Nevertheless, during the ceremony celebrating the new street name, it was a different group of Pingpu, the Kavalan, who sang. Only a single representative of the Ketagalan--the true masters of the day--was in attendance.
What kind of circumstances caused them to disappear from the long, twisting trail of history, forgotten by the vast majority of Taiwanese? And who are the Ketagalan people of today?
In the early morning of March 21, the signs on the thoroughfare that for the last fifty years has been known as Chiehshou Road, which directly approaches the front entrance of the Presidential Palace and runs straight east to Chingfu Gate, were formally changed to read "Ketagalan Boulevard." With the opinions of the government and the public polarized on the issue, even the Taipei Guest House, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Kuomintang Central Headquarters, all situated on that thoroughfare, received new address plates.
A civil servant, one of the first to feel the effects of the change, wrote a letter to a newspaper expressing his dissatisfaction with the "new" name: "It's long and hard to read, and I don't know what it means." On the same day, however, on a different page of the same newspaper, the writer Ping Lu commented that this was a bountiful and significant opportunity to at least let everyone reflect upon the dominant role in society played by Han Chinese.
Looking back in history, the entire area starting from Taipei's Po-ai District--where the Presidential Palace and other national governmental buildings are located--and radiating out to Taipei's western and southern districts, used to be named Dajiala. In the earliest period of Taiwan history, it was said to be the hunting grounds of the Ketagalan and an official site for worshipping their ancestors. Although no evidence has been uncovered to verify this story, most scholars agree that before the great wave of Han Chinese migration to Taiwan that began 400 years ago, the entire area of northern Taiwan as far north as Keelung and as far south as Taoyuan was the domain of the Ketagalan people.
From stars to supporting players
The area of coastline nearby what is today Sandiao Cape in Kungliao Rural Township is said to have been the location of Sandiao Village, the first settlement of the Ketagalan after they landed on Taiwan. Therefore, the vicissitudes of Sandiao Village's history are a reflection in miniature of the fate of the Ketagalan people.
The citizens of Sandiao Village made their livelihood from the sea. But because the northeast tip of Taiwan has a large number of natural harbors, they were destined to encounter a good many "uninvited guests," wild and full of adventurous spirits.
The place name "Sandiao" is actually derived from a European name. According to historical records, in 1626 (the sixth year of the Ming dynasty's Tianqi reign), the Spanish first set foot on Taiwan at this point, christening it "Cabo Santiago." The Minnan-speaking Chinese translated the name as "Sandiao," and later on the Chinese characters were altered to render the same pronunciation in Mandarin. Thus the nearby village of Sandiao also gained its name.
In the early years of the Qing dynasty, Han Chinese, coming primarily from the Zhangzhou area of Fujian, began to open up farmland around Sandiao. Wu Sha of Zhangpu, who was later deified as the founding father of Ilan, was one of these. Most of them were bachelors who rented land from the indigenous people, and as they set down roots, took indigenous women for brides. This was the origin of the popular saying, "There are Chinese husbands but no Chinese wives."
During that era, piracy was rampant. National Taiwan Normal University professor Wen Chen-hua explains that during the Jiaqing reign (1796-1821), the famous "Cai Qian Incident" took place. Starting at Ilan, this notorious brigand embarked westward along the coast, looting and pillaging. Sandiao Village did not escape the onslaught.
Today it is impossible to know how Sandiao's indigenous inhabitants of the time viewed these outside intruders, but history reveals that the people of Sandiao indeed moved incessantly inland from the coast.
When Pan Huo-yen, a Ketagalan descendant who lives in Kungliao Rural Township's New Sandiao, touches upon this period of history, he becomes very animated. He even refers to the other side as "barbarians." His ancestors originally lived in "Old Sandiao" by the sea. Later on they were unable to fight off those "Meizhou barbarians" (the Wu clan from Meizhou) and moved to the "aboriginal hills." But again they encountered some mountain bandits named Yang, and the entire village, led by Pan Chin-shan, the last chief of the Ketagalan, had no choice but to move to "New Sandiao," now mostly incorporated into Shuangyu Village.
The Kategalan ancestors also left behind an admonishment--never marry anyone surnamed Wu. But by now very few people know this. Not far from the coast can be found a spirit temple, built at the site of some old graves. Unaware of the true origins of the dead, some Han Chinese sought to placate the ghosts they feared were left unattended and lonely. A few years ago, when the Liuhecai numbers game swept over all of Taiwan, the temple was particularly dense with the smoke of joss sticks. Pan Huo-yen says that this is actually the burial spot of the bones of his tribesmen who died struggling against the Wu clan of Meizhou.
In this way, the Han Chinese who seized the farm land upcountry gradually became the powerful players in economic activities and culture. In addition, the Japanese arrived at Sandiao Cape in 1895, and for the next half century, all of Taiwan fell under the influence of the Empire of the Rising Sun. The voice of Taiwan's original inhabitants finally resonated only in the blood that circulated through their own limbs.
Remembrance lost
Today, most of the buildings on either side of the asphalt road that runs through New Sandiao are old-fashioned square concrete houses, weathered and harboring long histories. Like most rural areas all over Taiwan, this is a little town deserted by young people. They say that at its height, 300 or 400 households lived here; now there are only eleven or twelve.
Atop Lin Chin-po's head is a dark blue baseball cap given him by the Kungliao Rural Township Public Affairs Bureau. The tips of a few white hairs slip out from under the edge of his cap, as he greets us in a calm, dignified manner. In his hand he holds a bamboo staff, on the front end of which he has used metal wire to bind two iron rods similar to arrowheads or javelin points. He usually uses the staff to catch rats that steal crops, and it can also be employed as a fishing spear.
From Ilan he married into the Chien family and acquired their surname. His wife was an adopted daughter of the Chiens (who are possibly of Zhangzhou stock). Her maiden name is Chao. She stresses that she herself is not a Pingpu aborigine, but because she was taken from her natural mother when she was three, she does not have the slightest recollection of the Chaos' origin or history. Compared to talking about their vague and remote ancestors, the elderly couple seem far more enthused about discussing the personal hardships they experienced during the era of Japanese rule.
Next to a gourd rack at the side of the road, a little lane creeps up to the court in front of Pan Yu-hui's home. Right now it is full of seaweed gathered from the coast and drying in the sun. To one side is a deserted and dilapidated stone house, said to be built by Pan Chin-shan, the last chief of the Ketagalan. Pan Yu-hui is his grandniece.
This patriarchal lady well over 80 is the eldest member of New Sandiao. When she opens her mouth to speak, one can only see her lower set of teeth. She is asked, where do your ancestors come from? Have you ever heard anyone talk about the Pingpu people? Can you still speak any indigenous languages? The old lady simply repeats an answer that seems to mean nothing at all: "I'm old, I don't remember anything." Finally, she apathetically turns her head in the other direction and stares at the television that blares out an endless Taiwanese drama.
Who is mending history?
Even if most of the descendants of the Ketagalan have forgotten their own identity, according to an investigation by Lin En-shean, a professor at National Chengchi University's Graduate Institute of Ethnology, in the wake of the recent increasing social emphasis on "native soil," meaning a new esteem for local Taiwanese culture, the atmosphere in society toward minority ethnic groups has evolved from prejudice and taboo to respect. More and more people are willing to publicly acknowledge their indigenous ancestry, or even consider it an honor.
Yang Nan-chun, a Han Chinese scholar, frequently uses the expression, "He must have Siraya blood in his veins." And one topic stirred up by changing the name of Chiehshou Road is: The presently elected president Lee Teng-hui may possibly have Ketagalan blood himself, because his home town is Sanchih Rural Township in Taipei County, the old stomping grounds of the Ketagalan.
Lin En-shean also mentions that after the lifting of martial law, competition among political parties was promoted, and public policy regarding indigenous people's rights improved. These were additional incentives for indigenous people to declare their identities.
With the influence of the media and increased convenience in transportation, this trend gained common currency in New Sandiao too.
Pan Huo-yen says that in the past he had never heard of the Ketagalan people; he only knew that he was an "aborigine." Only five or six years ago did he hear the term Ketagalan from scholars visiting New Sandiao to do field research on Pingpu aborigines. It was not that the memory had been lost--the term itself was originally an academic classification. The so-called Gaoshan ("high mountain") people and the Pingpu ("plains") people, as well as finer divisions in classification, were all formulated by Japanese anthropologists for purposes of research, and based on linguistic distinctions. The indigenous people themselves only had a personal identification with their own village, and did not have a "tribal" perspective.
Lin Sheng-yi, whose father is Fujian Chinese, also identifies himself as a Ketagalan. Though he considers himself "a traitor to my father" for saying so, "my mother's bloodline is superior." Pan Huo-yen and he are first cousins. One living in New Sandiao, one living in Keelung, they are currently the two activists most energetically promoting the rebirth of Ketagalan culture.
Two years ago, preparations were being made for Taiwan's fourth nuclear power plant, to be built in Kungliao Rural Township. When they began digging, they uncovered objects suspected of being ancient relics of the Ketagalan. Pan Huo-yen blocked the excavating machines with his own body, and the photograph of this act became a symbol of the conflict between culture and economic development. Ever since that incident, government personnel, cultural workers and reporters have constantly visited the spot in ever-increasing numbers to try to understand what "Ketagalan culture" is.
In front of the entrance plaza of the Tsejen Temple, the largest religious center of New Sandiao, two brand-new iron-plated plaques have been erected under the guidance of the Ketagalan Cultural History Survey Team founded by Lin Sheng-yi. The plaques give a simple explanation of the changing history of Sandiao Village, and a translation of the Qing dynasty emperor's boundary marker bestowing a "barbarian realm" to Pan Chin-shan. The plaques were hung to facilitate the demands of visitors. When accepting a request for an interview, Pan Huo-yen remarks, "You want to ask about the Ketagalan? By now I really understand them." It's obvious he has a grip on visitor's wishes and tastes.
Their tentacles even stretch out to the international community. Although to this day the ROC government has yet to recognize their minority status, the Ketagalans have gone to the United Nations and registered as indigenous people of Taiwan. They have also posted pertinent information on the Internet.
Gray areas
Nevertheless, because in the past they lacked written historical records, and the older generation's memories have already become unclear, many gray areas in fact exist within so-called "Ketagalan culture," and many aspects are intertwined with the cultures of the Han Chinese or the nearby Kavalan people.
For example, the idol reverently placed under an altar in the Tsejen Temple is a Taoist "Tiger God." Yet it is thought to be a stone image used by the Ketagalan ancestors as a ballast for their boat when they fled mythological calamity long ago. Likewise, the totems viewed locally as Ketagalan "child gods" are not entirely unique. Similar picture-like wooden carvings have been discovered in the Taiwan Provincial Museum's holdings. According to research by Juan Chang-jui, chief of the museum's anthropology division, they were pillars or horizontal beams used by Kavalan people in men's lodges for rites of passage to manhood.
Lin Sheng-yi has even combined various ideas concerning the Bible and extraterrestrial beings to formulate a belief that the Ketagalan actually ruled the earth when the world was first created. For six or seven years, relying on his own "intuition" toward his ancestors, he has traversed nearly every mountain ridge in Taiwan seeking the remains of the "Ketagalan Kingdom." Most recently, he announced the discovery of a pyramid in the Tatun mountains north of Taipei. Even if Lin's declarations and behavior seem preposterous in the eyes of others, he remains unchanged, absolutely confident in his own "story."
Because what he says can simply not be proven, professional scholars, particular about evidence and methodology, have all distanced themselves from him. Lin Sheng-yi insists that the planned site of a relay station for the fourth nuclear power plant is the place where the Ketagalan ancestors fired pottery and forged iron, but an analytical report from the Academia Sinica rejects his claims.
Rebirth of those that have never vanished
The fervent spirit with which the descendants of the Ketagalan wish to grasp ahold of the past is not difficult to comprehend. Nevertheless, it is overly biased to assume that their culture has already "vanished." Wen Chen-hua turns the coin on its head, asking, now that many Han Chinese customs are no longer followed, does that mean Han culture has vanished?
Culture is a living thing that constantly absorbs various different influences, and aspects of different cultures can mutually coexist. He therefore would prefer to observe the mutual interaction of Ketagalan and outside cultures from a perspective of "rebirth."
New Sandiao's largest place of worship, the Tsejen Temple, holds to a faith of the Han Chinese. Nonetheless, the origins of a carved wooden Mazu idol provide a number of clues to Ketagalan history and culture.
Legend has it that during the Daoguang reign (1821-1851) of the Qing dynasty, the old lady Pan Ku-lu who lived in New Sandiao picked up this carving from among the rocks along the beach and brought it home to worship. However, she did not know how to venerate it properly, so she arbitrarily hung it under the eaves of the public house used to worship the ancestors. Then that night Mazu appeared before her and reprimanded her. Later they built a separate temple in her honor. Wen Chen-hua considers this to be evidence that at the time the residents of Sandiao Village had already gradually come to believe in the gods of the Han.
On the wall of the temple are carved the names of many people who donated funds for its construction. Pan Huo-yen especially points out the words, "The 21 Members of Sandiao Village's Imperial Defense Brigade." He says that in 1790 a defense brigade was set up by the Qing court in Sandiao Village, consisting of those 21 men. The brigade continued up to the beginning of the Japanese era. Those two short lines on the temple's wall embody a period of historical transformation.
On top of the temple, where the pillars connect to the eaves, sits a winged idol, and above the couplets on either side of the gate there are ornamental patterns that look at once like bats and frogs. These are all little peepholes into Ketagalan culture.
Facing history, facing the future
Searching in the past for one's ethnic identity is a romantic notion, a nostalgic dream. However, after shouldering the "burden" of history, what kind of reality is there to return to?
On May 20, the day of the presidential inauguration, attorneys from the Taipei County prosecutor's office visited Kungliao to deal with a land dispute between the Yang family and Pan Huo-yen. Pan believes the Yangs unfairly occupied his clan's land, but the Yangs claim Pan's ancestors had long ago rented it to them to cultivate.
Through Lin Sheng-yi's lawyers, Pan Huo-yen filed a law suit in the courts, because he didn't want to see the history of that era repeat itself. Lin Sheng-yi notes that if this matter had happened in the past when they hadn't been conscious about the integrity and rights of their own ethnic group, they might have let it pass. But now they will never let themselves be taken advantage of again.
Pan Huo-yen's daughter Pan Meng-hsuen is studying in the third grade in elementary school. The young girl, who has the nickname of "little blackie" in school, is asked, "What kind of person are you?" She looks at her father and hesitates for a moment. Then she stretches out her pronunciation, "Keta--galan." A little timid, she immediately adds, "Is that right?"
Clearly knowing that Ketagalan has become a dead language with only some vocabulary extant, the writer still followed the question further and asked her, could she speak the language? She shook her head. Suddenly, she buried her head in her father's side, yelling "You didn't teach me, you didn't teach me...."
Perhaps today what the Ketagalan need to think about is more than just conflicts of land ownership.
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