Chen Chin-huang was born in 1952 in Hsinkang, Chiayi County. When he graduated in medicine from National Taiwan University, he thought, "Albert Schweitzer picked Lambarene in Africa as the place of his life's work. I wonder where my Lambarene is?" Two years after finishing his military service, he decided to return to his hometown, Hsinkang, and open a small clinic. His thinking was, "The point of being a doctor is to treat people. So why not serve the people you're closest to?"

Chou Chia-an was born in 1949 in Tung-shan, Ilan County. "It rains a lot in Ilan. When I was a student in Taipei, I'd always do well on tests when it rained. It felt like I was back home." After graduating from National Taiwan Normal University, he went back to Ilan to teach, and he started studying the history of the region in his spare time with several like-minded friends. "Through my research, I've come to love this spot of earth even more strongly than before. I feel like we're inseparable."

"It's not the imperial palace I dream of each night," the old song goes. "It's the days of my youth in my old hometown."'Young rock star Lin Chiang may sing with all his might, "I want to go to Taipei--and make it," but many people in their late thirties and early forties, seeing their hometowns gradually slip away from the simplicity, purity and warmth they once knew, are standing up in hope of doing something for the places they love.

It is this deep, strong affection for one's native place that lies behind the appearance of cultural and educational foundations in rural towns and communities around Taiwan in recent years.

"I come from a farming family. Most families in Hsinkang have been farming for generations," Chen relates. "The rural ethic of working from dawn to dusk, of reaping what you sow, is deeply etched in my mind.

"When the gambling craze swept southern Taiwan a few years back, every Thursday when the numbers would come out, the winners would go wild, setting off firecrackers and hiring floats to thank the gods, and lot of the losers would wind up in my clinic suffering from 'numbers-itis,' from insomnia, nausea and headaches. These were the people of my hometown. Some of them were my uncles and cousins. It just wasn't the Hsinkang I had been brought up in," Chen says, recalling what led him to set up the Hsinkang Cultural and Educational Foundation three years ago.

It happened that just that year Lin Huai-min, director of Cloud Gate Dance Ensemble, brought his company to Hsinkang to perform in his old hometown for the first time. To his surprise, all 2,800 tickets were sold out in a week. "It showed that rural people aren't averse to artistic performances," Lin says. "They just haven't been given the chance to appreciate them." Moved by their enthusiasm, he donated the box office take of NT$150,000 on the spot hoping that someone might come forward and do something more for Hsinkang over the long haul.

That was where Chen Chin-huang, who had urged the dance troupe to perform there in the first place, came in. In just two months' time he brought together a group of likeminded people and raised NT$1 million, the minimum amount needed to get the foundation off the ground. With that as the spark, things slowly started to heat up.

The spark for the Yangshan Cultural and Educational Foundation in Ilan was a group of local teachers. They were concerned that people of Ilan were losing their simplicity and innocence as they picked up the ways of the big city. What path should the town take in the future? They kept asking themselves, finally deciding they should set up a foundation.

In the first year after it was founded, the Yangshan foundation held lectures and workshops on aboriginal culture, and on the theory and practice of field research. It set up a biennial prize of NT$200,000 for persons who have made outstanding contributions to Ilan politically, environmentally, culturally or otherwise, and it offered grants to master's and doctoral candidates using Ilan as the subject of their dissertations.

"The formation of culture is strongly influenced by geographical factors," says Tsai Hsiang-hui, an associate professor of history at the Chinese Culture University who serves as a trustee to the cultural foundation in Peikang. "The significance of local cultural and educational foundations lies in bringing together people from the same area, sharing similar customs and backgrounds, to show their concern for local culture. If we aren't elementary school classmates, we may be distant cousins. We think and feel the same way. If somebody calls, we come running."

Tsai Fen-lan, executive secretary of the Matsu Cultural and Educational Foundation of Penkang (the old name of Peikang) fully agrees. "I used to work at the Chinese Association for Literature and the Arts in Taipei, where we tried to help creative writers, artists and performers. But when I'd go back to my apartment after work and find myself all alone in Taipei, I missed home. As soon as I found out they'd set up a cultural foundation in Peikang, I came back."

The oldest local cultural foundation in Taiwan is Hsinkang's, set up in 1987. Peikang's was set up in 1989, and Ilan's last year. The people of Chiayi are planning to set up the Minhsiung Cultural and Educational Foundation, and Chishan Magazine in Kaohsiung operates like a foundation in embryonic form.

Local cultural and educational foundations, formed by people who love their hometowns, are intended to serve the communities as whole. Rather than having a fixed agenda of activities, they try to cater to whatever the community wants. Art classes, workshops, lectures, libraries, performances and exhibitions are all standard fare, along with promoting folk arts and crafts and research into local history.

Among all the activities, the most popular are surely the performances. In Taipei, except for those with big-name international stars, most concerts, plays or ballets are just another drop in the cultural bucket. But in rural towns, each show receives the undivided attention of the whole populace.

When the Cloud Gate Dance Ensemble, the National Institute of the Arts, The Ju Percussion Ensemble, Unique Theater, the Taiwan Symphony Orchestra, the Ming Hwa Yuan Taiwanese Opera Company and the Flying Horse Honan Opera Company were invited to perform by the foundations in Hsinkang and Peikang, the audiences numbered in the thousands.

The Peikang foundation estimates its activities last year drew more than 22,000, not including the thousands that visited the exhibition of historical artifacts at Chao Tien Temple during the Lantern Festival. That sort of report card stacks up favorably against those of county and municipal cultural centers, which are backed by the government budget.

"Besides providing cultured entertainment, large-scale activities are a must for foundations just getting started," says Yang Tzu-chien, director general of the Peikang foundation. "On the one hand, they help establish your name, and on the other, they bring in people to join."

Yu Li-li, ex-secretary of the Hsinkang Cultural and Educational Foundation, has found that attending performances has had an educational effect on her fellow townsmen. "It was a mess at first. People came in flipflops and smoked or cracked melon seeds during the show. The children bawled or ran around and made a ruckus. People got up and left halfway through, and latecomers quarreled with volunteers who tried to keep them out until intermission. But now that they've been trained, the audiences are as orderly as any in the big city."

Her feeling is shared by Chien Shang-jen, head of the folk music ensemble Tien Yuan Yueh Fu, which performs regularly in the countryside and has played several times in Hsinkang and Peikang: "Rural audiences still behave at performances with the manners of watching an outdoor stage show. It's always hard to control order, the stage is usually in a school gymnasium or auditorium, the acoustics are poor, and the metal folding chairs make a racket. Everyone's distracted. In comparison, the audience level at Hsinkang and Peikang is so much better the performers are taken aback."

Concerts and performances are only one of the foundations' many activities: they also hold programs geared toward the special characteristics of each locality. The foundation in Hsinkang, a farming area, offers lectures on agricultural pollution; that in Peikang, a religious center, sponsors classes and exhibitions on Buddhism; and Chishan Magazine has given talks and seminars on preserving a historic section of the city.

"Activities by local people for the places they live in--that kind of initiative and drive--can fill the gaps that government cultural policies may miss," says Han Pao-teh, director of the National Museum of Natural Sciences.

Be they performances, lectures or other activities, the programs are all worth encouraging, Lin Huai-min thinks, but what is most valuable of all is getting the townspeople to interact with each other.

"Getting people to turn off their TVs and go out for the night is worth ten points. It's ten more points getting them to talk together, ten more getting them to applaud, and if they feel so good after the show they want to work for the foundation, that's a full 100."

Helping people reestablish interpersonal relationships, cultivate feelings for their hometown, expand their perspectives and foster local crafts and customs is the deepest aspiration of cultural and educational foundations. And their chief target is the leaders of tomorrow--children.

The Penkang Cultural and Educational Foundation has prepared The History of Penkang in Pictures, which teaches about children about their hometown in comic strips, and is now compiling The Records of Penkang.

The Hsinkang foundation gave a series of talks called "Learning About Your Hometown" and a course on Taiwan's pioneer days to children at Kumin Elementary School. They also brought together a group of young men to teach the children a native style of kungfu called the Sung Chiang Formation. Some parents objected at first, but now they are happy to buy their children costumes and props, and the number of students participating has grown from a single class to everyone above the third grade. The children have performed in Taipei and even the United States.

If you ask any children you meet there whether the school's Sung Chiang troupe is famous, they'll reply loudly, "It sure is!" and the children beside them will all chime in "I do it too!" "There aren't many things in the countryside that give children that much self-confidence and self-esteem," Wu Chin-sung, the teacher in charge, says with feeling.

The emphasis on children can be seen in the way the foundations were named. Chen Chin-huang insisted on calling it the Hsin- kang Cultural and Educational Foundation because "education is the basis of culture. The achievements or the foundation can't be judged until thirty or forty years from now." As soon as you step into the building and see all the children's books lying around, the children's pictures hanging on the walls, the notices for art class, calligraphy class, com position class and free tutoring, you can sense that children are the foundation's special darlings.

The focus on children is actually a bit out of desperation, in fact. "Adults are set on going home after work and watching the soaps on TV. They're the toughest group to get to,"'says Chang Jui-lung, chief officer of the Hsinkang foundation. A flower arranging class and a class on Chinese painting offered by the foundation were both cancelled due to lack of interest.

Children are different. The Hsinkang foundation's library, set up two years ago, has issued 800 cards, up from 30 at the start. "A hundred kids use the library every day on average, and 200 volumes are in circulation. It's not just kids from nearby who use the library anymore. They ride bikes here from all over," Yeh Ling-li says excitedly.

It's worth mentioning that before the library was opened, there was no place in the town to read. There are three video game parlors on the main street, but no bookstore. One of them is right across from the foundation. Children who pass by after school and open one door instead of the other may face a completely different future.

"Setting aside the benefits of the books they read at the library, all you have to do is think of where they might go if they weren't there," Lin Huai-min says. "The foundation's value is immeasurable."

At the end of last year, the officers and directors of cultural foundations from around the island came to Peikang to exchange thoughts and discovered that financial resources were their biggest common problem. The hard part isn't raising NT$1 million to start up a foundation; it's keeping up with operating costs. The interest from that amount comes out to less than NT$100,000 a year, and the personnel costs, rent and utilities of a foundation like Hsinkang's run NT$100,000 every month. That leaves expenses for the other 11 months, not to mention the costs of activities, of publicity and promotion, of transportation, etc. The more activities, the greater the financial burden.

The Hsinkang foundation, which was founded three years ago, is in fairly good shape comparatively. They raised more than NT$2 million each of the first two years, Chen says, half of it from Lin Chin-sheng, the vice president of the Examination Yuan, who himself hails from Hsinkang. "We know we can't rely on that forever, so we've started to push a movement this year where local citizens 'adopt' activities. We have more than 20 'foster parents' so far, but we're still a long ways from our goal."

"You can take your time building manpower, but you can't dillydally about covering costs. If you do, it's fini," Yang Tzu-chien remarks.

They've also thought about going after other sources of funding. Hsinkang is home to a large petrochemical plant, which could certainly be considered a likely source of funding, but "even though it might be prime source of funding, a large corporation could become a target of protest for creating pollution. Asking for money from them would jeopardize our standing. So unless the factory comes forward of its own accord, we'd better keep our distance. It's a real bind!" Yang Jui-lung exclaims.

The Matsu Cultural and Educational Foundation of Peikang received NT$2 million in funds from Chao Tien Temple when it was founded, a sum that provides nearly NT$10 million in interest every two year for use. "The temple is the religious, recreation and activity center of the community. Combining the foundation with an influential temple like that is a rather ideal formula," Tsai Hsiang- hui says.

But the formula hasn't been working so well lately. Temple leaders have demanded that the foundation work harder on re searching the temple's history, but that wasn't the intention of the officers who set up the foundation. The difference of opinion could lead to a cutoff in funds.

The Yangshan foundation in Ilan has the strongest financial backing of them all so far. The Ilan Compatriots Association contributed more than NT$3.3 million. And county chief Yu Hsi-kun turned over NT$4 million left over from his election campaign.

Their situations may be different, but local cultural and educational foundations, with local people working to raise the level of culture, is an idea that is gradually catching on. Besides the Minhsiung foundation that people in Chiayi are planning to set up this year, people from Hualien have visited Hsin-kang to study the details involved in setting up a foundation of their own.

Lin Huai-min, who set off the spark that led to the Hsinkang foundation, says, "Hsinkang is only a beginning. My ideal is cultural and educational foundations in towns and villages all across Taiwan. Suppose there are 50 foundations and they only hold one activity a year. If they all exchange plans for programs that work, in two year's time they'll have more than any of them can handle."

Some of that synergistic effect has appeared in the three foundations already in existence. Every time the Hsinkang foundation holds a lecture, a painting exhibit or a dance performance, it writes up a detailed report of the planning and implementation process to serve as a reference for others. The Peikang foundation learned a lot from Hsinkang when it was set up, saving it quite a bit of time and effort.

After 6:30 on a cool evening at the end of May last year, people began to gather at a park in Hsinkang, mothers holding infants, farmers in T-shirts, sitting and chatting in groups of four or five, waiting for the National Institute of the Arts to perform the traditional dances of Bali. At 7:30, the stagelights went on and lit up rows of colorful banners. The dancers carried baskets of fresh-cut flowers to offer to the gods and later tossed them out to the audience. The 3,000 or more there clapped and were deeply moved. "The people on that island are very pious," an old woman told a volunteer. "They're not like some people on Taiwan these days who make a lot of noise worshipping but aren't sincere." Some of people later took a trip to the island for a tour.

When confident children from Hsinkang perform the Sung Chiang Formation in Taipei, when teachers lead youngsters from Ilan on field research, when an old woman gains new perspectives at a dance performance, a force in the countryside is burgeoning.

[Picture Caption]

A performance of any kind is a rare event in the countryside and sure to draw a crowd.

Getting fellow townspeople to interact through activities is one of the basic goals of local cultural foundations.

The Sung Chiang Formation, sponsored by the Hsinkang Cultural and Educational Foundation, is an activity that children are proud and happy to take part in.

Love of their native place is making more and more people in their late thirties stand up and be counted. Chou Chia- an, Yang Chin-hien and Lin Chao-cheng are the heart and soul of Yangshan Cultural and Educational Foundation in Ilan.

Chen Chin-huang, a doctor who works in Hsinkang, was the spark that started the cultural and educational foundation there.

Holding lectures on culture at a stock brokerage firm makes for an interesting combination.

The library at the Hsinkang cultural foundation is a favorite haunt of the children there.

Teaching people about local history and traditional arts and crafts helps them learn about their hometown and care more for it.

Similar habits and customs make it easier for fellow townspeople to join together in local cultural foundations. This activity was centered around Matsu Temple in Hsinkang.

Children are the hope of the future, and the group local cultural and educational foundations direct most of their efforts at.

A performance of any kind is a rare event in the countryside and sure to draw a crowd.

Getting fellow townspeople to interact through activities is one of the basic goals of local cultural foundations.