There is nothing fancy about Wawa No Cidal (太陽的孩子). It tells the straightforward story of an Amis woman trying to re-cultivate the farmland in her ancestral village. As simple as the production is, the film is also one of the most genuine and sincere works of filmmaking that have come out this year. Directing duo Cheng Yu-chieh (鄭有傑) and Lekal Sumi turn their lens to an Amis village on Taiwan’s east coast, creating a heartfelt human drama tackling the issues that are very close to the heart of anyone who is concerned with what has happened to the country’s indigenous communities.
The film begins with Panay, played by Amis musician and TV host Ado Kaliting Pacidal, returning home to the Amis community Makutaay in Hualien County. Like most villagers, Panay works in the city, leaving her daughter Nakaw (Dongi Kacaw) and son Sera (Rahic Gulas) in the care of her father, played by village elder Kaco Lekal.
Her father’s recently diagnosed cancer, however, forces Panay to rethink her priorities. She quits her job and moves back to the village to care for her family. But she soon finds out that her home is not what it used to be.
Photo courtesy of Activator Marketing
For one thing, exploitative tourism has caused damage to the environment and disrupted the local way of life. Many villagers now make money by singing and dancing to the influx of Chinese visitors who bring trash, noise and traffic jams to the once tranquil hamlet by the sea. Meanwhile, the development frenzy grips the region as local authorities and big corporations join forces to build parks and resorts on Amis ancestral land.
In an effort to help villagers gain more sources of income, Panay explores the possibility of re-cultivating the tribal farmland that has lain fallow for years. Her plan elicits doubts and suspicion among residents, while local bureaucrats prefer to support big, lucrative development projects instead of spending a few bucks on fixing dilapidated irrigation canals.
Determined, Panay manages to get a small university research grant and successfully persuades villagers to work together to restore the terrace to its former glory. Rice grows, turning the field into a lush vista of verdant green.
But little do the villagers know that the developer, backed up by the police, has other plans in mind.
A sense of authenticity permeates Wawa No Cidal. The mostly non-professional actors are Amis who face the same real-life dilemma as the characters in the film. The directors tackle the complex problems facing Taiwan’s indigenous communities.
The level of eloquence and lucidity partially owes to young filmmaker Sumi. Having grown up in Tainan, the director has reportedly returned to Makutaay, the birthplace of his mother, to seek his indigenous roots. His experience is no doubt told through the character of Panay, who not only returns home to reconnect with her heritage but is driven to earn the acceptance and trust of her people.
Consequently, the film is mostly based on real events. One seemingly far-fetched sequence in the film, for example, refers to the controversy a few years ago in which the local government seized Aboriginal land in Makutaay because the township office managed to lose the documents concerning the villagers’ applications for registering their land as a reserve.
Despite a somewhat flawed narrative and low production values, Wawa No Cidal is recommended to anyone who wishes to gain a basic understanding of the issues facing the country’s indigenous communities.
From the last quarter of 2001, research shows that real housing prices nearly tripled (before a 2012 law to enforce housing price registration, researchers tracked a few large real estate firms to estimate housing price behavior). Incomes have not kept pace, though this has not yet led to defaults. Instead, an increasing chunk of household income goes to mortgage payments. This suggests that even if incomes grow, the mortgage squeeze will still make voters feel like their paychecks won’t stretch to cover expenses. The housing price rises in the last two decades are now driving higher rents. The rental market
July 21 to July 27 If the “Taiwan Independence Association” (TIA) incident had happened four years earlier, it probably wouldn’t have caused much of an uproar. But the arrest of four young suspected independence activists in the early hours of May 9, 1991, sparked outrage, with many denouncing it as a return to the White Terror — a time when anyone could be detained for suspected seditious activity. Not only had martial law been lifted in 1987, just days earlier on May 1, the government had abolished the Temporary Provisions Effective During the Period of National Mobilization for Suppression of the Communist
When life gives you trees, make paper. That was one of the first thoughts to cross my mind as I explored what’s now called Chung Hsing Cultural and Creative Park (中興文化創意園區, CHCCP) in Yilan County’s Wujie Township (五結). Northeast Taiwan boasts an abundance of forest resources. Yilan County is home to both Taipingshan National Forest Recreation Area (太平山國家森林遊樂區) — by far the largest reserve of its kind in the country — and Makauy Ecological Park (馬告生態園區, see “Towering trees and a tranquil lake” in the May 13, 2022 edition of this newspaper). So it was inevitable that industrial-scale paper making would
Hualien lawmaker Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) is the prime target of the recall campaigns. They want to bring him and everything he represents crashing down. This is an existential test for Fu and a critical symbolic test for the campaigners. It is also a crucial test for both the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and a personal one for party Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫). Why is Fu such a lightning rod? LOCAL LORD At the dawn of the 2020s, Fu, running as an independent candidate, beat incumbent Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) lawmaker Hsiao Bi-khim (蕭美琴) and a KMT candidate to return to the legislature representing
RSS