I'm at the KH airport, boarding gate, minutes before boarding. I'm going to Hon g Kong on a visa trip. It's late afternoon and I thumb through Time magazine during the last few minutes. Across from me is a rotund Taiwanese man, about my age, jovial smile, “Good afternoon.” he greets me, as our eyes meet. “My name is Michael.”
“Hello. My name is Malcolm.” I reply in teacher talk. I expect to go through a series of ESL routines like, “ Hello-how-are-I-am-fine-and-you.”
“Malcolm,” half asking, and then before I can say anything, “like Welcome, with an 'M'. It's a common name in Australia”
I have a feeling that this is not going to be your average English chat session. I decide to overlook the difference in the vowels. It's a good mnemonic. I use it to this day, when I introduce myself.
So, I wasn't too surprised to hear, “Have a good die”.
I raised my eyebrows, “excuse me?”
“In Australia, that is how they speak. The first time I heard it, I said,'what? who died?'”
OK. This is not gonna be your ordinary chat.”You're English is very good.”
“No, where, where.”
We both laughed at his parody of the Chinese expression of modesty. I felt as if I were in the presence of the Laughing Buddha ( 笑佛 )
Here's my card. Call me when you come back to Taiwan. Maybe you can teach my office staff.”
We exchanged cards and promised to get in touch.
When I returned from Hong Kong, being quit involved with a project, I postponed calling Michael for a couple of weeks. When I did call him, he recognized my voice right away,” Ma Tai-i. I am so glad you called. Tell me where you are. I will come and pick you up. “
“There's no need. I can take a cab.”
“No, I insist.”
He picked me up on Wu Fu Road and took me to his music school and trading company in Fong San. I met his mother, his office staff, mostly relatives Over the next 2 hours, he called in many of his sales staff and his kids to meet me. And we drank a lot of tea. I t became apparent to me that this man was the center post of a tent, a very large tent, consisting of a very extended family, a music school, a day care, a trading company, a construction company and an active life with the Lion's Club.
He told me how he used to work in the foreign affairs police department but was disillusioned by certain inconsistencies between what is practiced and what is preached.
“What do you call it when the power of relationships is used to go around the law?”
“Nepotism?”
“Yes, that is it.”
Within a week I was teaching his office staff, a month his immediate family, in 2 months his extended family to prepare them for emigration. I began to wonder if I hadn't, at some time, inadvertently rubbed his belly.
I could write a book on Michael and his beautiful family. The times we shared are among my fondest memories of Taiwan. Whenever the drudgery of life got me down, thoughts of him encouraged and inspired me. Never in my life have a known a man to have such even temper, quiet patient wisdom, thoughtful consideration for his family and his staff. He lived by a code ethic which he kept to himself. Through his actions, over the years one could discern it. He was consistent, never a double standard. He was a mountain of a man in character. And like a mountain provides water, wildlife, shade, runoff soil for the ecosystem below. He too was very good provider for all who touched him.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Gestation - Taipei 1987
In 1987 Taipei was a bustling metropolis of cash, currencies, gold, smog, dust where a Benz SLK shared the same lane as a wooden cart pulled by a water buffalo, where a traffic accident involving 3 Benz's was not unusual. It was too much for me. I missed going home to the quiet pastoral suburban dorms of Pohang Iron and Steel Company in Korea.
I spent 10 days and 10,000 NT touring the island looking at alternatives. I returned
to Taipei and decided to give it a chance.
There was no escaping the noise of construction, traffic or destruction. In 7 months I lived at several different locations.
I got to know the pubs. I networked more than I drank. A year in Korea had increased my tolerance. There were no discos, the nightclubs catered to Taiwan businessmen. But there was a growing number of western style pubs which attracted foreign business people, English teachers and local women trawling for foreign men either to practice their English or for long term or short term relationships.
I was thoroughly unprepared for winter in Taipei. The cement buildings and marble floors magnified the cold. The thin blankets that came with my meager rented room were inadequate. One night, as a last resort I poured out a puddle of Kao Liang liquor on the floor and lit it on fire. I fed the fire a cup at a time until I warmed enough to stop shivering.
While living in Mucha, 3 blocks from the graveyard, weekends were impossible. The funeral processions started early Sat and Sun mornings. Enjoying the wrong lifestyle, pub crawling until sunset. We closed the pubs, bought bags of beer and climbed the unfinished stairs of the steel cement skeletons which would soon be the skyscrapers you see today. In the darkness from level to level we saw pairs of eyes peering out at us, and a strange language which was definitely not Chinese, nor Taiwanese. Dark skin, broad shouldered, swarthy men and women, were sleeping on the levels of the raw cement building, on layers of cardboard, wrapped in sleeping bags and blankets, strumming guitars, drinking Whisbih.
After 9 months, human gestation period, I decided Taipei was not for me; New York with single fold eye-lids. I found that I was getting nothing while spending a lot of money and body fluids. I grabbed the opportunity to move south.
I spent 10 days and 10,000 NT touring the island looking at alternatives. I returned
to Taipei and decided to give it a chance.
There was no escaping the noise of construction, traffic or destruction. In 7 months I lived at several different locations.
I got to know the pubs. I networked more than I drank. A year in Korea had increased my tolerance. There were no discos, the nightclubs catered to Taiwan businessmen. But there was a growing number of western style pubs which attracted foreign business people, English teachers and local women trawling for foreign men either to practice their English or for long term or short term relationships.
I was thoroughly unprepared for winter in Taipei. The cement buildings and marble floors magnified the cold. The thin blankets that came with my meager rented room were inadequate. One night, as a last resort I poured out a puddle of Kao Liang liquor on the floor and lit it on fire. I fed the fire a cup at a time until I warmed enough to stop shivering.
While living in Mucha, 3 blocks from the graveyard, weekends were impossible. The funeral processions started early Sat and Sun mornings. Enjoying the wrong lifestyle, pub crawling until sunset. We closed the pubs, bought bags of beer and climbed the unfinished stairs of the steel cement skeletons which would soon be the skyscrapers you see today. In the darkness from level to level we saw pairs of eyes peering out at us, and a strange language which was definitely not Chinese, nor Taiwanese. Dark skin, broad shouldered, swarthy men and women, were sleeping on the levels of the raw cement building, on layers of cardboard, wrapped in sleeping bags and blankets, strumming guitars, drinking Whisbih.
After 9 months, human gestation period, I decided Taipei was not for me; New York with single fold eye-lids. I found that I was getting nothing while spending a lot of money and body fluids. I grabbed the opportunity to move south.
She wears the pants - Da Liao, 2003
She wears the pants
During my years in Taiwan I never saw any overt signs of a women's movement like we had in the states during the last half of the 20th century. I wondered why. Back home we developed an image of Asian women as a severely oppressed group, subservient to their male counterparts, restricted and reviled. When we get here, we see nothing of the sort.
There were a number of events that helped me understand the nature of the man woman relationship in Taiwan.
I was negotiating a property management deal for a house in Taimali. The owner, Mr Huang, lived in Chao Dzo. He picked me up at the station. We went to his house. We sat at a small simple table and chairs meticulously arranged on the sidewalk in front of his house. He also had his friend Mr. Linn, a property broker, join us.
They went to great lengths to arrange the seating just right. The small square folding table was against a wall. I faced the wall. Mr Huang was to my left. Mr Lin was to my right. There was one extra chair next to Mr Huang, but not really at the table. We drank green tea. I proceeded to outline my proposal. He said, “ Oh, no wait. My wife will be down in a minute.“
So, we talked the usual foreigner talk; food, weather, climate and the always unnerving,” What do you think of Taiwan women?” When Mrs Huang arrived, I stood up, moving my chair over to make room for her at the table. I picked up her chair to move it closer to the table.
“ Oh, no, that's quite alright,” quickly moving the chair back to its original location.
She took the seat next to, slightly behind her husband. I noticed that she was just within his peripheral vision. A lot of shifting and adjusting ensued, a centimeter this way and that way. I was so caught up in the drama, I lost my attention to the topic. Mr. Linn sat patiently, quietly through all of this as if he were familiar with it.
“So, umm. Let's go over this rental agreement.” And, I noticed that every time I asked a question of Mr Huang, Mrs. Huang would lean forward just a tad, barely discernible, just enough to bring herself into his peripheral vision. He would hesitate. Then, she would nod or shake her head, ghostlike, ever so slightly. He would speak and she would resume her default position.
I was reminded of a wealthy woman in the back seat of a chauffeur driven car. By the end of the discussion I was so fed up with the charade, I turned to the wife and looked her square in the face and said,” Your property is going to waste by erosion and vandals. You are not gonna get a better chance than this. You have my number. Call me when you decide. Have a good day.”
On the drive back, I began to see this interaction as a metaphor for how so many households are managed. She drives, discretely from the back seat allowing him all the outward appearances of power and prestige.
Later I related this incident to my cultural consultant. “In traditional Chinese household, generally, man has his domain and woman has hers. Duty. Generally.” and he said no more as if leaving me an open door.
I took the bait,” So what is his domain, what is her domain?”
“Generally,“ he continued,” man is responsible for everything outside the house. Woman's duty is everything inside the house; the shopping, cooking, kids, family relations.”
“So what does that leave for the man?”
“The job and income, the farm, the social life. There is a balance of power. “ I thought about how many of my Taiwanese friends brought home their pay and handed it directly to their wives and when they needed money they would ask, “ Lao-paw, gay wo -i- dien chien, how bu how?” -Wife, give me some pocket money, please.-
“Maybe that's why so many men bring home the money and give it to the missus.
“ Why do you think?” he asked.
“ It gives them leverage,” and , “perhaps, he is bad at math,” I added with a grin.
“ Leverage,” Paul contemplated that. Then, after a moment, with a mischievous grin he made a gesture like a cup, “Women retain,” and the a gesture like a shaft,” Men, spend.”
“ Lai, lai,” as we lifted our cups to drink.
I considered one of my paragliding business relations, Da Xi, who handles all of the money coming into his business. But when it comes to pay outs,” See my wife.” This made it easier for him to manage the social aspect of his business relations. His wife is cast socially as the fierce guard, a pit bull, a junk yard dog.
Paul continued, “ In America what is the divorce rate?”
“Over 50%.”
“If you maintained a balance of power you would not have this problem.” he instructed.
“Well, in a post-industrial society things are a little more complex. In a 2 income family, the man really has no domain anymore. This traditional formula is obsolete.”
“He just laughed.” You see, his wife lived in another city, 5 hours away where she ran her own business. She visited once or twice a year and left the child rearing and household to him.
During my years in Taiwan I never saw any overt signs of a women's movement like we had in the states during the last half of the 20th century. I wondered why. Back home we developed an image of Asian women as a severely oppressed group, subservient to their male counterparts, restricted and reviled. When we get here, we see nothing of the sort.
There were a number of events that helped me understand the nature of the man woman relationship in Taiwan.
I was negotiating a property management deal for a house in Taimali. The owner, Mr Huang, lived in Chao Dzo. He picked me up at the station. We went to his house. We sat at a small simple table and chairs meticulously arranged on the sidewalk in front of his house. He also had his friend Mr. Linn, a property broker, join us.
They went to great lengths to arrange the seating just right. The small square folding table was against a wall. I faced the wall. Mr Huang was to my left. Mr Lin was to my right. There was one extra chair next to Mr Huang, but not really at the table. We drank green tea. I proceeded to outline my proposal. He said, “ Oh, no wait. My wife will be down in a minute.“
So, we talked the usual foreigner talk; food, weather, climate and the always unnerving,” What do you think of Taiwan women?” When Mrs Huang arrived, I stood up, moving my chair over to make room for her at the table. I picked up her chair to move it closer to the table.
“ Oh, no, that's quite alright,” quickly moving the chair back to its original location.
She took the seat next to, slightly behind her husband. I noticed that she was just within his peripheral vision. A lot of shifting and adjusting ensued, a centimeter this way and that way. I was so caught up in the drama, I lost my attention to the topic. Mr. Linn sat patiently, quietly through all of this as if he were familiar with it.
“So, umm. Let's go over this rental agreement.” And, I noticed that every time I asked a question of Mr Huang, Mrs. Huang would lean forward just a tad, barely discernible, just enough to bring herself into his peripheral vision. He would hesitate. Then, she would nod or shake her head, ghostlike, ever so slightly. He would speak and she would resume her default position.
I was reminded of a wealthy woman in the back seat of a chauffeur driven car. By the end of the discussion I was so fed up with the charade, I turned to the wife and looked her square in the face and said,” Your property is going to waste by erosion and vandals. You are not gonna get a better chance than this. You have my number. Call me when you decide. Have a good day.”
On the drive back, I began to see this interaction as a metaphor for how so many households are managed. She drives, discretely from the back seat allowing him all the outward appearances of power and prestige.
Later I related this incident to my cultural consultant. “In traditional Chinese household, generally, man has his domain and woman has hers. Duty. Generally.” and he said no more as if leaving me an open door.
I took the bait,” So what is his domain, what is her domain?”
“Generally,“ he continued,” man is responsible for everything outside the house. Woman's duty is everything inside the house; the shopping, cooking, kids, family relations.”
“So what does that leave for the man?”
“The job and income, the farm, the social life. There is a balance of power. “ I thought about how many of my Taiwanese friends brought home their pay and handed it directly to their wives and when they needed money they would ask, “ Lao-paw, gay wo -i- dien chien, how bu how?” -Wife, give me some pocket money, please.-
“Maybe that's why so many men bring home the money and give it to the missus.
“ Why do you think?” he asked.
“ It gives them leverage,” and , “perhaps, he is bad at math,” I added with a grin.
“ Leverage,” Paul contemplated that. Then, after a moment, with a mischievous grin he made a gesture like a cup, “Women retain,” and the a gesture like a shaft,” Men, spend.”
“ Lai, lai,” as we lifted our cups to drink.
I considered one of my paragliding business relations, Da Xi, who handles all of the money coming into his business. But when it comes to pay outs,” See my wife.” This made it easier for him to manage the social aspect of his business relations. His wife is cast socially as the fierce guard, a pit bull, a junk yard dog.
Paul continued, “ In America what is the divorce rate?”
“Over 50%.”
“If you maintained a balance of power you would not have this problem.” he instructed.
“Well, in a post-industrial society things are a little more complex. In a 2 income family, the man really has no domain anymore. This traditional formula is obsolete.”
“He just laughed.” You see, his wife lived in another city, 5 hours away where she ran her own business. She visited once or twice a year and left the child rearing and household to him.
Canceled Class - Kaoshiung 1987
One of my students called to cancel class today. In her early thirties, with 3 kids in kindergarten and elementary school, she drives a BMW. Her husband drives a Benz when he is in town. He's usually in China where they own a factory. Selina is a long, lean, leggy woman, built like a runway model. She is high maintenance. She often cancels class. She is active in the community, Majong club and frequent weddings. She takes medication 'for her nerves.'
“Hi Selina,” I answered.
“Teacher I'm sorry I have to cancel class today.”
“Oh, is everything O.K.?”I asked.
“I am in the hospital,” she confessed.
“Are you alright?”
“Nothing serious. Minor surgery."
"Does it hurt much?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "This is my third time."
"I have the baby removed.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry.” I empathized.
She laughs nervously, “ Never mind. I have 3 already,” she consoled.
“How does your husband feel about this?” I wondered.
“He doesn't care. “
“Oh.”
“It's not his.”
“Oh.”
“Hi Selina,” I answered.
“Teacher I'm sorry I have to cancel class today.”
“Oh, is everything O.K.?”I asked.
“I am in the hospital,” she confessed.
“Are you alright?”
“Nothing serious. Minor surgery."
"Does it hurt much?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "This is my third time."
"I have the baby removed.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry.” I empathized.
She laughs nervously, “ Never mind. I have 3 already,” she consoled.
“How does your husband feel about this?” I wondered.
“He doesn't care. “
“Oh.”
“It's not his.”
“Oh.”
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