In Miaoli County the sun went down, and the pillars (one male and one female) of the new door to Chaonan Junior High in Chu-nan cast their irregular shadows across the construction site where the weeds were thickest. Usually this ground reverberates with the chirps of insects, but on this night a steady stream of motorcycles was disturbing the peace. Guests were arriving one after another as a tribal feast was about to begin.

About 20 Ami and Saisiyat arrived, carrying freshly cut wild herbs, rice wine, red sticky rice, and rice pots made from the wood of a Chinese parasol tree. Men and women, old folk and youngsters, they came to feast at one of Wu Te-kuei's construction sites.

The young men found boards, bricks and pieces of styrofoam, which they fashioned into a table and chairs. Two elders sat down to enjoy the cool air and watch the children playing tag.

On a clear night with a cool breeze, the good times start to roll at an aboriginal feast.

The flavor of the land

The women were busy washing and cooking the rice and vegetables and preparing some unusual varieties of fish and fresh octopus just bought at the harbor. The knife they brought with them was too dull, and so Huang Su-mei deftly used her hands to remove the "wings" of the octopus, not neglecting to tell us that this was the most succulent part.

We discovered some plants at the construction site that resembled the ones being cooked. When we showed them to Wu Te-kuei, he effortlessly plucked two stalks from near his feet, and asked us if we could distinguish between them. We "city bumpkins" were totally at a loss. It turned out that one plant's leaves were rounder, the other's more pointed. Chinese herbal doctors hold that the pointed-leafed plant, when washed and salted, dispels excessive "fire" within the body.

When the steaming sticky rice was put on the table, Wu first used his hand to bring some to his mouth. "Try some. Rice eaten with the hands tastes different!" Taking up his challenge, I took some rice in my hand, and as I did so the scene of farmers toiling in the fields came to mind, and I felt close to the land. So that was what was meant by the flavor being different!

Compared to these tribal people, we Han Chinese--who need knives to prepare food, who go to the market to buy greens, and who use chopsticks to eat--are too far removed from nature.

Huang said that besides two Saisiyat construction workers and a Han Chinese friend, the remaining people were all relatives. Because most of them married cousins, it was hard to keep track of how they were related to each other even after having a round of introductions. In any case, they were one big family. And there was nothing accidental in their gathering in Chu-nan. Rather, it revealed clearly their ethnic trait of doing things together.

Wu and Huang were the first to move to Chu-nan from their village. When their relatives back home saw that they were making out all right, they started coming over one after another. The first to follow was Huang's younger male cousin, who stayed temporarily in the couple's first apartment of 1080 square feet. Now they hold a picnic about once a week. Besides allowing them to stay in touch, it also dispels the loneliness of living away from home. They even had plans to celebrate Mother's Day together!

Beer and tomatoes

For this picnic, Wu Te-kuei specially brought out his treasured sticky rice wine, as well as Taiwan rice wine and beer. "When we Amis drink" he said, "we put stress on the atmosphere. We'll only drink with friends, but then we'll really drink up!" Indeed, our glasses were filled as soon as they were empty, and when the toasting began, anyone between the toaster and the toastee was expected to raise his glass as well.

As they urged us and each other to drink, the pile of empty beer bottles kept rising. With the little sobriety that I had left, I could feel the rumblings of my bloated stomach. Just then Wu took a bottle of tomato juice and poured some into my glass of beer, tinting it red. I tried it. It was salty and a little bitter. When I took a second taste, the tomato juice and beer had combined to make a strongly sweet flavor that lingered in the throat.

"In this way you prevent gas. It's got to be the 'Kagome' brand to taste good," Wu Te-kuei explained laughing.

"What's more," he continued, as if making an inventory of the family treasures, "we often drink NT$20 bottles of Taiwan rice wine and then add some 'President' black tea. If we drink mountain wine (sticky rice wine and millet wine), we add 'Mr. Brown' coffee, which makes it more fragrant. And when we drink oolong tea, we add a few drops of Kinmen kaoliang, which makes it even tastier!"

Necessity is the mother of invention

Although it's impossible to determine the origin of these tricks, if indigenous people can improvise with the lyrics to their songs, there's no reason to think they shouldn't be able to put a new spin on old drinks or rewrite some traditional recipes.

At this feast we tried a new sauce with raw fish that was created sheerly by accident. Once Wu Te-kuei went out for a picnic and forgot to bring his soy sauce to put on the raw fish slices. Making do, he used sticky rice wine in its place and found that it was even better at bringing out the sweet flavor of the fish.

When the alcohol in their bodies reaches a critical mass, it would usually mean that it was time for the feasters to sing and dance. Unfortunately, as the site of this picnic provided no flat surface, we missed out on a chance to dance together. I was, however, able to enjoy their improvisational singing abilities.

With an amusing interplay between singer and listener, the songs provided a chance for dialogue and pun-making.

But don't get the impression that they only sang in Ami; they were also first-rate crooners of Mandarin and Taiwanese songs, such as Chang Hsiou-ching's "Homesick" and "The Station." As a result, we Han Chinese among them didn't feel left out and could take full pleasure in the proceedings.

To the happy sounds of song the feast came to a close. In a tipsy state, we put things back in their places and buried the remaining food in the ground, letting what came from Mother Nature go back to her. But we took with us moving feelings, impressed firmly in the heart.

[Picture Caption]

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This steamer, made from the wood of a Chinese parasol tree, gives the sticky rice a special natural flavor.

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On a clear night with a cool breeze, the good times start to roll at an aboriginal feast.