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There once was a field
Every month I make my way back to visit my relatives in our 4 story concrete townhouse filled with 10 people, 3 families, and 3 generations. Upon entering the backdoor , I’m met with my a-ma (grandma) welcoming me back with the same familiar phrase:
“涵儒、你回來了喔!”
(han ru, you’re back!)
I spend most of my time with my grandparents, listening to stories of the past and getting tips on what food to eat to keep myself healthy. With countless stories told throughout the years, I can’t help but feel humbled by our history. A story of a postman and a farmer that found love. But to tell the story, I’d have to start from the very beginning, the beginning of the life of two farmers.
The only picture left of my grandmother's family
Back in the 1940s, my a-ma and her family owned a patch of land in northern Taiwan, 樹林 (shulin). This allowed them to sustain a life through growing food and exchanging goods with neighbors. Nobody really had money and money was never really needed.
Ama and her brother
“back then, this entire area used to just be farmlands” said a-ma
樹林 (shulin) where my grandparents currently reside has changed a lot throughout the years. From farmland to industrialized area, urbanization has washed away all remanence of life with the land.
拇指插秧器 (thumb rice-transplanter)
Every February, her family would go to the local farmer’s association (農會) to collect rice plants that would later be harvested in June, then again in October. The farming system at the time was simple - It was based on trust. You go in to collect your rice plants and return a portion of your harvest as payment. No contract, money, or paper works were involved. Afterwards, a specialized group of workers would be hired to transplant the rice as they required a skillful hand. Tools like the 拇指插秧器 (thumb rice-transplanter) were used to streamline the process. Meanwhile, they would simultaneously be making natural fertilizers from cow dung and weeds pulled from the farm, later nourishing the rice paddies.
Farming was a communion activity and everyone had to learn to harvest, thresh, and dry rice. Neighbors treated each other like families. Everybody knew each other and there were never any shortages of helping hands.
As they wait for the rice to grow, they plant vegetables such as radishes, bok choys, or seasonal vegetables that sustain them year after year. With so much vegetables around, one must get creative with them. She learned to pickle, dehydrate, and ferment vegetables like radish and bamboos. A practice that has translated to staple dishes in our family today.
Upon harvesting rice, they would make a trip to their local 土地公, the god of soil and land, to make an offering in exchaneg for the abundant food and protection of their land. Offerings like golden papers and fruits would often be brought to the shrine.
There is simplicity in living with the land, your land. A time when living meant nurturing your land and understanding the mutual responsibility to keep each other healthy. As i’ve come on this journey to understand my roots, I can only imagine the simplicity and hardship of this laborious love. To be patient, to put in the work. These are now lived experience that's fading away with every new buildings being put up.
This is my attempt at documenting their history, my history.