A river runs through it

It is easy to forget that the Keelung River flows through Taipei city, hidden as it is by high dikes. These dikes are supposed to protect the city from floods, but they also cut the city's residents off from what was once the focal point of the city's existence. For the fishermen of Sanjiaotu (三腳渡), or Sa-ka-to in Hokkien, ties with the river remain strong. For over 60 years they have made their living on the river bank, and silting, pollution and flooding have done little to loosen their bond.

"They cannot be cut off from this place," said Tseng Wen-ban (曾文邦), a photographer who has spent the last 12 years documenting the lives of this tiny community.

Although they no longer live by the river, they still gather on its banks outside the dike, where their boats are moored and they have built simple sheds and planted shade trees under which they can sit and chat. Occasionally they still go out on the water, but there is little in the Keelung River that can bring them much income. Their presence at Sanjiaotu is simply a continuation of a style of life they see little need to abandon.

The Taipei City Government has now taken notice of this until now unregarded community, largely through Tseng's efforts, for whom the setting up of the Sanjiaotu Riverside Arts Festival (三腳渡親水藝術節) has been a long cherished dream. The name itself -- which means "three-legged crossing," is redolent of an irrecoverable history, when this patch of ground was a transport hub between Chiantan (劍潭), Luchou (蘆洲) and Talungtung

"Over the decades we have built Taipei city with an eye only to utility," said Lung Ying-tai (龍應台), chief of Taipei's Bureau of Cultural Affairs. "An event such as this is a chance to rediscover a river." Lung pointed out that there is only so much that development projects can accomplish. She suggested that only by bringing people back to the river, helping them rediscover their relationship with it, can the river be integrated back into the life of the city.

"This area [Sanjiaotu] is unique in that it combines the river and a living culture," Tseng said. "The local fishermen have taken a hand in this project with great enthusiasm." They will be taking out their boats on the river using just sails and oars for the first time in 30 years during this event.

Chou Yi (周益), a hardy 60 year-old, set up a sail with practiced dexterity despite the long time he has relied on an outboard motor to power his boat. "It is the sort of thing you don't forget," he said. Working the sail, his boat slid silently out of the little riverside harbor, maneuvered with great skill. But 10 minutes later, he powered up the motor and drove himself back.

Other details of how things were done "back then" give rise to discussion as the fishermen help with preparations for the event, arguing about how they had set up the boats before the days of motorized transport. Setting up a rack for drying their nets, the fishermen used the material closest at hand, broken bamboo that may well be been part of the flotsam of typhoon Xangsane, which has left its muddy footprints over much of Sanjiaotu.

Mud, or rather silt, and garbage, have been factors in the demise of Taipei's river culture. At low tide, sections of the river are impassible to even the shallow draft sampans used by the fishermen, and even on the airy river banks, the stench of putrescence is unmistakable.