I could barely believe it when Joyce offered to take us up to her mountain home town to check out the community's festival. Joyce is an elegant and dedicated teacher who I met at that brutal first experience of teaching English, at Elite. She is one of a few grand Taiwanese friends we've made through that fryilator of an English school. I feel particularly grateful to Joyce for opening up such a familial and private experience. We could have joined the moderate sized crowd without much direction, definitely enjoying the opportunity to share in a Taiwanese aboriginal festival/ritual, but without the spectacular romp through her family's afternoon of eating and drinking in their laid back way of chilling in the family backyard. Of course, the BBQ had been cranking since early in the morning to lay out a huge cornucopia of belt busting pleasure. With the expected caveat; we were worried there wouldn't be enough.
 |
| Entrance to the town-a Formosan Pheasant |
In case yer busy, here's a brief throw down of the day/experience. Early exit up the serpentine road to a mountainous town's ancient war ritual. Growing out of the steps of a mountain valley, the warren of homes and back streets (really just two or three main circuits weaving through the maze of homes) circles around the one central dance/ceremonial ring. Tree chopping for the god's entrance, knives, chants, swaying, spirals of dancers, cell phone pictures, a butt load of journalists, and finally a basket for heads. Oh, grand food and great people.
 |
| Everyone's a comedian, not even going to mention it, but Wang isn't with the Yankees anymore |
 |
| Stabby Stabby |
 |
| The God's stairway |
 |
| Running food back to the community, amid the masses. |
 |
| Even spongy boy made the show |
There is so much to this rich experience that I could barely share fully with you how freakin awesome it was. Alright, there is some uncrushed 80s sentiment (awesome) creeping through my mind. Anyway, it was an early morning departure from the smog of our medium sized city with mum and daughter, heading up the Escher like roadway snaking into the mountains. Near, but not located in the valley of Alishan Mountain. Her mum drove with acumen, albeit, with that Taiwanese edge-of-death-defiance most approach this, literally, dangerous route up to the mountains. We were shown where her hometown village was located on the way; an outcropping of the upper valley, built upon the steps of the valley wall. Even gave us a little moment of how she met Joyce's dad; one of those, we knew of the family and he came to town tales. Short, especially with our limited Chinese. Joyce was a great sport to translate so much for us, but we gave her a break half way through the trip to just chill, and chat with her mum in their own time.
 |
| Joyce's sisters. Exceptionally talented theater artists who blended their pro voices amidst the circle. |
 |
| Joyce's dad three away from the head honcho himself-familial recognition/importance and all that stuff. He was a real affable guy comedic at heart as well. |
It was a very local, everyday and culmative feeling about the town. Obviously a big celebration is gonna happen with everyone wearing traditional outfits, but talking to people in Taipei on a phone in their back yard quickly before the whole event starts. A freakish number of media teams are there shooting away-quite a few just family with the change to buy pro video stuff, hobby. Sheeeze.
So this is their ancient-which is true to the general time line of about 12 aboriginal tribes establish cultural centers between 3,000 to 4,000 years about, many in mountainous areas. A few theories give their perspectives on who these people got here, with similar ideas of land bridges and migratory cultures due to food shortage. Anyway, this ritual we watch is a War Ritual which actually has quite a few songs sung-paired with a group swaying dance-that are in a language many don't know; including most who are sing those songs. A few of the elder women seat themselves in the next to the central fire pit telling stories from generations past, probably with a lesson or warning, but to most attendants (including most residents) few if any know what the exact story is although they know the general lesson.
There is so much more to say, but I will refrain from going too overboard. the ceremonial dance spot is right next to the main road through the town. We stood about the dance arena-about 20 feet above-which was the southern edge of the oval dance space. Across from us were bleachers with all ages snoozing, taking photos and general blah blah blah. What we do waiting to get things rolling. On the western edge sits the guys ceremony building-a bamboo-stilted open air meeting center that has a central fire pit and a basket (which at one point when all the guys go into it, Joyce leaned over my shoulder with an extended finger point to a big wicker basket and said, "that's were they used to put the heads."). So yeah, many tribes, including the Tsou were head hunters. Now they put flowers in the basket. Oh, don't worry there is still a sacrifice of a pig. Then they attach the central tree with machetes until there are only three branches left. Yes it does grow back each year. This hack-o-rama is to create the steps for the war god to come down from the sky to basically say right on, show me what ya got. Dancing, singing, children brought into the main hut for initiation-screaming-food run from all the families to the center, tons of cameras, then a powerhouse eating frenzy in every home in the neighborhood.
 |
| The warren |
 |
| Local greens, pork, onions. |
 |
| Alright, a non-sequitur |
So thar ya go. Here's a link to a big
gallery of photos. Oh, and here are three videos from the day. The last one, you really got to wait for it. This was Joyce's uncle. I could barely keep it together as I filmed this.
The guys
The gals
Wait for it, wait for it.... wait for it
