Through droughts, typhoons and stories, water plays a central role in the lives of a mountain tribe in Taiwan.
By Fr. Tom Browning

When I arrived in the mountains of Taiwan in 1990, I started working with the Atayal people, the original inhabitants of the island. I began to record traditional Atayal stories as a way to help preserve their dying culture. One evening, I interviewed Chief Marai Dugan with his daughter, Jiwas, acting as translator.

Chief Marai told me this story:

The Atayals were living in the flatlands when one day it started to rain and would not stop. They watched as the water rose higher and higher and decided it was safer to move to the higher ground of the mountains.

As they moved to the foothills, the water continued to rise and follow them. They then started to climb to higher peaks, but the rain continued to rise. Then, in the distance, they saw a mountain with a flat top that looked like it had ears. They thought they could live on the top of that mountain so they climbed toward it. The water followed them.

At the top of the flat mountain, the chiefs gathered in council as they could see the water was still rising. It was because of their sins, they decided, that the water was rising.

They threw a dog into the water to appease it, but the water continued to rise. Next, they threw an elderly lady into the water, but the water spit her back.

Finally, they held council again and discovered a brother and sister who had had illicit relations. This was a grave sin, so they threw them in.

The water receded and two great rivers were made—one each for the young man and young woman.

After monsoon rains flooded a creek near Yung An Church, villagers pitched in to clear a road filled with boulders and debris.

When I heard this story, I was struck by the similarity with our own Bible story of Noah and the ark. That was another story where floodwaters delivered punishment. I wondered how old this Atayal tale was. Was it possible that there was some connection with Noah?

And here, I thought, I was hearing it first hand! I felt in awe of traditional cultures and the stories they have passed down for thousands of years. Here I was on the receiving end, and now I can tell it to others—an honor I cherish.

Not Enough, Too Much
Since the beginning of Atayal culture, water has been seen as a punishment for sins. There is either too much water or not enough. The balance of just enough water is also the balance of a healthy lifestyle, a healthy community.

Living on the island of Taiwan in the mountains, we depend upon the mountains for water. There is no government water service in this area; no water pipes buried beneath our roads.

One of the first things I had to learn when I came to the mountains was to wear protective clothing and venture into the jungle terrain to fix water pipes. I had to learn how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous snakes and plants. I had to learn which plants have strong roots so as you climb up a ravine, you can hold on to them to support your weight.

I had to learn how to step gingerly on unstable ground until you can push the excess loose dirt down the ravine and then pack a stable mound to step on without falling. I grew up as a city boy, but I learned to carve a path through the worst terrain Taiwan has to offer.

I did this because I needed water.

We have droughts here in the mountains, and I must work hard to maintain our church’s water system.

In the past, if there was an extended drought, the Atayals held a ceremony to bring back the rain. A long drought, they believe, is seen as unfaithfulness in not remembering their ancestors. This ceremony is lost now—a casualty to encroaching globalization and the dominant Taiwanese culture.

However, typhoons—not droughts—are the worst of our worries here in the mountains. Typhoons bring massive amounts of rain, causing rivers to swell and mud and rockslides to crash down on us. We feel not only the power of Heaven, but we also fear for our lives.

I have been stranded in the mountains several times during typhoons, sometimes for more than two weeks without electricity and, ironically, water.

When this happens, we collect rainwater, eat the food we have and share it with others. We then turn to the mountains for our nourishment — eating the healthful plants that are available.

After monsoon rains flooded a creek near Yung An Church, villagers pitched in to clear a road filled with boulders and debris.

Water has always been the destabilizing force in Atayal communities. When the water flows just right, we are in peace and harmony.

When the Catholic Church arrived here just more than 40 years ago, we began with catechism and baptism. In the local Atayal language, baptism is referred to as “church washing.” Water now brings rebirth to the people—an entrance into the community of God.

The Atayals still fear water, but now it is clearer that having the right amount of water, especially baptismal water, is also the balance of a healthy life and healthy faith community.