Si Mateneng of the Tao indigenous community felt like he had reunited with a lost friend. While visiting Seattle’s Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture, he encountered a boat that had been in the US since the 1970s, first hanging in a restaurant then languishing in a warehouse before being purchased by a collector and donated to the museum. Si Mateneng could tell from the crosses on the vessel, known as a tatala, that it was built on his homeland of Orchid Island (Lanyu, 蘭嶼) after the introduction of Christianity in 1959. He could hardly contain his excitement.
Si Mateneng was also excited to see a small tatala carving from around 1925, as it used processing methods that no longer exist.
“Despite being in the US, the experience left me feeling transported back to Lanyu, completely immersed in the richness of Tao culture. It was a unique and captivating sensation,” he says.
Photo courtesy of SI Mateneng
Si Mateneng was one of two Taiwanese youth ambassadors participating in the annual Tribal Canoe Journey that took place from late July to early August. The idea is for indigenous peoples from the region to journey from their lands and paddle toward a chosen location. This year more than 100 vessels eventually arriving in Aiki Beach in the US state of Washington, home of the Muckleshoot tribe.
Taiwanese participation was made possible by nonprofit organization Indigenous Bridges, which established a “canoe family” relationship with the Nisqually in 2017.
During the days-long journey through the Puget Sound, Si Mateneng had the opportunity to “pull” (paddle) a canoe twice for four hours each time.
Photo courtesy of SI Mateneng
“It’s also an honor to pull, so everyone is fighting for the opportunity,” he says.
After the journey they spent time in Seattle, where Si Mateneng visited the tatala on display at the Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture and shared his knowledge with museum staff. That was the only event where they had to be somewhere at a set time.
“During the trip, we set out when the sun rose, landed whenever we arrived and meetings were held spontaneously,” he says.
Photo courtesy of SI Mateneng
FIRST ROWING
Soon after arriving, Si Mateneng was eager to try his hand on one of the canoes to “test his relationship with the ocean.”
But he had to wait as many wanted to participate.
Photo courtesy of SI Mateneng
At the next stop, they were joined by the smaller Chehalis tribe, who looked like they could use some help. He ended up paddling for the entire four-hour journey, and was contemplating taking the following day off when a Nisqually paddler asked if he’d like to participate.
“Without a moment’s hesitation, I responded with a resounding ‘yes,’” Si Mateneng writes in his journal. Afterward, the Nisqually gifted him a “warrior” t-shirt, which he saw as an acknowledgement of his inclusion within the community.
“I felt that I was a nobody at first,” he says. “But after paddling, they started introducing my name, where I was from and that I also came from a [boat] culture. Only then could I share my traditions with them.”
Photo courtesy of Gary Smoke
The communities perceive rowing the canoe as a healing, meditative process. Si Mateneng says that he had many worries before he arrived, and felt much calmer after.
“You have to focus on keeping up with the pace and making the correct motions; you don’t have any energy to think about other things,” he says. “You start really enjoying the moment.”
During the journey, the tribes explained some of their language and culture, and also kept participants motivated by dedicating each row to a cause.
“They’ll say, let’s pull 10 times for cancer patients, 10 times for those who lost family during COVID,” Si Mateneng says.
SHARED VALUES
About 20 canoes had congregated when Si Mateneng arrived, but their numbers grew along the way as more communities joined. Each stop had an indigenous host, and the paddlers followed traditional protocol by explaining who they were and asking permission to come ashore.
The host provided food for the guests, and Si Mateneng saw that they had much reverence toward the elders, who got to eat first, followed by the paddlers and then the rest of the participants.
Besides significant differences in structure and rowing style, he also noticed while the Tao still use their tatala in their daily livelihood, it’s become purely symbolic for the Native Americans.
“They place great importance on traditional practices, and that’s why they ride the canoes in the water once again,” he says. “They’re recreating what their ancestors once did, while respecting each other and their respective territories. This event really focuses on the humanistic aspect.”
Si Mateneng hopes that in Taiwan, he can also exchange and share with people more genuinely without worrying what each party gets out of it.
“It’s not just sharing what I have, but also my feelings and emotions on a more spiritual level,” he says.
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
Mongolian influencer Anudari Daarya looks effortlessly glamorous and carefree in her social media posts — but the classically trained pianist’s road to acceptance as a transgender artist has been anything but easy. She is one of a growing number of Mongolian LGBTQ youth challenging stereotypes and fighting for acceptance through media representation in the socially conservative country. LGBTQ Mongolians often hide their identities from their employers and colleagues for fear of discrimination, with a survey by the non-profit LGBT Centre Mongolia showing that only 20 percent of people felt comfortable coming out at work. Daarya, 25, said she has faced discrimination since she
RSS