Wandering in Wulai

Sunday, November 23, 2003

useful information

I learned something useful today. We've got these centipedes about 15 centimeters long. Today I learned that their bite is painful, but not fatal.

Memorium
JFK: Dallas Texas, November 22, 1963

Saturday, November 22, 2003

今天看到一隻朱鸝
去年冬天同時來了三對

Friday, November 21, 2003

Background: Tlahux and Bengax are running dogs. Brave, short-legged beagle Yumin will never keep up with them. They have long legs and have grown up racing up and down steep mountains. When they were just a few months old, practically as soon as they were big enough to go outdoors, they amazed me by clambering up and down a sheer drop of over two meters, well over six times their height then.

We were walking down the road the other night when we passed an concrete embankment, taller than me, vertical. A cat was sitting on top of it, probably thinking it was safe. What it neglected to note was that next to it, there was a ladder leaning against the wall, almost vertical. Quick as a flash, Bengax whizzed up the ladder and went after the cat, which recovered from its surprise fast enough to scramble up a tree.

I had never seen a dog climb a ladder before.

MY EYES ARE OPENED
My friend Roger, now in Texas, has sent me a very valuable source of news. It is
full of information of which I was previously, grievously, unaware. Of course, I don't watch Fox or CNN, so this may not be news to you people, but by golly, this sure explained things for me. Right there on the front page, there are big headlines:

ONE MONTH AFTER THEIR GAY WEDDING SHOCKED THE WORLD
SADDAM & OSAMA ADOPT SHAVED APE BABY

Now I know it must be true, they can’t be making this up, because right there on the front page, they have a photograph!! Of Osama, Saddam, and the shaved ape baby.

Thanks to Roger. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even have known that Saddam and Osama got married (who proposed to whom, do you think?). No wonder Mr Bush attacked Iraq! It just goes to show that you shouldn't doubt those in authority, because very often, they have information that we common citizens learn only much later, after the fact. But I'm glad to get that cleared up. I bet they were engaged long before 9/11, which lays responsibility clearly with Iraq. Good thing we spent all that money attacking them!

There are two more important headlines on the first page:

FOUND: HAIR FROM GOD'S BEARD!
DNA TESTS PROVE IT'S FOR REAL

The existence of God has hereby been proven. Now isn't that important? I mean, if they've got DNA tests, they can't be faking. Also, you can tell they're sincere because they use an exclamation point.

And the third vital headline:
BUSH TO MAKE SQUARE DANCING COMPULSORY FOR ALL AMERICANS
Sincerely, friends, I have to express a certain sense of disappointment in some of you. How could you have neglected to inform me of this significant news? All Americans, it says. Do you think they will send a teacher to Wulai? Or will I have to go down to the city?

I'm sure you will all want to rush right out and buy a copy of this invaluable journal for yourselves, because inside it is full of other important news (for example, when the Apollo astronauts went to the moon, before they took photos for us to see, they had to clear up the litter from ET picnics.) Go right to your newsstand and get a copy of Weekly World News. Your eyes too will be opened!!!

Thursday, November 20, 2003

OBSERVATION
You can learn a lot by observing nature. Of course the Tayal are experts. Tribal elders can tell the time by listening to bird calls! No kidding! Tribal youngsters tell the time by checking their cell phones.

I've lived in Wulai for almost seven years now, and I have developed an almost uncanny ability for predicting the weather, especially in the winter, and in particular in November. Out of the goodness of my heart, I have decided to divulge unto you the secrets of nature I have learned for predicting the winter weather here in Wulai.

If the bird called the tkrat flocks in the qesu tree in the late afternoon, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the moon has a ring of clouds around it about twice the diameter of the moon, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If a crow flies from east to west, and then turns north, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the second star in the belt of Orion is shining brightly, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If squirrels gather in high branches of trees to chatter, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the moon is covered with clouds, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If a crow flies from north to south, and then turns west, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the wind blows from the south, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the kind of earthworm called sbisu crawls uphill, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the temperature drops right after dark, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the moon is shining brightly, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If flying squirrels race along the bamboo from north to south, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the temperature rises right after dark, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the wind blows from the north, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If a rainbow appears around the moon, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the Seven Sisters constellation is covered with clouds before midnight, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If squirrels gather in low branches of trees to chatter, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the sun is out, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the temperature stays steady right after dark, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the bird called the sibegay flies into the tluy tree before noon, it's going to rain tomorrow.

If the full moon comes up in the east, it's going to rain tomorrow.

Let's see, I think that about covers it. I am sure you are all awed by my amazing powers of observation, but let me remind you that this is the fruit of years' of experience.

Monday, November 17, 2003

In Praise of Bamboo
written in 1998

Bamboo is truly a wonderful material. You can use it for so many things, and it is so easy to prepare. The Chief's friend, about his age, a flatlander (Han Chinese, not aborigine) takes his mountain knife in both hands, plants his feet, and chops down a bamboo thicker than your wrist with one blow. Huicheng's friend in the mountains there north, a sturdy young Han farmer named Ah-tsuan, does it one-handed with one mighty swipe. Yaya (Mother, the Chief's wife) uses one hand and two strikes. The Chief does it with a light flick of the wrist, effortlessly.

One day I heard some sort of noise, and went out to investigate, lest it be bamboo rustlers closing in. It turned out the Chief and Yaya were washing the spare water tower, which is about 25 yards from here, towards their place. The water tower is like a great metal bottle, about eight feet tall, with hoses coming in from the spring, and pipes leading down to the faucets. The two old folks were perched up on top of the tower. I did what I could to help without getting in the way, scrubbing the outside, handing them the hoses. Then Chief told Yaya to get in and scrub the insides, but from the 'bottle cap' it's a drop right down to the bottom, which is, again, about eight feet, and Yaya did not feel like dropping straight down eight feet (these old ladies get so finicky). After some discussion, Chief went and prepared a bamboo pole (this is what inspired the discussion of the utility of bamboo; he had a twenty foot pole cleaned and ready to use within five minutes, including time for walking over and selecting it) and Yaya slid down that, fireman fashion. I hovered around helpfully outside as she scrubbed the inside; Chief wandered off to pluck some bamboo shoots. Then the problem arose: Yaya couldn't. Arise, I mean. She couldn't climb back up the bamboo pole, so she was trapped down there as surely as any genie caught in a bottle. (You may cluck your tongue disapprovingly about the effete younger generation. Only 63 and she can't shinny up a bamboo pole?) I called out encouragement, but I was just as happy the tower walls are opaque so she couldn't see me smiling. It was ludicrous. I felt like calling out, “Yaya, don't worry, we'll feed you three times a day!”

Finally the Chief strolled back with a bag full of bamboo shoots. “Is she finished yet?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Where is she?”

A muffled voice issued from the water tower, “I can't get out” and they discussed the topic carefully in Tayal. Eventually, Chief climbed up on top of the tower and dragged her out by the wrist.

Children, do you know what your grandparents are doing while you're in school?

Thursday, November 13, 2003

I wrote this for Nguoi Viet (the Viet Namese newspaper in California)
Gavin Menzies in Taipei

Chinese are so tactful.

Gavin Menzies appeared in Taipei Tuesday (November 11) at the publishing house that is putting out the Chinese translation of his book 1421: The Year China Discovered the World. Menzies served as a submarine captain in the British navy, but has had no training in academic research, so in the writing of this book, his problems are manifold.

First, although he repeats loud and often that he spent fifteen years and traveled through a hundred countries to write his book, he never bothered to learn even rudimentary Chinese, which creates some difficulties for him when he wishes to deal with Chinese records ― not to mention his thorough ignorance of China.

Second, his method is to set up a goal, fasten all possible ‘evidence’ to it, full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes, and one more impertinent word out of you, sailor, and I'll have you keel-hauled. Any stone engraved in any language on any coast is taken as proof that the Chinese fleet visited that spot; never mind that he does not make any attempt to translate what might be written on those stones, or explain why a Chinese imperial fleet was writing in Indian or other languages, rather than Chinese. If somebody's legends say they were visited by people wearing white robes, in Menzies’ eyes that is proof positive that the Chinese visited, because Chinese wear white robes, don't they? (only in mourning). If the legends say they were visited by people wearing red robes, that too is taken as proof positive that the Chinese visited, because in certain ceremonies, Chinese monks wear red robes, don't they? Yes, and it could have been a wedding procession, now that you mention it, because Chinese brides wear red, too. Just goes to show how the evidence mounts up! If a word in a central American Indian language sounds like a similar Japanese word, chalk it up as proof that the Chinese were there (never mind that Chinese and Japanese are not even in the same language family); if the Mayans had a musical instrument similar to something found in Burma and Laos, that too is taken as proof of a Chinese voyage, because any fool knows that Burma, Laos, and China are all in Asia. Further evidence is seen in local legends that tell of visits by people with their hair plaited in long queues, and although Menzies knows the stereotypical Chinaman with a long ponytail, he is oblivious to the fact that the ponytail was forcibly imposed on Han Chinese by conquering Manchus almost 250 years after 1421. Chronology is never a problem that vexes Menzies.

So finally the book has been translated into Chinese, and the author has appeared in Taipei for a book promotion. I was quite curious to see how the book would be dealt with.

The promotion started with about fifty in attendance, at least half of these reporters. The Master of Ceremonies, a well-known scholar named Hu, set the tone for the promotion by assuring us that no matter whether the book makes any sense, it has a certain value because it stimulates our imagination.

The publisher went to some pains to gather leaders in their fields for the panel: a psychologist who had served as Minister of Education and now is Vice President of the great research institute, Academia Sinica; a general who is a noted military scholar; an oceanographer from the US Naval Research Laboratory. All these men have international reputations, and are fluent in English, but, reasonably enough, as this is Taiwan and they were introducing the Chinese translation of a book about China, the promotion was held in Mandarin.

The scholars all went to great lengths to explain that the author is an amateur who is to be commended for his exertions and his romantic imagination. Of course the book is controversial, and of course we don't agree with him, but he earns credit for the temerity of his suppositions. The book may be read as a historical novel, or as science fiction, and maybe it will stimulate someone who knows something to look into these matters more deeply, and with some accuracy. It was pointed out that the man might be allowed a certain leeway, since he does not know a single word of Chinese. The translator very discreetly stated that none of Menzies' evidence would stand up in a court of law. Even the publisher went out of his way to explain that no matter how controversial the book may be, you have to admire Menzies’ gumption.

One of the professors began in English as a courtesy to the author, but apologized and said he would continue in Chinese. At first, Mr Bao, who translated the book, provided Menzies with a running translation, but he soon stopped, so the author did not have the slightest idea of what was being said about his book.

This became extremely obvious when Mr Menzies himself took the lectern and began his remarks by saying, “I am glad there is such little controversy about my book.” The people in the audience who understood English immediately smothered guffaws, and waited eagerly to see how Bao would translate this. He pulled through bravely: “I am glad that so many of you have offered valuable comments on my book.” Bao's translation of the talk was good, but even he had difficulty giving voice to some of the more ludicrous assertions, hemming and hawing for a diplomatic translation.

From his talk, we learned that Menzies is apparently unaware of the difference between New Year on the western and on the Chinese calendars; that one of his sources for research was a talk given by a tour guide; and that in fifteen years’ research on China, he has learned so little about the Chinese language that he cannot even produce reasonable renditions of place names such as Beijing. (It’s not hard; bay, then jing is like the first syllable of jingoism. Close enough: a lot closer than he got!)

He played up records of discoveries of “Chinese villages” across the Atlantic coast during the first European voyages to America. I wanted to ask two questions. What are the aborigines of America called? What were sufferers of Downs’ Syndrome once called? The American aborigines were called Indians because Columbus, an experienced voyager, had no idea what a South Asian Indian looked like, but he had planned to go to India. Even the sailors on the Bounty called the Tahitians ‘Indians.’ Sufferers of Downs’ Syndrome were once called mongoloids because people thought that is what Mongols looked like. In the days before printing and television, people had only vague ideas of what foreigners looked like. The explorers were searching for the Northwest Passage to China, they found a village, so they assumed they were in China. But I kept quiet, as Menzies had the floor.

The floor was later opened to questions. The first question asked was, the Ming fleets went to Africa in search of a giraffe for the emperor, what would have been their motive in going to America? Menzies informed us that first they wanted to spread “Confucian harmony” throughout the world. This answer was greeted with studied silence. Perhaps Menzies has mistaken Confucianism for evangelical Christianity. After all, the Rites (in the 13 Classics) says, “In proper behavior, there is only coming to learn, there is no such thing as going forth to teach.” A ruler's virtue was supposed to attract others from afar: to send ships to spread “Confucian harmony” would be tantamount to announcing to the world that he had no virtue.

The second motive Menzies proposed for this arduous voyage was that they wanted to spread crops, such as taking sweet potatoes from Africa to Asia (I think it was sweet potatoes, anyway. I was busy trying to figure out how transporting crops from Africa to Asia constituted a motive for travel to America). He told us about how much evidence he presented on his website.

Because of that comment, I took the floor next (speaking Chinese like everybody else. The man has a translator.) I explained that I bought the English version of this book on-line as soon as it was available, and read it with great, and then dwindling, hopes. I was so disappointed by his poor respect for facts and slapdash logic that, in March 2003, I went to the discussion area of the 1421 website. There I found that many others had similar doubts. Many participants in the discussion pointed out factual errors, logical fallacies, and utter nonsense in the book. Finally, the participants begged Menzies to come to the discussion area and respond to some of these criticisms. Some time later, he finally did; he said we are all wrong, he is right. Shortly thereafter he deleted all criticisms of his book from the website.

Mr Menzies’ response to this was, “It's my website. I can do as I please.” This brought a laugh. Several voices called out, “Aye aye, captain!” But they spoke Chinese, so this was lost on him. It was only after I went home and decided to take a look at the 1421 website that I realized that not only the refutations had been expunged, but the entire discussion area had been eradicated.

In response to a further question from the floor about his accuracy, Menzies admitted, very humbly, that yes, “I did make mistakes. I made two mistakes. First, I was too conservative, I said they had a hundred ships, but actually they had a thousand ships. Second, I was too conservative, I knew the Chinese fleet visited Europe but I did not say so, but I have proof.”

I was thinking: do you think I could pilot a submarine without training? And you seem to feel that dealing with hundreds of years of Chinese records is easier than piloting a submarine. Much less that his book flies in the face of established conclusions from geology, archeology, linguistics, and half a dozen other disciplines. But by then I knew to hold my tongue.

The master of ceremonies brought the promotion to a close as quickly as possible, saying, It's a good book, but you may want to read it as science fiction. But the man is a naval captain, after all, so he will brook no criticism.

Thursday, November 06, 2003

November 6, 2003
I have thought about writing a blog a while. As it happens, today I have time to set this up. All I lack is inspiration for anything to write, so I will paste in something I wrote in August, about the bus to the city from the mountains: BUS TALK.

On the Wulai bus line, there are several ways to pay your fare. You can put your coins in the box, slide a magnetized bus card through the slot, flash your computerized card in front of the sensor, or let the driver punch your pass. I always hand the drivers my pass; usually they make a gesture like they punched it and hand it back to me unscathed.

The other day when my bus pulled in at Wulai, the driver, Hua, motioned to me. “Come on, Yugan, sit up front so we can chat.” He saved me the first seat on the right row. I settled in. I wanted to ask Hua if his bus was still haunted.

An old lady got on and asked how much a ticket back to Taipei would be: NT$64. She hesitated, torn between putting all those coins in the box, and using up her magnetized bus ticket.

"How's your bus, Hua?” I asked, then realized it might be better to bring the topic up when the bus was less crowded, especially since the Ghost Month just started.

"Which way is cheaper?” the old lady asked Hua, pointing her card at the coin box.

"Grandma, you may as well use up your card, because it's only good until the end of September,” he answered.

"Oh, no, it says right here on my card that it's good until November.”

"Yes, Grandma, but where have you been? For the last six months, they've been telling everybody they're phasing out the magnetized cards, and you can't use them after the end of September.”

"Oh, no, this is the card the government gave me, you know they give bus cards to old folks.”

“Yes, Grandma, but after September 31, you won't be able to use that kind of card anymore. You've got to get a computerized card instead.”

An old man said, “It's been in the papers, on the radio, and on television.” Having said his piece, he went down and sat in the back of the bus.

"But this is the card the government gave me, and it says right here that it's good until November.” She stuck the card in Hua's face as he was trying to pass a motorcycle on a curve.

“Yes, Grandma, but at the end of September, the bus company i��

I'm cheating. this continues the story of November 6, Bus Talk

"Yes, Grandma, but at the end of September, the bus company is going to remove these readers from the buses, so you won't be able to use your ticket any more.”

“I don't believe you. You Aborigines are always telling jokes.”
“That's fine, but Grandma, let me tell you, you shouldn't put coins in the box, you should use up your ticket while you can, because after September, I won't have this reader on my bus.”

“But it says right here that this card is good until November.”

“Okay, fine, Grandma, when we get into Taipei, you take a bus number 644, and you go to Mayor Ma's office, and ask him for one of these readers. You can take it home and slide your card through the slot for as long as you please, but after September 31, you aren't going to see these readers on any of the buses, so you'll have to use a computerized card.”

“You mean I won't be able to use my magnetized card on the bus in October?”

“That's right, Grandma.”

“But it says right here that it's good until November.”

An old man from the middle of the bus joined in. “Won't do you any good. If you can't finish off your card, you may as well give it to your neighbor to use.”

“My neighbor? No, they never remember to shut the first floor door, I don't want to give them my card.”

“You may as well give it to somebody, because it won't do you any good.”

“But it says right here that it's good until November.”

Another old lady leaped into the fray. “Yes, the magnetized tickets are being phased out. I think you ought to go protest!”

Hua looked at me and we both rolled our eyes.

“Where do you think I should go protest?”

“Well, Taipei City Government, of course.”

“No, try the Bureau of Transportation.”

“No, I think it should be the Taipei City Government.”

“No, no, you're all wrong, because Wulai is in Taipei County, not Taipei City, so it's the Bureau of Transportation you want, not the City Government.”

“But the bus runs into Taipei City.”

“The bus company is Hsintien Bus Company, right? And Hsintien is Taipei County, not Taipei City, so it's the Bureau of Transportation you want.”

“Well, I certainly am going to do something about it. Why, just last month, I was on a bus with my sister, and I had her ticket and she had my ticket…” Hua had long lost interest in the conversation. We reached Turtle Mountain, where two little sixth grade girls got on the bus, asking, “Hua, when are we going to play basketball again?”

“so she gave the driver my magnetized ticket, but he said it was all used up.”

“I don't have a day off this week, so it'll have to be next week.”

“He said, ‘You can't use that ticket, it's all used up.’”

“Can your daughter come play with us again?”

“My sister said, ‘It can't be all used up, it's my sister's ticket.’”

“Sure, I think so, it's summer vacation, so she doesn't have much to do.”

“He said, ‘I don't care whose ticket it is, it's all used up, so you can't use it, you have to use a new ticket, or put cash in the box.’”

“Where do you think we can play?”

“So I said, ‘That's my ticket, my sister's ticket is right here.’”

“Well, silly, where do you live?”

“The driver said, ‘I don't care whose ticket you use, just so the bus company gets two fares.’”

“Turtle Mountain, you know that.”

“My sister said, ‘So if you don't care whose ticket I use, I'll use my sister's ticket.’”

“And there are no basketball courts in Turtle Mountain?”

“Then the driver got very impatient and said, ‘I told you, you can't use that ticket, and actually, according to government laws and bus company regulations, since it's all used up, I can confiscate it!’”

“We have a perfectly good basketball court. ”

“So I said, ‘There's no need for you to confiscate it, because the government gave me this ticket. You know we old folks get free bus tickets.’”

“Okay, so I'll drive my daughter down and she can play basketball with you in Turtle Mountain.”

“Right, we get twenty free rides a month.”

“What's the old lady bickering about?”

“So I said, ‘It says right here that this ticket is good until November, so you can't confiscate it!’ So he didn't. But you're right, I really do think I should go protest.”

“Don't call her an old lady, call her Grandma, show some respect for your elders.”

“Bureau of Transportation, no doubt about it.”

“How can I show respect, when you've got an intellectual age of a nine year old?”

“No, you have to talk to Mayor Ma about it.”

“Yeah, Hua, when we talk to you, we have to use simple words so you can understand.”

“Mayor Ma may run for President, so he will want to help people so you vote for him in the election.”

“It's not my intellectual age, it's showing respect for Grandma here, who is our elder.”

“How many times do I have to explain, this is the Hsintien Bus Company, and Hsintien is in Taipei County.”

“Okay, but why don't we go play basketball in Wulai?”

“Yes, but the line runs in to Taipei City, doesn't it? Taipei City Government.”

“Who would drive you there?”

“Otherwise, just give your card to your neighbor.”

“We could take a bus.”

“No, I think I can use it all up by November.”

“Whatever. You phone my daughter and make arrangements with her.” By this time, the bus had reached the edge of the city. Hua pulled over his microphone, and with great relief in his voice, announced, “We have reached the Hsintien subway terminal. All who wish to take the subway may transfer here.”

I got off the bus in back of Grandma. As she got off, she showed Hua her card: “See, it says right here that this is good until November.”

“Yes, Grandma, anything you say,” Hua said. Then he looked at me and we both rolled our eyes heavenward. But I never did get to ask about the haunting.

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

I have been teaching mama (uncle) Takyu the letters so he can write Tayal, his native language. When the letters come in order, he is doing okay, but he still has trouble when they are all mixed up. To solve this, I ask him how to spell words, or write words and ask him what they say. We were sitting in the living room working on this at the big table when his son, daughter-in-law, and a couple guests tromped through and stopped to view his progress, learning, like everything else, being a communal effort. I wrote down yutas (grandfather, respected elder) and asked him to read it. He traced the letters with his fingers, frowned, made a few attempts. I started coaching him: “yuh, ooo, duh, ah, ssss.” He squirmed in concentration. Everybody's breath was held. Maybe my dogs, waiting outside the door, felt the tension, because Tlahuy started whining. I turned my head towards the door and said, admonishingly, under my breath, “Tlahuy!” Mama Takyu's face lit up. He pointed at the word, and called out in a victorious shout: TLAHUY!

Monday, October 27, 2003

上禮拜六是烏來的大日子。幾年前，村長紹也。達可佑的太太在一次車禍中身亡，現在續弦了。婚禮在部落停車場舉行，高朋滿座，熱鬧非凡。因為上課的關係，我沒參加。等我下課回來，已經十一點半，最後的幾部車才剛走了。過部落的時候，我發現小商店居然還沒打烊，並發現新郎、新娘在裡面，還穿著禮服。我高呼，”紹也，你們怎麼還在這裡? 怎麼還沒帶新娘去渡蜜月呢?” 於是乎，他們倆臉上露出尷尬的笑容，給我看他們手上剛選購的泡麵，說，”肚子好餓，買一點泡麵回家吃…”

Sunday, October 26, 2003

My home is not by the road. There are about a hundred steps leading up a ravine from the Chief's lane to my place. It is pretty much jungle around there.

This morning Tasaw's parents came, to visit, to talk to Tasaw on my web camera, to have some tea, to bring great big bags of kibbles for the dogs. They phoned and said they were here, so I went down to meet them. The first thing they said was, You have four dogs now? There was a tiny little puppy by the mailbox which I have affixed by the foot of the steps. It was sheltered under the rain cover of my mailbox. Clever dog. It's been raining for days.

Recently a wild dog gave birth to some puppies in the jungle above that, so I figured this puppy must be hers. That explains why I heard her barking so much last night and this morning. This little puppy must have crawled away. Adventurous little fellow.

When Tasaw's parents left, I took a handful of kibbles and a towel. The puppy is too little to eat the kibbles. I think it's only about six weeks old. Eyes open, strong enough to get into mischief, not strong enough to get back to Mama. The litter seems to be in the grass under the camphor tree outside the ravine, so I suspect the puppy was exploring, slipped down over the edge, and couldn't get back up.

I wrapped it up in the towel (several reasons: it was cold, wet, and dirty; I didn't want to get my smell on it, in case the mother wouldn't accept it; I didn't want to get its smell on me, in case Tlahuy, Bengax, and Yumin wouldn't accept me!), and took it back to its mother. Of course she ran away when we came, but I put the pup there under the camphor tree and called my dogs home with me.

I think they are reunited by now. The mother has stopped barking. You don't want such a spunky little chap to die.

PS (November): several days later, the dog was taken by somebody who wanted him for a pet.

Monday, October 20, 2003

I took the subway, as usual, to the last stop, and walked to my bus stop at about 11 PM. There I found Agogo, a Tayal taxi driver, vaguely bargaining with some guy from the city who wanted to go some place half way to Wulai. I told Agogo, if you need a passenger, I'll go. (in Taiwan it is common for a taxi driver making a long drive to offer lower prices for four passengers, so they will wander around bus stops asking, “Calling for passengers: anybody want to go to XYX?” and offering their price. Or, “I have 3 for XYX, I need one more and we'll leave immediately.”) Agogo thought a bit and told the man, “Okay, I'll take you for one hundred NT since Yugan will go along.” He asked around, but there were only about three other people waiting for buses, and no takers, so we got into the taxi and left.

The guy was talkative. He kept going on and on about how he was going to a bar to sing karaoke, his friends were there already, waiting for him, and that he liked to get out of the city, and that going into the mountains was refreshing, blah blah blah. With slight condescension, he told us that “Wulai is a nice place, too.”

I told him, “If you come to Wulai, don't bring your karaoke. Leave your city pollution in the city.”

"Especially late at night,” Agogo chimed in.

“You get these people with a couple drinks in them, they start singing karaoke, it sounds like forsaken ghosts howling,” I told the guy. “You want to come to the mountains, enjoy the mountains. You can sing in the city.”

“Especially late at night,” Agogo chorused.

“You mean you don't have karaoke in Wulai?” the passenger asked, a bit sadly.

“It's not permitted in the Tribe. Somebody opened one, and we closed it down. Say, Yugan, did you see where they paved that patch of road in front of the church?”

“Yes, they didn't do much.”

“Because they came to do it in the middle of the night! Can you imagine that?”

“In the middle of the night? What for? This is not a busy city street with cars on it during the daytime.”

“They were making a lot of noise, glung glung glung, the heavy trucks and machinery. I went out and asked them, ‘What do you think you are doing?’

“They said, 'We are paving the road.’

“’In the middle of the night?’

“’It's the only time we have.’

“’You have to stop it. Wulai children are not like city children, they need quiet at night, or else they can't sleep. You have to stop right now.’ I told them that, Yugan, but they ignored me. They kept working, with their big trucks and heavy machinery, glung glung glung.

“About fifteen minutes later, I came out and told them, ‘You are disturbing the children. Our children cannot sleep with all that noise. You have to stop right now.’ But they still ignored me.

“So I went back and got my shotgun. I didn't put pellets in, I just put in some gravel. I went back and told them, ‘You have to stop now.’ Then I shot my shotgun into the air. Bang! Then the workmen all ran away and called the police.”

“Called the police?” I asked. “What good will that do? They're all Tayal.”

“Right. Ivi came in his police car and said, ‘Agogo, why did you shoot at the workmen?’ I said, ‘Which workmen did I shoot? I didn't shoot anybody. They were making too much noise, and the children couldn't sleep. Tomorrow they will fall asleep in class, so I told them to stop.’'Agogo, you don't have any kids.' 'I don't have kids myself, but there are a lot of little children in the Tribe. We have to think about them.'"

That explains why only a short patch of road got paved. It also shut up the guy in the back seat. Maybe he was wondering if he would get out of the taxi alive. We delivered him safe and sound to his karaoke bar. I hope that maybe he turned the volume on his karaoke down.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Here's an ad for a book that makes you want to rush straight to the bookstore and ask, you mean somebody actually published this?

... leads to her first realization that there's more to life than boys and cheerleading ― it's an inspirational tale of personal awakenings.

for 288 pages!!

Sunday, October 12, 2003

On and on about my dogs.

Tlahuy is extremely loyal. He is also extremely powerful, but he is shy. A puppy can pick on him, but when he has had enough, the toughest dogs in Wulai, hunting dogs that attack wild boar, turn tail and run away from him.

Bengax is, I suspect, not really a dog. Too intelligent by half. She loves to prance just outside a fence or another dog's chain reach and bark at them: nya nya nya!

Sometimes when we pass somebody's house, and their dogs come out to see what's going on, Tlahuy will stand his ground and sniff and strut with them. Then suddenly you will see swift Bengax, who you also realize has been mysteriously absent, like a streak of lightning, racing off with the dogs' bone or some tidbit from their dinner. Tlahuy will then break and run, too. Ha ha ha, bye bye suckers!

Little Yumin is very much the alpha male. He knows he is little, so when the big dogs bark and chase some shadow around the house, Yumin stays behind and observes. But when we're out, he will race straight towards the biggest dogs and nonplus them. He is fearless. I was chopping down a tree that was damaged in that typhoon. When it fell, the top landed a foot from where Yumin was lying, but he just watched it fall with utter calm.

Then in the evening if I go outdoors to sit, he is sleepy, so he crawls into my lap, nuzzles his head in under my arm, and totally relaxes, hind legs dangling in midair.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

屈尺 lalu Tayal Qsyuh. 對岸 lalu Pyasamaray, 今移 Tampya.
Bongan yaba Tali Watan.

Friday, October 03, 2003

Something interesting. One of the elders in the Tribe, Takyu, about 65, several times said that he wished he knew how to write Tayal, so I have taken him up on that. Last week I taught him to first five letters ~~ a, b, c, e, g ~~ and Monday the next five ~~ h, i, k, l, m. He is delighted, working hard to get these down. He can write Chinese, but has never learned the western alphabet. Sometimes he will make a note in Chinese, and put down his pencil in wonderment: “I have written almost nothing in the last forty years.” His wife is also learning the alphabet, but quicker. With great pride, he tells me “She went to high school, so she is educated.”

Tonight we will do n, ng, o, p, and q. Now he is asking if maybe I could teach some of the other tribal elders. I told him, nothing would please me more. How often do you get a chance like this?

FYI: Tayal/泰雅語, or Atayal, is one of the oldest languages extant. It dates back at least six thousand years, compared to about a thousand for Russian or Spanish, 1500 for English, say 4000 for Chinese.

FYI: the first five letters are pronounced ah, then sort of a mixture of B + M + V, dj, eh, and a very guttural G. an example of Tayal writing: Lpgan ke’na Tayal (a Tayal Reader).

Technically, Yugan should be spelled Yukal, but I don't want to sound like some sort of diet soda.

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

A reasonable proposal

The United States has a problem. What is to be done with all those suspected terrorists we are holding down in Cuba beyond the reach of legal process? They can never be released now, because if they didn't hate the US before, we have forced them to.

The reasonable solution is to put them to death. You may ask what crime they have been found guilty of. That's simple. If they aren't actual terrorists, we assume they are Muslims, and they were in a country suspected of harboring terrorists. There is a legal precedent. This is the same crime for which the United States bombed Iraqis in our latest display of overkill. People who inhabited the same country as Saddam were punished by legal sanctions which wrecked their economy and their middle class. Then we bombed their city. Makes you proud to be an American, doesn't it? We can whup the Iraqi Army any day of the week. Never mind that some of the people who got killed in Iraq may have been Christians or Kurds ― close enough. They were present at the scene of the crime, weren't they?

Okay, so that's settled. Now, you talk about executions, you're talking about Dubya's home state, The Lone Star Republic. Since this is going to be done, let it be in style. Putting someone to death requires legal witnesses, but a lot of people get all stressed out by that, and we don't want any unpleasantness for red-blooded Americans.

The solution is simple: have these slimy terrorists put to death at selected university fraternity houses, on Friday nights. If we're spending a billion dollars a week in Iraq to breed enemies, surely the budget can be prodded a bit to provide the legal witnesses ― doing their duty for god and country ― with a few kegs of beer. With a deal like that, the Chief Executive himself might show up, delivered by a fighter jet, so he can show off his codpiece again. But if he shows up, you couldn't lay in pretzels.

Performing executions thusly serves two purposes, each as important as the other. You tighten up security, and drum up some votes: make sure all those frat boys are registered for next fall.

If you really want a show to drive up the ratings and send the voters into a frenzy, bring in California gubernatorial candidate Arnold Terminator to perform the executions. He could ask each terrorist, “Have you immigrated to this country legally? Can you show me a valid visa?” As each one answered No, he could snap their necks with his mighty, masculine arms.

All of this will make tremendous sense to all patriotic Americans. If you don't agree, there must be something wrong with your patriotism, and if you're not careful, you might find yourself as the Guest of Honor at a frat house party some night, if you catch my drift. So let's do it!