In April of 2015, on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Sandi Primary School in Sandimen Township, Pingtung County, the school was renamed “Timur,” the Paiwan name of the village. This is a very important symbol of efforts to preserve and pass along traditional culture. Even earlier, in August of 2014, a group of young people in the community, recognizing that their traditional culture was being lost, decided to launch the “Timur Youth Mobile School” (TYMS) to record the memories and customs that had once been common knowledge among the indigenous residents.
Lavuras Matilin, a 28-year-old Paiwan artist, is one of the founders of TYMS. Eleven years ago he returned to Timur to take care of his ailing mother, and discovered that young people—as a result of going to school away from home or relocating outside the community—were steadily becoming estranged from tribal traditions, while old people were passing away one after another, meaning that knowledge of traditional culture was rapidly disappearing. He got the idea for the “mobile school” two or three years ago, and when he finally brought it up with his friends, he got a very enthusiastic response. Thus TYMS took form.
After TYMS was launched in August of 2014, scattered tribal young people connected through Facebook, and in the short period of a year or so, held more than ten activities.
As for “classes,” which are organized on an ad-hoc basis, TYMS brings small children from the indigenous community to the home of a “Vuvu” (“elder” in the Paiwan language) to hear them talk about tribal traditions. The kids may also end up learning from these elders things like weaving, traditional songs or chants, or the origin stories of the tribal name.
“There are things to be gleaned from the stories the elders tell, from the places where they work… everything,” says Lavuras. The concept underlying the founding of TYMS is that the passing on and learning of traditions should be free-form, without restrictions, so that “the whole indigenous community is itself a school.”
Although Lavuras thinks of TYMS as an experiment, and no one knows whether it will succeed or fail as time goes on, in any case “the community has definitely become different,” he says.
At my home, I will gently sing for you
A concert held in January of this year, entitled “At My Home, I Will Gently Sing For You,” was especially encouraging to TYMS members.
Ljuzem Tjaljialep, 29, who is currently a graduate student of ethnomusicology at Tainan National University of the Arts, was the moving force behind the concert. Having attended schools away from home since she was small, Ljuzem, who frequently travels back and forth between the city and Timur, continually thought about how she could take what she learned at school and do something positive for her community. After joining TYMS last year, she proposed the idea of a concert to Lavuras. To her surprise he readily assented, and the concert for their hometown quickly took shape.
The concert site was a meadow just below Lavuras’s studio. The stage was built out of discarded materials, and drinks off to one side were provided by young indigenous people who had returned home and founded their own businesses. The musical accompaniment on stage was provided by a piano, made available by Lavuras’s childhood piano teacher in exchange for a table made of genuine wood, the kind of barter which, Lavuras points out, “was the typical method of interaction in traditional tribal society.”
More than 200 people gathered for the event. The musical offerings ranged from classical to rock to indigenous folk songs, allowing the three generations—elderly, adult, youth—to feel closer to one another. It was an opportunity for dialogue between the traditional and the contemporary.
Know thyself: Creativity comes from within
As they are lighting the flame of cultural renaissance, many young indigenous people also undertake a personal mini-revolution in which they get to know themselves and search for their identity. This was so for Ljuzem Tjaljialep, who moved away from her indigenous community at a young age and studied and grew up at a distance.
In the music classes she took all the way from primary school though university, Ljuzem was the only Aboriginal student. Her unique status always made her classmates curious, and the question she was asked most often was, “Where are you from?” Though queried repeatedly, she didn’t even know the answer herself.
It was only through a series of coincidences—testing into the Department of Ethnomusicology at Tainan National University of the Arts, coming into contact with the Lima Taiwan Indigenous Youth Working Group, returning to Timur three years ago because her grandmother was ill—that Ljuzem Tjaljialep finally began filling in the fragmented picture she had of herself and her hometown’s traditions.
The concert held in early January of 2015 is still a cherished memory for many, but for Ljuzem it was an unforgettable performance. Given her background as a music major in university, she has never lacked for performance opportunities, so being on stage is quite routine for her. But for the Timur concert, she had a special reason to be nervous: “After so many years away, to have this concert before the people of my hometown, I was very worried: Would the members of the tribe accept me as one of their own?”
Returning to the community was just the first step for Ljuzem in her search for her real self. In the future she has an even larger objective. Recently, young indigenous people from all over Taiwan have actively participated in bringing tribal cultures to the international stage. And prior to this, the Lima Taiwan Indigenous Youth Working Group had attended the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. Ljuzem has similar dreams.
Although she has been back home for less than three years, Ljuzem Tjaljialep already realizes that long-fading tribal traditions cannot be revitalized in a short time. But in the future she hopes to take the music of her hometown to the International Council for Traditional Music, which devotes special attention to the music of minority peoples around the world. “I want to bring out our own style to be seen by everybody.”
For Lavuras, himself an artist, the creative “nutrients” that he carries around with him like a genetic inheritance come from the community. “If these nutrients disappear, then we are nothing,” he says.
Lavuras’s father is the well-known Paiwan artist Masegege Matilin. After Lavuras returned home to look after his sick mother, he and his two elder sisters succeeded to his father’s studio.
Besides operating the studio day to day, Lavuras has created many large-scale installation artworks that convey his reflections and observations on the culture and life of the indigenous community. His creations escape from the Aboriginal cultural memes that are so often seen by outsiders. He no longer employs the “100-pace snake” and other oft-used Taiwan Aboriginal images in his work, but instead aims to incisively manifest the human interactions as they really happen in today’s indigenous community.
The installation work Kala Are You OK? that Lavuras exhibited in 2014 at the Songshan Cultural and Creative Park in Taipei is a work inspired by something that Lavuras saw repeatedly during community recreational events: karaoke. He explains that the theme of the work is “communication.” Because people are not especially good at communicating, they have to rely on other means to give vent to their feelings and express the things they want to say, and karaoke is one such means.
As Lavuras concludes: “Despite the fact that this piece has no typical Aboriginal cultural symbols, the soul of the work derives from the community.” As the young people of Timur and other indigenous communities strive to maintain an identity of their own, whatever outward forms this identity may take, it is this “soul” to which they must remain firmly anchored.
As you enter Timur Aboriginal community in Sandimen, you can see borrowings from traditional indigenous aesthetics all around. Examples include structures with stacked-flagstone facades (in imitation of traditional Paiwan and Rukai homes), and wood sculptures.
As you enter Timur Aboriginal community in Sandimen, you can see borrowings from traditional indigenous aesthetics all around. Examples include structures with stacked-flagstone facades (in imitation of traditional Paiwan and Rukai homes), and wood sculptures.
As you enter Timur Aboriginal community in Sandimen, you can see borrowings from traditional indigenous aesthetics all around. Examples include structures with stacked-flagstone facades (in imitation of traditional Paiwan and Rukai homes), and wood sculptures.
Paiwan artist Lavuras Matilin gets inspiration for his creative work from both the traditions and the modern way of life of his indigenous community. The photo at left shows young people from Timur performing a “warrior dance” as part of the Harvest Festival in August.
Paiwan artist Lavuras Matilin gets inspiration for his creative work from both the traditions and the modern way of life of his indigenous community. The photo at left shows young people from Timur performing a “warrior dance” as part of the Harvest Festival in August.
Early in 2015, members of the Timur Youth Mobile School organized a concert entitled “At My Home, I Will Gently Sing for You” that ranged from traditional folk music to classical music. The event appealed to all age groups, helping the elderly, middle-aged, and younger generations to come closer together. (courtesy of TYMS)
The young people of Timur have launched an experiment in which “the community is our school.” Whatever happens in the long run, there is already a new vibe being felt in the community itself
