On Feb. 14, I visited Chen Hung (
Chen was my photography teacher in college and later became the editorial writer for the Great China Evening News (
By next month, Chen will have spent two years in bed, unable to move nearly any muscle in his body save a few facial muscles. His condition is similar to that of Jean-Dominique Bauby, former chief editor of French Elle magazine who suffered from "locked-in syndrome" and was able only to blink a single eye. Despite his condition, Bauby managed to dictate an entire book telling his story, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. He died very shortly after the book was published.
PHOTO: GEORGE TSORNG, TAIPEI TIMES
The main difference between Bauby and Chen is in how they dictate their thoughts. Chen uses the Chinese "bo-po-mo-fo" system under which one first spells the consonant, then the vowel and finally chooses a tone for the character. As a result, to phonetically spell one Chinese character, Chen needs to blink at least a dozen times.
He first chooses the row, then column on the board in order to select the phonetic symbol he wants. Two or three phonetic symbols -- plus their tone -- form a character. Two Chinese characters form a noun or a verb. A few words put together form a sentence. It often takes Chen more than 10 minutes to write one short sentence. Where in the past it took him about an hour to write a thousand-word article, it now takes him two or three weeks. The difficulty of the process beggars belief.
Chen was still a little frustrated the few times that he was misunderstood. I told him using photography terminology that if he can slow down the speed with which he blinks his eye -- like a camera's shutter speed from 1/125 second to 1/30 second -- his nurse could see more clearly which character he was indicating. He smiled and blinked his eyes in agreement.
I never thought the story in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly would happen in Taiwan, not to mention to the teacher who introduced me to journalism.
I graduated from college in 1977 and joined the China Times (
I'm very fortunate that I was able to receive the teaching of such a mentor as I entered journalism. I have kept his reminder in my heart and it has been most useful to me. My reminder to young people beginning in the profession today is that "only humility can make a reporter respected."
Chen is a successful businessman. His company produced water heaters that were sold to all parts of Taiwan. In middle age, he liked to shoot pictures in his spare time and participated in the "Chinese Photography Association" chaired by Taiwan's famous photographer Long Chin-san (
Coming from a well-educated family, Chen developed a passion for reading and writing. He wrote articles which appeared in numerous newspapers and magazines. This was during Taiwan's martial law era when the government maintained a tight clamp of censorship on newspapers. As a businessman who did not work for any newspaper, Chen was often able to publish his writings at will, writing and shooting what he wanted. He was often given an entire page for in-depth news analysis. Given the political circumstances of the time, he was truly a rare exception.
As a result of his talents, he became a part-time reporter, photographer and editor at what was then Taiwan's largest evening newspaper.
Besides working part-time at the newspaper, Chen also taught photojournalism on an adjunct basis at various colleges. He also lectured photography associations at many college campuses.
Chen was later recruited by The China Post to work on a part-time basis as the chief editor of a photography magazine published by the newspaper. That magazine made great contributions to the art of photography in Taiwan and in general.
Chen devoted almost all the time he did not spend in his business to photography, news writing, editing, and teaching. As a result, he taught and educated a lot of students and readers, many of whom went on to earn a name for themselves in society. Among Chen's students was now famous photographer Tsai Jung-feng (蔡榮豐), who shot family portraits of former president Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) and the wedding photos of President Chen Shui-bian's (陳水扁) daughter.
In the past 40 years, Chen has written articles on artistic photography and photojournalism, in-depth news stories, commentaries, travel journals, drama reviews and scripts. The broad range of his interests have shown through in his work as a journalist.
Even now, despite being imprisoned in his body, Chen's mind continues to take flight. "In the past," he wrote in a recent article, "my daily schedule was always packed to the limit, [I was] always complaining about lack of time and how I looked forward to Sundays, when I could sleep in. ... Who knew that God would give me an endless `vacation?'"
Despite being on a long "vacation," Chen continues to write. He relies on his wife Liu Hsueh-hui (劉學慧) and good friend Chang Cheng-tze (張澄子) to record his words one by one. "How can someone still with a half glass of water [to drink] not feel satisfied?" he said.
Chen initially felt that he was suffering from a gruesome torture until his doctor told him that few people shared his illness. He said that he "immediately felt inflated" and thought to himself that he was "that lucky after all"
Chen said he had once described beautiful eyes as "eyes that could talk." He said he never anticipated that his own presbyopic eyes would have such a great "remaining value." I told him in a recent letter that, because he could now only communicate with others by blinking, "[his] eyes and facial expressions seem lively and energetic, and [his] smiles down to earth and adorable."
Chen values his work very much. After he became sick, he published some of his old works, which, combined, add up to nearly a million characters, and put them into a collection of eight books he titled the Chen Hung Anthology. The books are not only family heirlooms, but constitute a valuable collection for the study of Taiwanese society and culture. In his writings, one vividly senses his love for Taiwan, as well as his keen observations and dedication to getting to the bottom of things, no matter the difficulty.
In a short article Chen wrote six months ago titled "Hold on to life, bravely move forward" (
Now, Chen continues to work hard at writing, paying painstaking attention to the details of his works. In a manner no less picky than when he was a chief editor, he continues to record his thoughts and feelings in his bed and publish them in various journals. "I want to leave some traces of myself behind," he said.
"Chen worked too hard before," his wife said, "he should have left some time for himself and his family." In the past three years, she has cared for Chen and spent time with him recording his "talk." Perhaps, in a way, they are making up for lost time. She prays to herself that Chen can go on blinking his eyes.
On March 9, Chen's wife and friends will hold a press conference for the release of his collection of his works in the auditorium of the Armed Forces Sungshan Hospital.
Rick Chu is the editor in chief of Taipei Times.
A few weeks ago I found myself at a Family Mart talking with the morning shift worker there, who has become my coffee guy. Both of us were in a funk over the “unseasonable” warm weather, a state of mind known as “solastalgia” — distress produced by environmental change. In fact, the weather was not that out of the ordinary in boiling Central Taiwan, and likely cooler than the temperatures we will experience in the near-future. According to the Taiwan Adaptation Platform, between 1957 and 2006, summer lengthened by 27.8 days, while winter shrunk by 29.7 days. Winter is not
Taiwan’s post-World War II architecture, “practical, cheap and temporary,” not to mention “rather forgettable.” This was a characterization recently given by Taiwan-based historian John Ross on his Formosa Files podcast. Yet the 1960s and 1970s were, in fact, the period of Taiwan’s foundational building boom, which, to a great extent, defined the look of Taiwan’s cities, determining the way denizens live today. During this period, functionalist concrete blocks and Chinese nostalgia gave way to new interpretations of modernism, large planned communities and high-rise skyscrapers. It is currently the subject of a new exhibition at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, Modern
March 25 to March 31 A 56-year-old Wu Li Yu-ke (吳李玉哥) was straightening out her artist son’s piles of drawings when she inadvertently flipped one over, revealing the blank backside of the paper. Absent-mindedly, she picked up a pencil and recalled how she used to sketch embroidery designs for her clothing business. Without clients and budget or labor constraints to worry about, Wu Li drew freely whatever image came to her mind. With much more free time now that her son had found a job, she found herself missing her home village in China, where she
In recent years, Slovakia has been seen as a highly democratic and Western-oriented Central European country. This image was reinforced by the election of the country’s first female president in 2019, efforts to provide extensive assistance to Ukraine and the strengthening of relations with Taiwan, all of which strengthened Slovakia’s position within the European Union. However, the latest developments in the country suggest that the situation is changing rapidly. As such, the presidential elections to be held on March 23 will be an indicator of whether Slovakia remains in the Western sphere of influence or moves eastward, notably towards Russia and