Lamuru Pakawyan (Pinuyumayan)

2013年臺灣原住民族文學獎小說第二名：卑南族林嵐欣的"不，她不是我的Vuvu"。

In addition to my work at the Indigenous Languages Research and Development Center, I also occasionally take translation projects, though I specifically choose projects related to indigenous peoples only. 

This is not bias, for those who tend to tag me as plagued with Chinese-phobia. I have just this amount of time and energy; I choose where to make the best use of my contribution. 

The latest project I completed was translation of short stories written by debut indigenous writers in Taiwan. All of these stories won either the first, second, third or recommendation prize of Annual Formosan Indigenous Literature Award sponsored by Council of Indigenous Peoples and Shan-hai Cultural Magazine Publishing Association. In other words, they are like the Formosan counterparts of Maori stories I introduced earlier in "Huia Short Stories 10: Contemporary Maori Fiction", "Bugs" or "Zhu Mao". 

Among the stories I translated, the second-prized story by a young writer from the Puyuma Nation, Lamuru Pakawyan (or Lin Lan-Hsin 林嵐欣 by her Chinese name), literally stopped me in the middle of my work. Disregarding the public space where I was in, I just could not stop my tears. I cried and I sobbed until the point of exhaustion when I could no longer work with the text. I only resumed the next morning. 

This young writer may not intend to incite such strong sentiment in her readers. Nevertheless, her story has that kind of power for those who have experienced the same thing. Those who understand will cry. Her story is called "No. She Is My Vuvu"; it is included in the 2013 Anthology of 4th Formosan Indigenous Literature Award (photo). 

The story began with a kindergarten girl wondering why her Mom had left her and her Baby Sister with Vuvu when she didn't even know what 'vuvu' meant. But Mom had no other choice at that time. She had to visit Dad in Taipei. Besides, Mamu, who usually took care of them when Mom was away, was not available. So Mom had to bringVuvu from the mountain of Pingtung to the city of Kaohsiung to help babysit her and her little sister. 

However, 'vuvu' wasn't the only word beyond this little girl's comprehension. She actually could not communicate with Vuvu. In the story, the little girl started with speaking Japanese to Vuvu; she learned that language from Mamu who could speak Mandarin, Amis and Japanese, and she thought Vuvu could also understand the language. However, Vuvu did not. That caused a lot of problems and frustration for both of them in the beginning. 

One evening, Mom called from Taiwan. Learning about all the confusions, she explained the meanings of vuvu and mamu (two indigenous words for grandma) to the little girl; told her to speak with Vuvu in simple Mandarin because Vuvu only spoke her native tongue Paiwan and a little bit Mandarin; and  for the very first time 'revealed' their indigenous ancestry. Mom told the little girl what it meant to be indigenous. The use of different languages was the first indicator; in addition, there were certain physical features and special rights and privileges as a result of governmental affirmative actions. From then on, the little girl started to appreciate Vuvu in a different way. 

Later, Little Vuvu (Vuvu's younger sister) also came to her rescue. Little Vuvu visited Vuvu almost every evening at their place. After she arrived, both elderly women would have long chats over leftovers and beer (how nice!). Little Vuvu spoke both Paiwan and Mandarin very well, so she helped to translate for the grandma and her grand-daughter one evening when the little girl had an assignment to do. 

That assignment is, for me, the climax of the entire story. 

The teacher at kindergarten asked every kid to go home to collect a piece of legend, myth or story from their grandparents and parents and share with the class the next morning. The little girl got a wonderful story from Vuvu with the help of Little Vuvu's translation. She liked it very much; she thought her classmates would appreciate it as well. Nevertheless, the next day at school, her story caused such a brawl in the classroom. Other kids thought her story silly, called her a moron, and named her Vuvu an idiot too. She was so furious that she cursed the entire class with a Paiwan word she had secretly practiced in her mind for days: "cagi!"

The entire class went stupefied at the sound of that particular word. After they returned to themselves, they rushed to ask the little girl what was that powerful word. The little girl told them about her indigenous family. It was very cool to be indigenous because indigenous peoples had many privileges; especially, their languages were cool and powerful. Many of her classmates were so encouraged by this story. After school, they went home and started to bother their parents about registering as indigenous. They too wanted to be the awesome indigenous. 

This 'abnormality' drove the kindergarten teacher to call Mom twice and ask her to handle this matter immediately. The conversation between Mom and the little girl and the silent reaction of Vuvu towards the whole thing are exactly the reasons behind my tears. 

In response to the teacher's request, Mom demanded that the little girl should never talk ridiculous indigenous stories in class, never use Paiwan to others and never encourage other kids to become indigenous again. She probably also said the same thing to her mother, the little girl's Vuvu, who reacted with silence and early retreat to the mountain after Mom returned from Taipei. The little girl just couldn't understand why her story wasn't pretty and why being indigenous was something unspeakable. She cried and protested. No matter what Mom said, she wanted to believe her story was better than any other kid's story. 

Among the many points that can be raised about this story, it is very heartbreaking to know people still feel the burn of stigma that comes with race. Compared with the little girl's protest, I find Vuvu's silent retreat from the full attack on her indigenous identity especially killing. What's the other option, if I may ask. 

I didn't know why this story won the second prize, while the other story about a father and his son, which I also translated ("A Visit from Hayung"), won the first . If I were to say, I'd probably raise two points that don't seemingly respond to facts: 

1. According to our research of loan words, indigenous elders above the age of 60 in Taiwan actually know much more Japanese than their younger generation. It was in the way they were brought up during Japanese Occupation Period. Another issue for another time. 

2. The little girl is probably too young to be able to compose so much drama or consume so much information in her head. 

Regardless, both are excellent stories. They are vivid pictures of the different aspects of indigenous life in the modern society. 

I am going to use "No. She Is My Vuvu" as the ice-breaker text in my lecture about loan words at National Dong-Hua University. Wonder what people will say about it. 

One final note. "cagi" means shit in Paiwan. I normally say "cagi su qulu", and I prefer to translate it as 'you the shithead' (you full of shit in your head).