Invisible Minorities

On our first morning in Taiwan we awoke to the sound of a gigantic music box. Thinking there must be a parade, we ran to the window. Much to our surprise it was the garbage truck! Betty Geddes, the Presbyterian Church in Canada’s mission partner in whose home we stayed during our first month, was scurrying out to the street with her neighbours to throw their household garbage into the back of the truck. This was a six – day – a – week event. As the truck meandered through the narrow laneways, the air was filled with strains of A Maiden’s Prayer by Polish composer Tekla Badarzewska. (Garbage trucks in other neighbourhoods played Beethoven’s Für Elise.) The next morning when our son Andrew heard the music, he began dancing in circles and shrieking: “Garbage! Garbage!” This became his routine for the next few months. I dreaded the days when the truck changed its schedule and came plinking down the street just as Andrew was going down for his afternoon nap!

It was Jan. 15, 1983 when Paul and I and one – and – a – half – year – old Andrew arrived in Taipei. Our mission was to partner with the Presbyterian Church in Taiwan in their work among the Hakka people, a Han (Chinese) minority group. (This led to Paul helping translate the Bible into the Hakka language.)

After five months of Mandarin studies in Taipei, we moved to Kung Kuan in the Hakka county of Miaoli. As newcomers we made mistakes but people were very kind and patient and helped us in countless ways to adapt to our new environment. Paul and I studied Hakka with the minister and members of his congregation, while Andrew learned Hakka by playing with the neighbourhood children. We learned how to shop in the local market and cook with a wok, and we regularly ate our meals at our round dining table using rice bowls and chopsticks. We learned customs about visiting in homes, such as waiting to be asked three times before accepting something to eat or drink, and how to give and receive gifts with two hands. Paul learned how to serve black dragon (oolong) tea, which is particularly popular among Hakka men.

In January 1984, our second son Peter was born at Changhua Christian Hospital where PCC mission partner Joy Randall was serving as director of nursing. Giving birth to Peter opened up a whole new set of customs, many of which continue in Asian countries today. A month – long period of confinement follows the birth of a baby as the new mother dzo ngiet (“does the month”). Mother is confined to bed rest, while she and baby are attended to by A – po (the baby’s paternal grandmother). The new mother must follow strict rules regarding bathing and hair washing. She must avoid eating raw fruits and vegetables and drinking coffee and cold beverages. But when Peter was born, with no mother – in – law around to help, the only rule I strictly followed was staying inside for a whole month. At the end of Peter’s first month, Hiu Muk – su – ngiong, our minister’s wife, graciously came to our home and helped me boil and dye eggs the colour red to share with folks in our neighbourhood. “Rejoice with us, Mak Yun – Dz (aka Peter) has survived his first month!” Peter was baptized in Kungkuan Presbyterian Church that spring.

As our boys grew, our home became a popular place for the neighbourhood kids to play. Consequently I learned much of my Hakka from preschoolers: Hey ngai – gey! (It’s mine!), Mo – oi! (I don’t want to!), and Ngai oi o – ngiaw! (I gotta go pee!). I did learn more than that, but our boys became much more fluent in Hakka than I. One morning I was chatting with Mrs. Lim, one of the grandmothers on our lane. She said something I didn’t quite understand, so I turned to four – year – old Andrew and asked: “Andrew, what did Lim Thai – thai say?” He repeated back to me in Hakka what Mrs. Lim had said. I said: “No, no, what did she say in English?” Puzzled, he replied: “She didn’t say anything in English!”

In 1988 we returned to Canada for a year – long furlough; that was the year Mark was born. At home Paul tried speaking with Andrew and Peter in Hakka, but they were not so inclined, saying that in Canada people speak English. Children learn languages easily but, without use, they quickly forget them too; and they never regained the fluency they had in their early years. When we returned to Taiwan in 1989, the older boys continued their schooling in an English one – room school in Hsinchu for a couple of years before we moved to Taichung where all three boys attended Morrison Christian Academy. The students there came from all over the globe, mainly missionary kids and Taiwanese children who carried foreign passports.

In the summer of 1995 it was time for our family to move back to Canada. At age 13, Andrew was most reluctant to move—Taiwan was his home, so he began making plans to live with his friend’s family in Taichung and visit us during the summer holidays. Peter, 11, and Mark, 7, accepted the move more easily, but we all left Taiwan with mixed feelings. Paul and I had willingly gone to Taiwan but our decision had a major impact on the lives of our three boys and our extended family. Recently I asked Andrew, Peter and Mark how they thought spending their early years in Taiwan affected them.

Mark commented on the strong bonds we have as a nuclear family. The three brothers are good friends and keep in regular contact even though they now live thousands of kilometres apart. They regret not having known some of their grandparents and extended family as well as they would have liked. In Taiwan, our church family and our PCC mission family helped fill the family gap. On furloughs in Canada, the boys recall feeling out of sync with their cousins and other children in terms of popular toys, games and TV programs as well as in clothing and hairstyles. Their Canadian peers talked about the NHL but they were more familiar with FIFA. When you move back to a country with hockey as its national sport, it’s humbling to be the slowest, wobbliest teenager on the rink.

Living in Taiwan our boys experienced life as a “visible minority,” but when they moved back to Canada they were an “invisible minority.” On the outside they looked like average Canadians, but culturally they were a Taiwanese – Canadian blend. Some customs important in Taiwan were irrelevant in Canada. Peter recalls missing out on treats or invitations because in Taiwan he had been taught to refuse twice before accepting something on the third offer—to accept too eagerly is considered rude.

Spending their early years in Taiwan helped shape a global perspective in our boys as they lived and attended school in a community of people who had different perspectives, customs, appearances and language. They recall spending lots of time at church where they worshipped in Hakka or Taiwanese or English. Worshipping God in a language they didn’t completely understand gave them a bigger view of the holy catholic church. They learned that as Christians we worship the same God revealed in Jesus Christ, but we’re free to worship in different languages and in different ways. In Taiwan worship services are often followed by a congregational meal. These are called oi – tson, Hakka for “love feasts.” The boys have vivid memories of sitting around low tables in the kindergarten classroom, eating jowdzs (dumplings) with the church folk.

It still amazes me how 31 years ago the PCC sent our little family to Taiwan. We thank God that Andrew, Peter and Mark grew up in Taiwan, and then adjusted to life in Canada with no major stressors. Paul and I are also thankful that all three boys are active members of their local congregations and are supportive of Paul’s work of Bible translation. In the summer of 2010 Peter showed his support in a very tangible way as he cycled across Canada, raising funds for the publication of the Hakka Bible—which by God’s grace happened in April 2012. Andrew and his wife Heather have already visited Taiwan, and Peter is planning a trip there next year. Perhaps in the future Mark and his wife Sophia will also have an opportunity to visit Taiwan, the island nation that has a special place in all our hearts!