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The Man of the Ocean: Syaman Rapongan

Writer's picture: Kenny WongKenny Wong

Updated: Jun 27, 2022

Hitchhiking in Taiwan – Lanyu (Orchid Island)



Lanyu, an outer island nestled in the southeast waters of Taiwan, is wrapped in warmth and humidity throughout the year. Of its current population of about 5,000 people, more than 4,000 belong to the indigenous Tao tribe. Their arrival on the island a century ago was accompanied with their own language and culture. Riding out into the waters on their handcrafted and distinctive “jigsaw boats”, these indigenous peoples catch flying fish during the “flying fish season” in the warmer spring and summer months. In fact, Lanyu is known as the “Hometown of Flying Fish.” Every year from mid-March to mid-October, ferries carry passengers to Lanyu and back from Taitung Fugang and Kenting Houbihu, with one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Aside from the ferry, domestic flights can be taken to Lanyu, but only 20 to 30 passengers are able to fit per flight. As there is only one flight scheduled a day, seats need to be booked around a month in advance.

It was early September when I visited. The only ferry to the island was scheduled at 7:30 am. Having bought my ticket one day prior, I went to the pier early in the morning to catch the ferry. I slept like a baby during the two-hour journey. When I stepped out onto the ferry dock, I was almost dazzled by the pure, white sunlight of Lanyu; it was the kind of sheer white you expect to envelop your senses before a faint voice starts pleading you to walk away from the light. The pier was positively crowded with people. For a minute, I looked around trying to spot the person who was supposed to pick me up but ended up having to call him. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat nervous as it rang. A soft but heavy male voice came from the other end of the line, and I instinctively glanced up. There, I saw him. At the end of the steep path, an elevated section overlooked the pier. A man sat there craning his neck, looking every bit like a sailor seeking a glimpse of a lighthouse. That man was Syaman Rapongan.


I had come to know of Syaman Rapongan through an interview I’d read that described him as an “avatar” come to life. He wore multiple hats as a writer, poet, anthropologist, and navigator, and the rich romance in each of his identities had propelled me towards making the trip just to meet him. I felt drawn by his works, incredible ocean-inspired literature that had set a standard for its kind within the Chinese literary circle. This man of the ocean drove a dilapidated car so worn down, one of its doors was perilously close to falling off. It somehow made sense to me, as it seemed to fit his raw appearance.


I addressed Mr Syaman as Teacher Syaman. An able-bodied man in his fifties, Teacher Syaman had long hair, a thick beard and dark skin, with facial features that looked distinctly indigenous. The weathered skin and deep wrinkles set on his face were a mark of his years under the sun and on the ocean. Initially, I hadn’t been able to imagine what modern life must be like for the indigenous peoples here. When Teacher Syaman said that he felt like a shaved ice treat, I was astounded. “Huh, so he actually eats shaved ice, too!” I marvelled. When we met, Teacher Syaman asked me what my Chinese name was. I told him what the characters were, and he once again introduced himself politely, “I am Syaman Rapongan.”


The Lanyu I visited had been modernized. The tribes resided in a village, where the indigenous peoples lived in two- or three-story houses. There was even a 7-11 in the neighbourhood. Teacher Syaman lived a simple life on the island, farming the Tao tribe’s staple sweet potatoes and taro with his wife. Whenever he worked in the fields he looked like an ordinary farmer, turning the soil with a hoe; his rough hands and calloused fingers didn’t look as though they belonged to a writer.

“He can’t use farming implements as well as I can, such a shame!” said Mrs Syaman during one of her breaks, as she rested in the shade of a tree. I thought Mrs Syaman looked quite cute, with her big eyes and creamy white skin. I learned that whenever Teacher Syaman left town to give lectures or participate in seminars, she would handle all the housework and farming.


The teacher took me to his house, where two cats came to greet us in the front yard: one black, one white. They were unafraid of people and sat before me, expecting pets. Mrs Syaman told me, “The door of our house is always open. You don’t need to close your doors or windows in Lanyu, but you have to be careful in Taiwan.” I peeked inside Teacher Syaman’s living room to find that it wasn’t very big. Bookshelves upon bookshelves took up every inch of visible space, each as high as the ceiling; the tables and the floor were covered almost entirely with books.


More than once during my visit, Teacher Syaman mused that the island measured only 38 kilometres long – a shorter distance than a full marathon. It takes a bit more than an hour to get around on a motorcycle - if you're only taking an Instagram photo of each attraction.


Urban people are accustomed to being surrounded by various hardware and software, including buildings, people and intangible information. Once they are not surrounded by many things, they will say, "There is nothing here." We have the most authentic life here": "Without any department stores and night markets, you can go home straight away." Without excessive prosperity and excessive services, most stores on the island only operate for a few months a year (from March or April until October); when I arrived, it was the off-season of early autumn, and many shops would be closed in the afternoon on weekdays, it was not easy to find food. Being a boss here, if you open a shop every day, you probably won’t lose money; but this is just not the style of the islanders, even if it’s an outsider from Taiwan.


The teacher spoke in a unique tone of voice which sounds a bit strange to us, he said that it was the grammar and language of the aborigines. The teacher speaks well in English with natural pronunciation. I asked him if it is easier to speak English; however English and Chinese are both foreign languages to him, and he usually speaks Dawu as his mother language but without any written words, so I couldn't understand it at all. Dawu means the language of the ocean. When the teacher writes in Chinese, he is actually translating the ocean. "My Chinese is not very good. The words I use are not my own creation, but my family's original expressions (for example, the stars are called "eyes of the sky" in his translation). "It's absolutely romantic!


Everyone on the island knows Mr Syaman well, and many people came to visit him like I did. On the way, the teacher introduced to me the stores opened by his relatives and friends. He tends to use romantic and graceful phases to describe them. "Romantic" refers to freedom of thought from his perspective, a non-utilitarian concept; as for graceful, it refers to connotation and self-cultivation.


Lanyu is surrounded by the sea, you can feel free to jump into it at any time, but the teacher told me not to go into the water alone, apart from the reason there are atolls and big rocks on the shore, more importantly: “You don’t know the currents.” Adult men in Lanyu have the ability to observe the sky, clouds, and the sea. For me, they all have magical skills. They also have a survival skill - fishing with their hands. In the past, Lanyu was short of supplies, and the aborigines only had crops and fish from the sea. Therefore, men in Lanyu s had to learn how to fish. It was a common skill to dive for a few meters with only diving goggles and fins. In different seasons, what kind of fishes men and women should eat are all knowledge that must be learned. "This is the real man in Lanyu." the teacher said.


The place where I live is in the Red Head Tribe, which is the oldest of the six tribes on the island. The aboriginal people do unite as a whole. As long as someone in the tribe died, the entire tribe (including houses and shops) will turn off the lights for three days. All buildings on the island can see the sea within three steps, a few steps down the slope, there is a restaurant that tourists and locals love to visit for breakfast. I eat breakfast there every day and listen to the locals’ conversations, it's the most interesting part of my day. Sometimes the locals looked at the clouds and said, "Ten more minutes." Then the rain really stopped, just like a prophet. Mr Syaman said that they have marine DNA in their bodies, so they understand the nature of the ocean. However, in recent years, he has also less diving into the sea. After all, it is a heavy load on his heart. He smiled and said, "Now that I am old, I have learned to be good."


At last, I stayed in Lanyu for a week. Everyday I just looked at the sea. The greatest gain from this trip was, of course, the dialogue with Mr Syaman; the wise man said: “Without the romance, there would be no literature and no philosophy.” I'm sure he is the most romantic man in Taiwan.


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