I saw this notice stuck on a traffic light from the bus this morning.
These notices are stuck along lamp posts and walls when a temple parade is going to pass by this area. As well as including the blessings 「國泰民安」(a secure country and safety for the people), 「合境平安」(Peace for everyone and everything), 「風調雨順」(No rain or wind) and a fourth I can’t quite make out 「? 去? 千 ?」, the basic information is listed:
「店仔街福德宮
福德正神謹訂於
農曆106年2月2日9時
國曆106年2月27日9時
蹺境、出巡 」
Dianzai Street (lit. Vendor Street) God of the Earth Temple Notice
The God of the Earth (also known by the name Tudigong, but here Fudezhengshen) is set
on the 2nd day of the 2nd month of the 106th year (sic.) of the lunar calendar
on the 2nd day of the 2nd month of the 106th year of the Republic of China
to tour the streets on inspection.
What should be noted here, is that according to the lunar calendar, this is the 丁酉 year, not the 106th year (a borrowing from the National calendar).
There’s also what I think is probably either a mistake, or an attempt to render the notice in Taiwanese, with the use of the character 「蹺」 (qiao1) instead of 「遶」 or 「繞」 (both variants of each other) in the phrase 「繞境」。
A quick Google search can confirm that it was probably a mistake, as there are only 1,390 results for 「蹺境」 overall, and only one result in a news search. Whereas 「遶境」 produces 515,000 results overall, and 85,200 results in a news search, and 「繞境」 produces 423,000 results overall, and 17,700 results in a news search.
Here’s a few couplets and Chinese New Year decorations from around my neighbourhood:
「心靜自得詩書味,室雅時開翰墨香」 “With a steady heart, finding joy by oneself in poetry and scholarship, one can smell the ink and brush in the elegant surroundings.”
「修雙慧福」、「修福粒米藏日月,持慧亳芒有乾坤」
“Cultivating both wisdom and merit”, “By cultivating merit, a grain of rice can block the sun and the moon, by cultivating wisdom, the tiniest hair can hold the universe”
Incidentally, this has been announced as the official slogan of 2017 by Tzu Chi (慈濟), one of the most renowned Buddhist organizations and charities in Taiwan.
For me this film doesn’t work for completely the opposite reason that another film by this director, Ice Poison, didn’t work. Whereas Ice Poison is centred around the rather hackneyed trope of “young man led astray by damaged young girl”, this film is rather unclear in its voice and direction.
The film is underlaid with a pseudo-neo-colonial gaze, as much of it is pure exposition aimed at a Taiwanese audience, what people earn in relation to wages in Taiwan, what the different smuggled Chinese imports cost etc. This is not an unworthy goal, given that South East Asian workers are reported to have faced substantial discrimination and exploitation when employed in Taiwan and China, but I’m not sure if this makes the film interesting beyond its Taiwanese context. Otherwise the kind of poverty that they suffer, although awful, is rather unexceptional: the struggle to find work and support oneself and one’s family.
Temple; Source: Return to Burma
Not much happens in the film and I felt that, although the director might be aspiring to capture the fatalistic outlook of the characters in Hou Hsiao-hsien’s films in the face of tragedy, the tragedies seemed too distant from the core of the film to give the impassivity of the protagonist any gravity in contrast. We hear his sister was kidnapped and forced to marry an older Chinese man, but she’s resigned herself to her circumstances and is wealthier than the rest of her family now, with two kids that she loves (interestingly Ice Poison shows us a woman who makes a different choice, in that she runs away from her husband in China and, long story short, she ends up in jail for drug-dealing (moral lesson: stay with your kidnapper?)). While I might criticize that sentiment, it underlines the desperate poverty of many of the people featured in his films. It’s also a common trope in the Chinese anti-modernist tradition, in which writers like Shen Cong-wen suggested that though tradition might seem overly exploitative or repressive of a certain group or class (i.e. women), the discretionary power inherent in traditional social relations tended to mitigate this harshness in everyday practice and that “modernity” could actually be more repressive in its lack of this discretionary power (see his short story 〈蕭蕭〉).
There is no real exploration of the political state of Myanmar (Burma) in the film (it occurs in the run-up to substantial political change) and the regime is largely invisible, other than the rather amusing pro-government songs that play, praising the new congress and a vague reference to strict anti-smuggling measures. This in a way reinforces the neo-colonial idea that the film is aimed solely at creating “Taiwanese guilt” for the way they take advantage of this poverty, which, although it may have some merit, doesn’t do anything to address any of the domestic causes of this poverty. Nor is there any exploration of the ethnic conflicts that have surfaced in the country over the last decades. This means that the telling of this story of poverty is so universal, that it would have had to take a more interesting narrative line or adopted a more interesting technique to keep it from being a rather monotonous retelling of what we’ve all heard before. I almost feel that Ice Poison was an attempt at breaking from this monotony by staging a romance, it’s just a pity that it felt so… staged.
New Power Party chair Huang Kuo-chang marching on Ketagalan Boulevard in protest against a meeting between former Taiwanese president Ma Ying-jeou and Xi Jin-ping; NPP legislator and rock star Freddy Lim can be holding the banner behind him; Licensed under Creative Commons by 蕭長展 – https://musou.tw/focuses/1040
An article in the Oriental Daily News drew my attention to something I thought was quite amusing – a man called Wang Chao-an (王朝安), who reportedly has no relation to the New Power Party has trademarked their party emblem for use on a whole range of products, including clothing, backpacks, stationary and jewelry products, such as earrings, necktie pins and key-rings. He applied for the registration in May of 2016.
The registration with the trademark office is as below:
While the party emblem is a strikingly similar rendering of the character “力” meaning “power” or “strength”
The party intend to make a request for the registration to be cancelled with the trademark office through their lawyer, according to the report.
I thought this clip from Democratic Progressve Party legislator Wu Bing-rui (吳秉叡) talking about New Power Party legislator Huang Kuo-chang (黃國昌)was quite amusing. Huang backed out of signing an agreement on the 7 day holiday bill and insisted on changing the language from “completed examination (of the bill)” to “examination”, supposedly due to pressure from labor groups, much to the chagrin of the majority leader of the Legislative Yuan Ke Chien-ming (柯建銘). Ke then called Huang a 「媽寶」 or “mummy’s boy”. The change in the language doesn’t really do much to the content of the bill, as it has the same effect with or without the word “completed”. Wu has taken a lot of flak for his defiant response to protests by labor groups.
Without even the Jianghu honor code/Without even the honor code of the mafia
This is the same as in Mandarin. Jianghu can refer to the community of martial artists in martial arts fiction novels or alternatively to the mafia. So essentially Wu is saying that the New Power Party don’t even have the honor code of the mafia. I thought this was a bit of a gaffe, given that it unintentionally implies that the DPP functions with an honor code like that of the mafia, hardly a comparison they really want to be making at this point.
In that instant, I thought of my father carrying a big bag of his things on his back, with his electric drill, his hammer and countless other tools I don’t even know the name of inside. Under contract from the moneyed classes to build the city of Taipei, he consulted the architect’s blueprint and listened to the instructions of the foreman, before, just like the scaffolding and walls of plants from the building site, weathered by the wind and rain then scorched by the sun until hollowed out, he returns to obscurity, sheepishly withdrawing from the city, allowing these symbols of grandeur to establish themselves there.
It was he who built this city, but he who is held beyond its limits.
節錄自《第18屆臺北文學獎得獎作品集》
This kind of prose always repels me to some extent, although I admire the imagery of the scaffolding. One reason for this is because I always think that overtly political art (with the possible exception of newspaper cartoons) generally comes across as preachy and tends to oversimplify nuanced issues. This was also one of the reasons I really didn’t like a lot of the work of theatre director Wang Molin. Another reason is that it echoes a lot of the political rhetoric of trade unionists and implies a sense of unpaid debt to the imaginary working class builders, mechanics and plumbers that pepper the speeches of Conservative politicians when they’re trying to incite anger against immigrants or intellectuals. The subtext to this is an implication that newcomers to the city and non-working class people are being rewarded at the expense of working class people. This kind of notion is often what feeds the xenophobia and inter-class resentment that featured heavily in both the Brexit referendum campaigns and in the recent US election campaign by Donald Trump.
Despite this, I do have sympathy for the chip on the shoulder view of Taipei that many people from central and southern Taiwan have, as I had the same chip on my shoulder when visiting London from Belfast growing up. Lots of people in Taiwan call Taipei the 「天龍國」 and Taipei citizens 「天龍人」. This is a term suggesting that they are elitist and look down on others. It takes its origins in the term “World Nobles” (Japanese: 天竜人 Tenryūbito)from Japanese manga One Piece and literally means “Heavenly Dragon Folk”, snobby arrogant elites who serve as the world government in the manga.
I spotted this word used in three places in the second of the Human Condition (《人間條件》) series of plays, ‘Her and the Men in Her Life’, by Wu Nien-chen.
The first situation is when a man discovers his wife, from a Taiwanese-speaking family) is capable of speaking Mandarin well:
Yuki: When I say “I’m the legislator’s wife” I even remember to curve my tongue for the consonants.
Her husband is taken aback and is silent for a moment.
The husband: How capable you are. Since this is the case, you should teach the children Beijing-style Mandarin while you’re at it. Anyone who can’t get by in Beijing-style Mandarin won’t be able to make it in society…
Pronounced gâu, the “gau” above is equivalent to “能幹” in Mandarin and “capable” or “skilled” in English.
The second instance is an exchange between two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. One of them has gone from selling clothes in a market to heading up a company and is being modest about it:
Yuki: Last time I saw you, you were selling blouses at a market… and now in the blink of an eye, at the very least you’re an entrepreneur… Whatever the case you seem to have gone through a lot…
Wu Hsiung: It was just a good opportunity, it’s not that I’m particularly talented…
The third instance is as follows:
Yuki:你兒子開7-11哦?幾間?三間……哪會麼gau……
《人間條件2:她與她生命中的男人們》臺北市: 圓神文叢,2007年。
Which translates to:
Yuki: Your son opened a 7-11? How many stores? Three… Who knew he was so capable…
The gâu also features in the phrase 假gâu (ké-gâu) for “trying to be clever” which I previously posted on.
This time it’s a reader contribution. My former co-worker snapped this poem on the MRT and sent it to me. The poem was written by Chuang Tsu-huang (莊祖煌 pinyin: Zhuang Zuhuang) who goes under the pen-name Bai Ling (白靈). He was born in Taipei’s Wanhua District in 1951 to a family from Fujian in China. After studying chemistry in Taiwan and teaching for a while, he went to the US to study a master’s at the Stevens Institute of Technology. He is currently a professor at National Taipei University of Technology and at one time took part in a grassroots poetry collective, including a period as the editor of a grassroots poetry publication. He has won a plethora of prizes for his poetry.
不如歌 Better a Song
平靜的無,不如抓狂的有
Better a manic something over a tranquil nothing
坐等升溫的露珠,不如捲熱而逃的淚水
Better a tear bubbled up in heat over a dewdrop awaiting the warmth
猛射亂放的箭矢,不如挺出紅心的箭靶
Better to land the bullseye than to loose an arrow in haste
養鴿子三千,不如擁老鷹一隻
Better a single eagle than to raise three thousand doves
被吻,不如被啄
Better to be pecked, than to be kissed
A picture of Chen Shui-bian on his release from prison with the caption “Chen Shui-bian gets out of prison and waves to his supporters to show his gratitude to them”; Source
In a discussion between panelists from the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), Kuomintang (KMT) and media commentators on whether former Taiwanese president Chen Shui-bian is too healthy to remain on medical parole from jail on TVBS’s ‘Situation Room’, the former DPP legislator Shen Fu-hsiung (沈富雄) broke into Taiwanese to try and cut through some of the political bullshit being spouted by both sides. The gist of his point was that nobody in the studio really believes that Chen Shui-bian will go back to prison during the four years the DPP are in power, so there’s no point in arguing over this or that medical report. He also says that given Chen Shui-bian is on medical parole for political reasons, then he should be less provocative about it and not argue with people. This is in reference to his argument with a street pedlar selling bread in a Kaohsiung park who filmed Chen Shui-bian walking in the park. Chen and his friend approached and threatened him with a lawsuit and an “anonymous” tip-off later caused the bread seller to get in trouble with the government. You can get a sense of the effect of Shen using Taiwanese in the middle of a conversation being conducted in Mandarin from the wry smiles of the other panelists. Use of Taiwanese in Taiwan is generally more direct and emotive than Mandarin, so it’s often used when politicians want to convey sincerity (or forthrightness). I’ve indicated the code-switching between Mandarin and Taiwanese below:
Taiwanese: 免安呢假心 biánán-níké-sim ( 不用那麼假惺惺 / Let’s not pretend )
Mandarin: 也不用定期有醫療報告 (And we don’t need regular medical reports)
Mandarin: 我們大家也不要在這裡吵來吵去 (And we don’t need all of us sitting here arguing back and forth)
Mandarin: 因為這個都是一種表態而已 (Because it only serves to show where we personally stand on the issue)
Taiwanese: 我ê感覺是按呢góaêkám-kaksīán-ní (Mandarin: 我的感覺是這樣子 / English: My feeling is)