There's something deeply suspicious about theme park displays of aboriginal culture.
My guidebook referred to Santimen as "a small town where the plains dramatically meet the mountains," before going on to say that it was inhabited "mostly by Paiwan aborigines." But it wasn't the village I'd come to see -- it was the Taiwan Aboriginal Culture Park.
In some ways, I expected the worst, a fast-food diminution of Taiwan's aboriginal culture, so it was a surprise to find myself in the exhibition hall, just inside the entrance to the park, actually intrigued by the displays.
Within the spacious hall, the nine tribes of Taiwan are represented in anthropological snapshots that preserve slices of their disappearing cultures. A flotilla of Ami canoes stands before a huge mural depicting a boat-launching ceremony in which a boat with a man in it miraculously floats above a sea of hands belonging to a crowd of loin-clothed men.
Throughout the hall were black-and-white prints of village life around the island taken at the turn-of-the-century; or tasteful displays of tribal weaving -- there were braided rattan "hunting knapsacks" that could easily be retailed in Hsimenting as fashion accessories; and fascinating displays of spears, bows and arrows, bird snares and fishing nets. Occasionally amusing English signs pointed out how items like the "the primitive spear and bow and arrow" had been gradually replaced "by the more sophisticated shotgun."
Take a stroll
The aboriginal park stretches over a surprisingly large area and may be covered quickly in shuttle buses complete with megaphone-wielding tour guides. But it's best to leave them behind, especially since it only takes around half an hour to stroll from one end to the other, a walk that takes in wooded villages, has a couple of wonderful swaying suspension bridges and includes some splendid views of the surrounding mountains and the valley below Santimen.
The other advantage of walking through the park is that you can take your time to explore each of the aboriginal villages, which represent the main tribes. Essentially they are little more than displays of traditional aboriginal architecture -- no one lives in them; most aborigines these days live in villages virtually indistinguishable from any Taiwanese village, such as Santimen -- a small cluster of two-story homes, noodle stands and shops.
But this doesn't make the displays any less fascinating. Particularly interesting is the house on stilts five or six meters high that is in the Puyuma village, a small tribe of just 8,000 from Taidong county. The absence of any means of access -- save pole-vaulting -- into the lofty structure, I could only assume was to discourage visitors like me from climbing up and taking a closer look.
But for Taiwanese visitors, the highlight of a visit to the Aboriginal Culture Park is not the rustic tribal villages but the aboriginal singing and dancing. Indeed, for most visitors, the singing and dancing is perhaps the only attraction -- as I explored the villages, poking around inside the homes, and snapping pictures of picturesque thatched roofs I didn't see a single other person.
Inside the performance hall, it was another scene altogether. A small team of Paiwan aboriginals in all their finery were herding about 70 Taiwanese into a huge rollicking circle. A woman with a booming microphone shouted out commands.
"Left leg forward, right leg back!"
Legs flailed.
"Okay, everybody. Change hands!"
Confusion ensued as the group turned this way and that looking for hands to change.
Final blessing
The tempo of the music increased and the circle became a spiral under the guidance of the Paiwan male dancers, one of whom waved what looked like a huge liquorice stick over everybody's ducked heads.
As the music reached a crescendo and the Paiwan lead dancer with the microphone began calling out farewells, the crowds began to queue for video tapes of the dancing and to race outside for group photo sessions with the dancers.
To be sure, it was a trivialization of Taiwanese aboriginal culture, but it was carried out in such a spirit of fun that it was difficult to take offense. Laughter echoed out across the parking lot, with its serried buses waiting to take the tourists home. People jostled playfully for photos. And then gradually, in twos and threes, the dancers made their departure, waving to the waving crowds.
And once the last of the buses had departed, I was free to wander back the way I had come in solitude -- through the villages, over the bridges, and past the views of the mountains and the valley below Santimen.
For Your Information:
Santimen is accessible from Pingtung via half-hourly bus departures from the bus station opposite the train station. The journey takes around one hour.
The Taiwan Aboriginal Culture Park is open from 8am to 5:30pm, closed Mondays. Dance performances take place at 11am and 3pm.
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