miperepereper i kalevelevan aza aris
soaring in sky the eagle
(Verb + Place + Subject)
Translation: The eagle is soaring in the sky.
This syntax is typical for Austronesian languages such as Paiwan. Verbs are essential and always in the first place, whose meanings are determined by the focus system.
In this sentence, the unconjugated verb is 'perepere' or 'perper' (to fly) in Raleigh Ferrell's 1982 Paiwan Dictionary. 'mi' is an agent marker that attributes the movement to the subject (the eagle); therefore, 'mi-perepere' or 'mi-perper' means fly or flies. and to duplicate the verb stem by a single syllable (perepere becomes 'perepereper') makes the verb a present participle or V-ing; so, 'mi-perepere-per' means flying.
That is probably the farthermost into linguistics I can go about my mother language at the moment. Thanks to my days spent at the Indigenous Languages Research and Development Center.
But the book is actually not about Paiwan language. It is about a Paiwan woman's journey to West Tibet that seems to bring her so far away from home, yet in fact even closer to where she originally came from. It is, as I like to see myself as well, returning by leaving, settling while moving.
On the cover, the book's Chinese titles do not really go with the Paiwan sentence. Its main title 老鷹再見 can be interpreted either as "Farewell, Eagle" or "Eagle Seen Again", and its subtitle 一位排灣女子的藏西之旅, "A trip to West Tibet by a Paiwan woman", gives away the part of her leaving but hides the part of her returning or settling.
Her name is I-baw 伊苞. She grew up in a Paiwan village, enjoying the love of her father and many other elders. The medicine woman in the village especially considered I-baw to be the next successor, so I-baw's departure first to study in the seminary and later to work as a research assistant to anthropologists upset and worried the medicine woman and some other elders. Every time when I-baw came home for a few days, they would ask if she would remember and recognize them, once they were gone to be with ancestors and return to the village for a visit.
That's a haunting theme for I-baw. It was there already before she went to Tibet with friends to perform the cleansing rite called 'Turning the Mountain', since the purpose of their visit was indeed to meditate and walk around Lake Manasarovar and Mount Kailash. It followed her throughout the journey, as the travelogue showed, and I believe it remains with her even until now at Utheatre.org, where she works with fellow drummer-performers.
To me, I-baw is more of a spiritual person than a writer. She writes very well, but her struggle and pursuit of a peaceful mind speaks even louder. Yes, on the outside, she was traveling to West Tibet, but on the inside, it was her quest to the Paiwan village that was once familiar to her but has now changed drastically with the inevitable demise of elders who hold the truth of Paiwan ways of living.
So this book is a travelogue of two journeys.
In West Tibet, she was lucky enough to see the eagle that means so much to Paiwan culture. Eagle feathers are exclusively for the chief and his or her family; they are the symbol of ultimate honor and power. When I-baw was a child, her mom stitched a piece of valuable eagle feather to her cloak. That became the point of her connection with Paiwan culture. She was lucky enough to see a piece of Paiwan in Tibet. Spirits connect.
I-baw's walk in Tibet draws me, making me want to repeat those footsteps for a peaceful and strong mind, but her quest to Paiwan tears me because I feel what she feels. My colleague, a young Paiwan mother of four children, who has never heard of Tibet before, also cries terribly because the book reminds her so much of her old days back in the village with her grandmother. I-baw's Paiwan village is true but is also lost.
Her Paiwan village is lost to the demise of elders. It is lost to disorienting young people that perish one after another in desperation and alcoholism. It is lost to developmental projects that invade and alter the landscape without the permission of local residents. It is also lost to the fact many of her people, including herself, have no choice but change their own colors in order to survive in the modern world. She rued,
"Experience told me that my skin tone and identity are heavy burdens. I can no longer bring my own tradition and culture to this life stage of people-to-people competition. Instead, I must continuously weaken my own smell and my color, so I can live with different ideas and values without hurting myself so much. I have taken off the feather of eagle in my cloak many years ago; I don't want to be an alien." (pp. 147-148)
She called herself an orphan, a faithful companion of insomnia. Both in her home land and in a foreign country. And I feel with her.
When will she see that Eagle soaring again in the sky? In the epilogue to her book, I-baw said the trip to West Tibet really opens up her mind; she becomes more open and forgiving to the world. She truly misses her village, her people and the medicine woman. Yet now, she knows differently.
She takes up her longing for them, holds it tightly to the heart, gently puts it down and lets it flow naturally. It is not a farewell gesture. I don't think so.
I think it is peace because you know and truly believe the Eagle will be seen again.
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