Aug. 28 to Sept. 3
Chen Shu-chu (陳樹菊) had never heard of Time magazine when it named her as one of its 100 most influential people of 2010. It was director Ang Lee (李安) who recommended her — though she also had no idea who he was.
“I never understood why they chose me,” the noted philanthropist states in her 2011 biography, Sensational Kindness (不凡的慷慨) by Liu Yung-yi (劉永毅). “I’m just a regular, insignificant vegetable vendor ... There are countless people who are more famous than me, and who have donated 10, 20 or even 100 times more money than me.”
Photo courtesy of David Shankbone
Overcoming a destitute childhood where she was forced to quit school at the age of 13 to sell vegetables while taking care of five siblings, Chen initially just wanted to silently pay forward the kindness that she received over the years. But after the Liberty Times (Taipei Times’ sister paper) uncovered her deeds around 2005, her profile blew up.
“I never told anyone about what I was doing because it was my personal business,” she says. “All of a sudden, everybody knows.”
Chen retired in 2018 due to poor health after more than 50 years running her stall in Taitung’s Central Market, but she continued to give to society. To honor her mother who died giving birth to her younger brother, she donated NT$15 million in 2021 to help pregnant women in need and support children who have lost their mothers in childbirth.
Photo courtesy of Taipei Public Library
In addition to numerous honors and awards, Asteroid 278986, discovered at Nantou’s Lulin Observatory in 2008, was named after her in 2018.
FAMILY TRAGEDIES
Born in Yunlin County, Chen moved with her family to Taitung when she was seven years old. The family of six rented a thatched hut in their new home and sold vegetables for a living. Two more children were born in the next five years. Although they didn’t have much, Chen’s life was relatively worry-free until she graduated from primary school. Things even seemed to look up, as the family won a lot drawing for the most coveted stall in the newly completed Taitung Central Market.
Photo: Huang Ming-tang, Taipei Times
But Chen’s mother just managed the stall for a few weeks before she died giving birth to her seventh child. Since the baby was too large, the birth required a C-section, which the family could not afford. By the time her father managed to borrow enough cash, it was too late.
This tragedy dashed Chen’s plans of attending junior high school, and she began working at the family’s vegetable stall and helping raise her siblings. Money was tight and it became her daily task to figure out how to use what they had to feed everyone, even if it meant that she didn’t get to eat.
The family’s misfortune continued, when one her younger brothers fell ill at the age of 11. The local doctors could not diagnose his sickness and recommended they take him to National Taiwan University Hospital. Her father failed to borrow money from relatives, and finally the brother’s teacher saved them by launching a schoolwide fundraising campaign. Chen’s brother didn’t make it in the end, but this event planted the seeds of philanthropy in her heart.
Photo: Huang Ming-tang, Taipei Times
BOOMING BUSINESS
After her brother’s death, Chen was determined to make as much money as she could so the family would never be unable to pay for medical treatment again.
She made changes to the business model and worked grueling hours, often being the first to arrive and last to leave the market and taking just one day off per year. She developed the habit of sleeping on the floor so she would wake up early, and even when she traveled to the US to receive her honors she still slept on the floor at the hotel.
With her business acumen, Chen put her siblings through high school and university. She had put aside some extra cash to buy some nice clothes and eat a fancy meal, but she found that she had little desire for material comforts. Her savings grew.
Whenever people asked why she worked so late, however, Chen answered that there was nobody to go home to anyway. She was about to marry her first boyfriend when her father asked if they could delay the wedding until her siblings were older. He agreed, but a week later he married someone else.
“I lost faith and interest in marriage after that,” she says.
A fortune teller told her she would have three children, however, and when Chen bought a house she kept three extra rooms for them. They remained empty. But she also practically raised her three nephews.
Chen’s business received a major boost when troops from Green Island realized that it was cheaper to buy from her than to have vegetables shipped there. Through investing her savings, she achieved considerable financial security.
Accustomed to living frugally, Chen found that she had little use for the money herself. Despite developing all sorts of health problems, she continued to toil at the market.
“I just saw my physical pains as debts I had to pay back in this life,” the devout Buddhist said. “I believe that when I no longer owe anyone and nobody owes me, then everything will resolve itself. Plus, I still have a mission to complete, so before that, no matter how much I am suffering, I will clench my teeth and carry on.”
HAPPINESS IN GIVING
Chen’s surviving siblings had started their own families and lived comfortably, so she believed that she had fulfilled her duty. She didn’t want her wealth to cause any family disputes, so she declared early on that they wouldn’t receive any of it.
“I might as well give the money to people who actually need it,” she says.
Shortly after her father’s death in the early 1990s, Chen donated NT$1 million to Fo Guang Shan monastery. But after seeing some monks behaving blasphemously, she decided to give directly to the needy. In 1996, she started sponsoring kids annually at the Kids Alive children’s home in Taitung, and later gave the organization NT$1 million.
For a long time, Chen could not sleep well. She often stayed up crying while her thoughts raced, and when she felt especially lonely she would go weep at her mother’s grave in the middle of the night. This changed when she began helping children.
“Every time I saw those children’s smiles, my heart opened up. From within came an indescribable, rich happiness, and from then on I was always able to sleep deeply and soundly,” she says. “I’m glad that money can bring such wonderful feelings. I never wanted anything back for my deeds. Being able to sleep well is the best reward.”
To thank Jen-ai Elementary School (仁愛國小) for raising funds for her sick brother back in the day, she gave NT$550,000 to help students in crisis and to build a library.
It was through this library donation that Liberty Times reporter Huang Ming-tang (黃明堂) learned of Chen’s name and found out about her philanthropy. Chen refused to be interviewed at first, but eventually relented and her story made the front page in 2009.
One day, a particularly large media scrum showed up at her stall — it turns out she was named one of 48 “heroes of philanthropy” by Forbes magazine. She barely had time to digest the news when they showed up again two days later for Time magazine’s selection.
The government urged her to go to the US to receive the award. After much prodding, Chen reluctantly went. She finally had a chance to wear for the first time some of the nice clothes she had bought years previously.
Despite becoming a local celebrity, she could only think of going back to work so she could make more money to give away. She didn’t even take a day off after returning home, showing up at her vegetable stall the next day.
Taiwan in Time, a column about Taiwan’s history that is published every Sunday, spotlights important or interesting events around the nation that either have anniversaries this week or are tied to current events.
Under pressure, President William Lai (賴清德) has enacted his first cabinet reshuffle. Whether it will be enough to staunch the bleeding remains to be seen. Cabinet members in the Executive Yuan almost always end up as sacrificial lambs, especially those appointed early in a president’s term. When presidents are under pressure, the cabinet is reshuffled. This is not unique to any party or president; this is the custom. This is the case in many democracies, especially parliamentary ones. In Taiwan, constitutionally the president presides over the heads of the five branches of government, each of which is confusingly translated as “president”
Sept. 1 to Sept. 7 In 1899, Kozaburo Hirai became the first documented Japanese to wed a Taiwanese under colonial rule. The soldier was partly motivated by the government’s policy of assimilating the Taiwanese population through intermarriage. While his friends and family disapproved and even mocked him, the marriage endured. By 1930, when his story appeared in Tales of Virtuous Deeds in Taiwan, Hirai had settled in his wife’s rural Changhua hometown, farming the land and integrating into local society. Similarly, Aiko Fujii, who married into the prominent Wufeng Lin Family (霧峰林家) in 1927, quickly learned Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese) and
The Venice Film Festival kicked off with the world premiere of Paolo Sorrentino’s La Grazia Wednesday night on the Lido. The opening ceremony of the festival also saw Francis Ford Coppola presenting filmmaker Werner Herzog with a lifetime achievement prize. The 82nd edition of the glamorous international film festival is playing host to many Hollywood stars, including George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Dwayne Johnson, and famed auteurs, from Guillermo del Toro to Kathryn Bigelow, who all have films debuting over the next 10 days. The conflict in Gaza has also already been an everpresent topic both outside the festival’s walls, where
The low voter turnout for the referendum on Aug. 23 shows that many Taiwanese are apathetic about nuclear energy, but there are long-term energy stakes involved that the public needs to grasp Taiwan faces an energy trilemma: soaring AI-driven demand, pressure to cut carbon and reliance on fragile fuel imports. But the nuclear referendum on Aug. 23 showed how little this registered with voters, many of whom neither see the long game nor grasp the stakes. Volunteer referendum worker Vivian Chen (陳薇安) put it bluntly: “I’ve seen many people asking what they’re voting for when they arrive to vote. They cast their vote without even doing any research.” Imagine Taiwanese voters invited to a poker table. The bet looked simple — yes or no — yet most never showed. More than two-thirds of those