As the first inhabitants on the island of Formosa, indigenous communities in Taiwan – just like in most countries – have long been one of the most underserved. There are discussions and regulations in place about the preservation of indigenous cultures and transitional justice regarding indigenous history and lands, but very few are put into practice, according to advocates.

Of all the other issues that indigenous peoples in Taiwan have been facing, young people’s absence in indigenous communities is among the most crucial ones, and some within the communities have been looking for ways to make the younger generations stay.

Source: Sra

An Ongoing Trend, Young People’s Outmigration

Young people leaving ancestral lands is a challenge in many places, but particularly so to the indigenous communities in Taiwan.

For hundreds of years, indigenous peoples had been confined or ostracized to the mountainous areas, where the geographic conditions limit their access to a variety of resources; their lands were taken by Han Taiwanese and a series of colonial powers throughout history, from the Dutch and Spanish in the 17th century to the more recent Chinese and Japanese.

These suppression and systematic discriminations all contributed to their current socio-economic status. Government reports show that the higher education rate among indigenous peoples is about half of the national figure and that the low-income percentage of indigenous communities quadruples that of the whole population.

As a result, in indigenous communities, leaving is common. Young people have been moving out to cities for job opportunities and education resources.

According to Taiwan’s Council of Indigenous Peoples, in 2002, about 33 percent of the indigenous peoples live in the urban areas in the country, but the number rose to 47 percent in 2019. It shows a 14 percent increase in 17 years, an equivalent of roughly 128,000 more people in urban areas when, nationwide, there is only a 144,000 growth in the overall indigenous population.

A lot of the young people who relocated to metro areas stayed, leaving their children with their parents back home. When the children reach certain age, they also move to the cities for education. The cycle repeats itself, and it thus brings the younger generations further away from their roots.

                       

Reconstructing Indigenous History

Indigenous communities have been trying to bring young people back, and Sra started from reconstructing the history in his hometown, the Cikasuan Alupalan community in Hualien (七腳川社山下部落).

Having participated in several international conferences on indigenous rights, Sra, or Chen Bo-jun, have seen young people from indigenous communities in other countries come forward and advocate for their rights, and he hopes the same thing for his community.

“Compared to a lot of countries, Taiwan’s environment is relatively stable and the young people here don’t face as many difficulties or challenges as those in other countries,” Sra said. It is crucial, he added, for young indigenous people to be able to recognize the issues they are facing and participate in the discussions, not only within their communities but also in international society.

To be involved, Sra said, it is important to know their history first. In his community, the Cikasuan Incident is a part of history that connects all the Cikasuan people.

The incident took place in 1908 when Taiwan was under Japanese colonial control. During that time, Taito Prefectural government, grew increasingly oppressive. Many Cikasuan people at the time were hired by the Japanese police to watch the so-called “guardline (隘勇線),” a line of electrified fencing installed to “prevent indigenous threat.”

Working under Japanese management was not easy, and the police paid the Cikasuan people very little and irregularly. Finally, several Cikasuan guards decided to leave their position one day in December. A few others followed and clashed with the Japanese police.

A wage dispute, along with other discriminations the Cikasuans had harbored, led to an armed conflict between the Japanese military and the Cikasuan people. Both sides suffered casualties, and the Cikasuans were violently suppressed. Eventually, they were forced to give in when the Japanese cut off their food resources and destroyed their homes.

By the time the conflict came to an end in early 1909, the Cikasuan people had all fled or been relocated to several different villages. Today, the Cikasuans scatter in at least six communities in Hualien.

It is an incident that most Cikasuans now know of but not familiar with. To raise awareness, Sra and his colleagues focused on the migration of the Cikasuan peoples rather than the conflict itself. They interviewed elders about the incident, documenting their stories through the lens of individuals’ personal experiences. Some of the elders are eager to tell their stories, and some, Sra said, are still unwilling to revisit or discuss their painful memories.

The team partnered with researchers to reconstruct a more complete history of the incident that includes Cikasuans’ experience escaping their original community. Sra said as a member of an indigenous community, he hopes academics who are researching on indigenous issues can share their results with the communities.

“We don’t always have the access to learn about history like this,” he said.

Now, commemorations are held in the Cikasuan community to remind people the hardship their predecessors’ endured during the migration. Every December, they would go on a trip and follow the path where their ancestors escaped from the original Cikasuan village. Sra said it allows young indigenous people to connect with their own communities and their history.

“Then you will know who you are; you will know where you come from,” Sra added.

Sra brought his son, Upic, with him on a trip where they followed the Cikasuans’ 1908 migration.

Sra remembers that one year, the weather was especially cold and wet. He was crossing the Mugua River, carrying all the gears and his son, Upic, on his shoulders.

“Upic said to me, ‘dad, is the water cold?’ I told him ‘no, just sit still, dad will protect you,’” Sra recalled. “And then I thought about our ancestors who escaped the Cikasuan battle in 1908. Maybe one of the fathers also told his kid the same thing. It’s really hard to describe that feeling…when you’re running for your and your family’s survival.”

The community gathers together to commemorate the Cikasuan Battle of 1908.

Calling for Young People’s Return

Some young people are, indeed, coming back.

Fuday Ciyo, or Lin Kuang-liang, is one of them. A Pangcah (阿美族), Fuday grew up in the Ceroh community (織羅部落) in Hualien but left his hometown for university. When he was a kid, he considered it normal that the community was left with the elderly and children. It was until Fuday graduated from college that he realized the reality: his hometown is losing its young people.

He wanted to stay, but due to career prospects and job opportunities, Fuday chose to relocate to Taitung, a neighboring city.

“Do you need to physically be in Ceroh?” Fuday asked rhetorically. “It’s the heart that matters; it’s our hearts that need to stay in Ceroh,” he said, referring to young indigenous people like him. He no longer lives in the Ceroh community, but he can find ways to actively take part in community affairs.

YiBai Mavaliw, or Chuang Yung-ching, 22, said even though there are not as many young people participating in public affairs in indigenous communities, things are getting better and people her age are more willing to get involved than their previous generations. YiBai is a Pinuyumayan (卑南族) activist from the Katatipul community in Taitung (卡地布部落).

“Indigenous people are becoming more aware of our identity,” she said. “In my parents’ time, they didn’t even want to admit they are indigenous because of all the discrimination.”

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It was a time when the economy in Taiwan was growing rapidly, and her parents, like many others, left home for jobs in the cities. They missed the chance to learn and inherit the indigenous culture and the gap grew wider.

To Fuday, now a documentary filmmaker, passing down indigenous culture is the very motivation behind his first documentary, The Feather Headdress of Ceroh. What drove him to start filming is his passion to document Ceroh culture and show the future generations what the community is like so that they can follow their predecessors.

“We don’t have a written language, but I can document our culture with images,” he said.

In the documentary, he followed three generations of Pangcah people in the Ceroh village, documenting their efforts to preserve Ceroh culture through Kimolis, or River Festival (河祭), a traditional ceremony where young men recognized by the older generations are presented a feather that symbolizes their transition to men.

The film discusses how indigenous culture can be preserved when there is a conflict between traditions and modern-day lifestyle. An indigenous youth himself, Fuday tries to answer how the communities can keep young people around.

Generation Gaps

However, taking an unconventional way to revive indigenous culture is not always easy, and both Sra and Fuday encountered occasional pushbacks from the seniors in their communities.

“Older generation think we’re just fine the way we are now, but the younger generations in our community want changes. We want to take an initiative to preserve our culture and language,” Sra said.

Just like any other communities, generation gaps exist among different groups of indigenous peoples. Sra feels hopeful that young people are returning home, however, he said there is also a gap between their expectation and what the communities are really like.

For young people who left home to study or work, years of absence often creates a disparity between impression and reality. They remember their hometown from their childhood memory, but it can be very different from what it is now, Sra said. Sometimes, when they return to their communities, they want to make changes immediately.

“Our communities have existed for such a long time, and it’s natural that they will change,” Sra explained. “What you see is what your community has evolved into after all the changes, communication and negotiation.”

Young people mean well to want to contribute to their communities, but, he said, they cannot just go ahead and change the way people live. His advice is to join the youth committees in their communities first and learn how things are done. Taking part in the discussions will give them a better judgement of whether what they want is really something the community needs.

Now in his 20s, Fuday understands young people’s urge to give back to their communities after years of being away from home.

“But sometimes it’s dangerous that you only have passion but little understanding of your own community,” Fuday said. “A community has its own system and way of doing things, you need to contribute by following the culture. Rather than destroying it.”

The Feather Headdress of Ceroh is his way to contribute after all these years of learning and relearning his culture.

“I can’t always be in the community – we need to make a living – but we can find a way to make sure people back home know that we young people are around,” he said.

This is his way – their way – to stay.

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Ketagalan Media is a team of entrepreneurial journalists and creatives dedicated to building the gateway for ideas and trends connecting Taiwan, Asia and the world.

Original content can be found at the website of Ketagalan Media: Indigenous Communities in Taiwan Call for Young People’s Return

This article is reproduced under the permission of Ketagalan Media. It presents the opinion or perspective of the original author / organization, which does not represent the standpoint of CommonWealth magazine.