As the first book to anthologize photostaken by migrant workers in Taiwan, Voyage 15840 is exceptional for its mere existence.

Migrant blue-collar workers have been coming to Taiwan legally for 15 years now, and 300-400,000 typically reside in the country at any given time. Yet we Taiwanese have an abominable lack of understanding of this large group living and working in our midst. There are several reasons for this situation-language issues, the long hours and severely constrained spheres of activity of migrant laborers, a mutual resistance to contact.... The upshot is that in spite of interacting day and night, we are strangers to one another: The Taiwanese media treats migrant workers as a threat to law and order, and Taiwanese laborers see them as a threat to their jobs. Meanwhile, when the migrant workers themselves vent their anger and complaints about trying to make a living in this foreign land, they do so in a language their employers cannot understand.

In an effort to help break down this barrier, the Taiwan International Workers' Association (TIWA) organized two photographic workshops for migrant workers. These encouraged a dozen-odd Filipino home caregivers to spend their extremely limited personal time (many have no time off at all) on a new project: they would focus their cameras (most often used to take snapshots for family and friends at home) on Taiwan and on their lives here. The goal was twofold: for them to come to know Taiwan better, and to observe and express themselves.

I remember one time, a fellow said to me that if I could find a Philippine flag amongst these various flags, he'd give me NT$100. Well, I know I'd never find one anyway.

Empowering themselves

Setting this process in motion was anything but easy, as evidenced by the following exchange from a workshop discussion:

Participants were talking about the caption of a photo on the wall. The caption to the shot of a filthy gas stove read simply, "We cook on an ancient stove provided by our employer."
"What made you want to photograph this?"
"I have a lot of friends whose employers don't provide them with any way to cook. When they want Filipino food, they have a really hard time getting it. We, on the other hand, can cook it ourselves, though sometimes we worry that the stove might blow up." Everyone laughs and she continues, "Even so, I'm very grateful to our boss for letting us cook our own food."
"Why didn't you put that into the caption?"
"I didn't know I could write that kind of thing...."

Clearly, long-term subservience has made it difficult for these disadvantaged persons to express themselves. Statements such as "I think" and "I want" are alien to them. To gain the sharp observational powers necessary to produce their photographs, these migrant workers had to break free of any number of social constraints that they had internalized. It didn't happen immediately. They began by shooting their own cramped living quarters, before gaining the courage to ask their employers and even strangers for permission to take photos. Finally they had to attempt to use the written word to explain the significance of what they had been trying to capture on film. The book's seemingly ordinary images and descriptions actually represent a disadvantaged group's determined struggle for self-empowerment.

Those who turn to this book hoping to find the "typical" Filipino migrant-worker experience will be disappointed. Its pages contain little in the way of self-pity or delight in physical labor. Instead, they demonstrate that these migrant workers are just like us, with hopes, joys, frustrations, and moments of loneliness.

A migrant behind the gate is asking her friends outside to transfer her money, because she has no day off. Here, freedom is the difference.

But what are they saying?

For example, it features several photos of children. Some of these shots narrate the photographers' feelings for their employers' children-these kids are always the source of their greatest joys and their biggest headaches. A photo of a child playing by itself on the roadside while its mother is busy selling breakfasts not only demonstrates the photographer's concern for members of our society, but reveals her thoughts of her own children far away. It is also a powerful reminder that nearly all of the photographers are themselves mothers, women who have come to Taiwan to earn money to raise their families, but who, as a result, are unable to be with their own children as they grow up.

Other pictures record the photographers' day-off visits to salons to have their hair done, their eyebrows dyed, or perhaps a pedicure. The shots remind us that they are also women who spend their free time making themselves beautiful. What differentiates them from the women who employ them is how little time they have to indulge themselves in this way.

While some of the photos act to reestablish the personhood of migrant workers, others comment directly on the relationship between the women and their employers, and on how those employers treat them. It is telling that not one of the 83 photos in the collection offers a glimpse of a boss, whether alone or with an employee. Viewers can't help but notice the clear line segregating "us" from "them."

Examples of inequities abound: Migrant workers cannot eat at the same table as their employers. They are asked to cover their mouths with surgical masks when ill, but sick bosses don't reciprocate. They are barred from locking their sleeping quarters and have no privacy. They are sometimes provided with broken beds that they have to crawl out of to reassemble in the middle of the night. They are required to work until their hands ache so badly that they cannot bend their fingers. They are accused of laziness when the trash in their neighborhoods isn't properly separated. They are sexually harassed by Taiwanese men when they wear the kinds of revealing clothing that are acceptable on Taiwanese women. The list goes on. The photos can't help but elicit sympathy for their circumstances. The photographers may also pain or shame viewers a bit with the warmth, serenity, and even self-derision they show in their work.

Here in Taiwan, people have freedom to choose their outfit. As migrants, we don't have freedom in clothing, especially those who work in the house. For if we wear sexy clothes, it is one of the reasons for sexual harassment and rape cases.

What are we looking at?

The book provides the Taiwanese reader with a glimpse into the physical and emotional lives of these Filipino women. It also provides us with a glimpse of their sharp take on Taiwanese society.

As outsiders, their work is especially revealing when it focuses on some of the less obvious details of Taiwanese life: It shows sympathy for the "betelnut beauties" stuck tending betelnut stands by themselves late into the night; it captures an image of an old woman across the way doing her cooking and laundry behind burglar-barred windows, and another of an old man in a suit selling shoelaces in Hsimenting; it depicts the convenience of Taiwan's postal system. The photographers move us with their heart and their spot-on observations.

They also give local readers food for thought by taking note of many Taiwan's problems. The book's first photo captures a cluster of the world's flags, those of Taiwan, the US, the UK, France, Canada, Australia, Japan, Korea, and others, in a way that clearly illustrates Taiwan's worldview: worshipful of the first world and disdainful of the third. A shot of a high-end shoe store speaks of our respect for wealth and the divide separating rich from poor. The last few photos, which depict protests over factory closures and contrast luxurious office towers with decrepit workers' dormitories, narrate a story that local workers know well.

Ultimately, this collection of photos turns the categories of "interpreter" and "interpreted" on their heads-in it, migrant workers are the observers, peering at Taiwanese society and examining their own place within it. In a nice touch, the publisher has thoughtfully included an index to all the photos, as well as captions in Indonesian and Vietnamese. It has also demonstrated its respect for the contributors by incorporating biographies and personal statements from each.

For those concerned about the human rights of Taiwan's migrant workers, this book is a cause for joy. We can only hope that it represents just the first step, that in the future migrant workers in other industries and of other nationalities will, with the help of local friends, find their voices and speak for themselves on this island of ours.

This is the door leading to my bedroom. Notice the keys hanging on the door? They are always there. I don't have the right to take away the keys, which means, I don't have privacy. Anybody can go inside at anytime even during my sleep.

This is the only person who makes me laugh every day. If she wasn't born, my days would be very boring and I'd always think of home.

Mailbox is a nice implement in Taiwan. You don't have to go to the post office to mail, especially for those who are very busy. Philippines don't have this kind of system. We must go directly to the post office.