kinmen. Today the Kinmen Kaoliang Liquor Inc., with two factories, boasts an annual turnover of NT$11 billion (US$344.6 million).

For Dong, behind this shining number is a culture driven by greed. In the beginning of the film, an announcer speaks through a village office loudspeaker urging people to buy the liquor. As the film goes on, one comes to learn that the Kinmen County Government’s social welfare policies include allowing each registered county resident to buy liquor regularly at a low price and legally resell it at a higher price. From officials to teachers and taxi drivers—everyone shares in the practice.

“Year by year, each household has stockpiled a rich hoard of the liquor, which they plan to sell. Some have such a large stock that they have turned former air-raid shelters into wine cellars,” Dong said. This is particularly sad in contrast to the lack of development in the island’s economy and cultural life. “With the profits from the direct sale of the liquor, we could have rounded up the island’s heritage sites into a world attraction. Instead, those in power only know how to buy voters’ support by giving out liquor vouchers and most people are intoxicated,” he lamented.

Moreover, the opening of links with the mainland seems only to have contributed to the outflow of people and economy to the other side. “There has been real urban development in Xiamen, while in Kinmen, the streets have become emptier than ever before,” Dong observed.

His disappointment demonstrates itself in the third film of the trilogy, “My Testament,” featuring Jincheng Township’s Gugang Lake. One man’s narration about a childhood spent mostly playing and working around and in the lake goes with scenes of empty surroundings or historically irrelevant renovations—a sense of despair oozes from the film.

Dong’s critical views are of course repellent to some ears. After showing “Songs of Kinmen” to the county’s descendents in Taipei, for example, Dong was advised to forget about the past, look to the future and make films showing a brighter side to the islands. And following the premiere of “Golden Liquor” in Kinmen last October, Dong even received phone threats demanding he stop future screenings.

For still others, however, the director is a gem for being so outspoken in addressing the inconvenient truth. “I appreciate his critical perspective, which is actually out of love for home,” said Kinmen-born Janice Tsai, owner of a Taipei-based bookstore. “Having grown up in the same repressed environment, I know how difficult it is to do a creative and relevant job.”

His artistic efforts have drawn the government’s attention to the hitherto marginalized island group’s potential to become a world heritage site. There are also ideas to make a museum of the whole archipelago, with its 1,400 years of history. One of the main draws would be the rare meeting of southern Chinese culture and war in these islands.

Dong knows that without the enlightenment of his people, these efforts will be for naught. By making his films and showing them to Kinmen residents, the director wants to awaken his island compatriots, as well as decision-makers, from narrow concerns for personal interests, so they can all work together for Kinmen’s cultural and economic revival.

“We have been looking forward to Kinmen’s development for 20 years. The progress seems too slow,” he said.

This article is published in Taiwan Today Jan. 29, 2010.