The long journey
Every year since 1994, during the kids' summer vacation, the Jyou-tian members have taken their Nezha costume on a tour of blessing around Taiwan. They make the 1080-kilometer trip from north to south through wind and rain. Members wear the costume in shifts, while the others bang gongs and drums, wave incense burners, and carry banners. Everyone plays a part.
The giant Nezha costume weighs more than 30 kilograms and crushes down on the shoulders of its bearer. What's even harder to bear is the stifling air inside and the tight space--there are only eye holes the size of a pair of glasses for the bearer to see out of. One person can only carry it for about a kilometer before trading off, and it's not uncommon for people to cramp up or get heatstroke while inside.
As a form of prayer, the members keep to a vegetarian diet for the entire trip. They cover an average of 40 kilometers a day, walking in the daytime and stopping at local temples at night. Then they take part in ceremonies to rid the area of bad fortune. When they finally get to rest, they take off their shoes and discover that their feet are covered in blisters. Some nights they can't find a temple and have no choice but to camp out in a school playground, washing up in their underwear at the long handwashing sinks. It's a scene right out of army basic training.
"During the long, silent journey of more than 1000 kilometers, some of the kids carry on internal dialogues," says Lin Mao-hsien. "Of course some of them will find their minds settling down." Lin believes that the religious, ascetic journey serves as a sort of purification for the kids, and helps them build self-confidence.
On the last round-the-island tour, A-Cheng pushed himself to the limit by wearing the Nezha costume all the way from Fengping, Taitung County, to Hualien--a 60-kilometer stretch, which took him 13 hours to complete.
A-Cheng recalls, "Every time we came to a slope, I would grit my teeth and tell myself that we were almost there, just hang on. I kept saying to myself, 'Can you make it? Of course you can!'" That's how self-confidence is built. He finished his seemingly impossible task on just water and chocolate. When he took off the costume that night, he had lost almost all feeling in his shoulders. He couldn't raise his arms for two days. But, he says, "I felt a kind of easiness of mind that I'd never felt before. In the past, when I ran into troubles I'd just give up. Now I know that nothing is too difficult for me." You can hear the pride in his voice. To A-Cheng and the others, the 23-day journey is a kind of spiritual purification and an affirmation of the mutual understanding they've built up between themselves.
In addition to the yearly tour of the island, Jyou-tian carried two 35-kilo drums up Yushan in 2004, and last year, after being awarded the Council for Cultural Affairs subsidy, they braved a spell of 8° weather and made a 43-day "pilgrimage" to cultural centers in all 23 of the nation's counties and municipalities.
On this cultural pilgrimage, they'd arrive at a cultural center after a day of walking and, without having time even to wash up, begin to put together their stage, set up the lights, and give a performance.
On the stage, they look like warriors, killers, or dedicated performers. Those tough attitudes they once showed on the streets have been transformed by their collective struggle into a vitality that permeates their performances. That vitality lets them take the stage and interact with others with self-confidence, keeping in rhythm with one another.
"I'm not the star, but I have to admit that it's a great feeling to see the faces of the audience peering through the darkness, wrapped up in our performance for an hour or two," says Jen-chieh, a 19-year-old who is about to start his military service.
These kids, who never heard any encouragement in school and never had a place in society, have found themselves again on stage, under the spotlight.
The audience calls for an encore, and the group rushes back onto the stage, full of spirit. The drums again beat out their rhythms, and when they finish, the kids of Jyou-tian will once again be bathed in thunderous applause.
These are no pampered teenagers--the members of Jyou-tian train hard. Even carrying a 35-kilo drum is not a problem.
On top of far-off Mt. Tatu, the group's members spend their days and nights together as family. Their feelings of brotherhood run deep.