"I lived here when I was small. My brothers and sisters all slept in a cradle woven by my mother's own hand. Today I have settled into this home, and brought my soul here to stay, so now I can write with peace of mind."

On March 5, Auvini put the last stone slab on his ancestral home, which faces North Tawu Mountain, in Haucha Village. The restoration of the house was finally completed. Auvini made offerings to his ancestors, did some last minute arranging, and then set to work on a series of writing projects. Smoke from the cooking stove, not seen in the village for 15 years, flew down Chingpu Mountain and danced among the birds and animals playing in the forests.

Though this stone-encased living space is small, every day the sun shines in at daybreak, and the air is full of warmth and happiness. Moreover, the impact on Auvini has been enormous, because this is no longer a pile of rubble but is now a home.

Although stone houses are not big, they make you feel at home.

Rebuilding the stone houses

After Auvini returned to the village with Ah Yi, Hunter, and Little Tiger, the four of them spent 15 days reconstructing the house. They worked when they felt like it, and rested when they wanted to. They didn't force themselves to do anything. They used hammers, tape measures, pickaxes, and machetes to first set the beams, and then to cut the stones into appropriately sized pieces. The quartet built up the thick stone walls piece by piece using traditional construction methods. They completed the structure by constructing the roof out of stone slabs pieced together one at a time. To make the dwelling more comfortable, they stood stone slabs around the four walls inside the house, and constructed a traditional toilet outside.

The main materials are beams and flat stone slabs. In the past the construction of a house was a major community affair, and everyone would pitch in to find stones. Just above the red juniper forests is an area where people used to collect stones--lighter in color and also firmer--for roofs, facades, or floors. There is another quarrying area along the mountain road to Taitung. The stones from there, darker in color, were used to construct the walls. "Some of these sheets of stone could weigh hundreds of kilos, and it took several strong young men the better part of a day to move one to the village," says Auvini.

Because of a shortage of helping hands, the house that Auvini has just built has been made entirely out of stones found on the original site of the village. Because stone is so durable, the old stones proved perfectly usable, and there turned out to be no need to collect new ones.

The beams were also found on the site. But these were only taken after talking to the original owners and paying a small fee for the right to use them.

In general the beams in the old houses lasted a long time. This is because the homes were heated with fires, and there was always cooking going on, so that insects could not survive the smoke. Also, because the beams would sag (albeit only slightly) over time, every two years during renovations the beams would be turned over to resist the force of gravity, thus keeping them as good as new.

It was customary to renovate the houses and rearrange the stones every two years because typhoons or earthquakes would periodically dislodge some, creating leaks. Because the houses were built with no bolts or nails, renovation was rather a simple task.

The interior is simple; a mat makes a good bed.

House of the spirits

Rukai houses were designed to be high in back and low in front. This design served a defensive function.

In the past, the windows in the houses were small, large enough only to stick one's head through. Because the young men were mostly away hunting, leaving only the women and small children at home, it was easier for the women to guard against suspicious-looking strangers in dwellings of this type. "This may be why the Rukai, who are small in numbers, could survive amidst powerful neighbors," opines Auvini.

Rukai houses all had individual names to represent the family. The surname representing the members of the dwelling also symbolized their status and role within the community. In principle, names were passed along from the father to the eldest son, and the house went with the name.

Auvini's family name is Kalisman. It means "central pillar" in Rukai. "It is not only a concrete symbol of the center, it also abstractly suggests the core," explains Auvini. His ancestors were skilled hunters, and often had a surplus to distribute to members of the tribe, and people would come to their house to eat or to pick up food.

The central pillar was the most sacred place in the home, and was the protective deity of the household. On the central pillar of the chief's home was carved the story of the clan's origins. The sacredness extended to a niche in the back of the house, and to the clay jar stored in the niche. Auvini's ancestors were at one time second-level nobility. But their status steadily declined because of intermarriage with commoner women, so the family had no carvings on the pillar.

Each dwelling was divided into three units: the main room, the auxiliary room, and the front garden. The former two were interior spaces, the latter exterior. The main room was the center of activity; the right hand side was the good side, the left hand side the bad. The whole family slept together on one large mat.

Auvini is delighted by how smoothly the renovation went.

Ancestors beneath the stones

Like the Puyuma, the Rukai buried deceased family members under their houses. Their reasoning was that "family members are not animals, so why should they be buried out in the fields where they will suffer from the wind and rain?" explains Auvini.

The method of burial was as follows: The body was placed in a bent over sitting position, then wrapped in cloth. However, the right hand was left outside the cloth, symbolizing the hope that the deceased would "bless his (or her) descendants with the right hand." The corpse was then placed in the hole by the eldest son or nearest kin, facing the direction in which the sun set. This is because the Rukai believed that death was like the setting of the sun. The body was buried as deeply as possible below the stone floor of the house so that no odors would pass into the house to disturb the living.

After burial, the mud and stones were replaced, and the cracks between the stones filled with ash from the fireplace. A straw mat was then spread on top, and the family member who buried the body would sleep on the grave for twenty days to insure that the deceased was peacefully settled in.

Auvini states that burial places differed depending upon the status of the deceased. Men who died a natural death were buried in front of the central pillar, while women were interred under the sleeping platform. Those who died in accidents were buried beneath the wood pile, behind and to the right of the central pillar, while suicides were interred behind and to the left of the central pillar. It was not deemed appropriate to bury those who died in accidents or by suicide with those who succumbed to natural causes. Families hoped that by setting these bodies off from those who died naturally, they could avoid having any other members of the family fall victim to similar unnatural deaths.

The tradition of home burials meant that the dead would never be lonesome, because they resided only a stone floor away from the living. The deceased were aware of everything that happened in the house, so that older Rukai often warned against using foul language in the house so as to avoid offending their ancestors. If someone outside the house cursed those within, the dead would act against whoever cast the insults. The Rukai also believed that their ancestors could help protect them against invaders.

Older Haucha residents recall that during the Japanese occupation (1895-1945), the colonial rulers devoted a great deal of time and effort, and gave large funereal gifts, to finally convince the Rukai to bury their dead outside the house. It is said that the Rukai at that time were profoundly saddened, because they believed that their ancestors, abandoned to the wilds, would never rest in peace.

This deep Rukai respect for their forebears is also reflected in the practice of sprinkling a few drops of alcohol on the floor with one's fingers before drinking: The gesture symbolizes the sharing of the libation with the deceased.

Curious tourists can't help but destroy the ambience of Old Haucha to some degree.

A dialogue in a stone house

Auvini was determined to return to the mountains because of his love for the stone houses and the old traditions.

Since settling in, he has concentrated on his writing. He has already produced essays about Taitung's Tanan and Wutai villages. He is also writing a column for the papers on "The Land and People" of Haucha. This year he was awarded a publishing subsidy by the Shun Yi Aboriginal Museum, and he plans to produce a book.

Auvini is currently writing the life story of the last sculptor of Haucha. He is also recording the history of Old Haucha. He has already traced back the lineage of each and every household in the community, so there is no problem in drawing up family genealogies.

But he feels there is little significance to just figuring out who is related to whom. He also is making a written record of anecdotes about the lives of all the households. For the last three to four years he has been doing intensive field research, and has interviewed numerous tribal elders. He has all his notes and data, and all he needs to do now is write this community history up.

Auvini expects that this community history will be 500 to 600 pages long, and will take two or three years to complete.

His greatest difficulty in writing is to express the nuances of the Rukai language. He is anxious to translate the beauty of the poetry into Chinese, but he is often stumped because there are no Chinese words that capture the full meaning of the Rukai. "Sometimes I spend the whole day just trying to think up one phrase." This is the main obstacle holding up progress. It is especially a problem with many Rukai myths, which are rich in meanings that are difficult to express in Chinese.

Furthermore, spoken Rukai has a great variety of cadences. Sometimes it is not enough to write out the language. Only with face-to-face explanations or through tapes can one understand how the same phrases can have disparate meanings under different conditions. Auvini has still not figured out how to resolve this problem.

A group of formosan barbets resting in the trees is something rarely se en in other parts of Taiwan.

Writing is the first priority

After Auvini's "return to Old Haucha," many may wonder whether he can really fill his belly just by writing. How does he meet his immediate practical needs?

For water, Auvini installed a plastic pipe to bring water to the village. He also cleared some land and planted vegetables. The greenery adds a great deal of life to the scene. As for his staple foods, friends and visitors often bring food up the mountain and leave behind rice and noodles. If he really has nothing to eat, he will ask a friend to go down the mountain to buy some supplies for him.

In any case Auvini doesn't place much emphasis on food. "It's true I don't eat nutritiously when I'm writing. But the important thing is that I can get into the souls of my ancestors and become one with the memories of Old Haucha." As of now, his house is completed, and he is all moved in, indicating that the dream of returning to Old Haucha has taken a giant step forward.

[Picture Caption]

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(left) Piecing together stone slabs, it took Auvini fifteen days to complete the reconstruction of his stone house.

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Although stone houses are not big, they make you feel at home.

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The interior is simple; a mat makes a good bed.

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Auvini is delighted by how smoothly the renovation went.

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Curious tourists can't help but destroy the ambience of Old Haucha to some degree.

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A group of formosan barbets resting in the trees is something rarely seen in other parts of Taiwan.

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A wild orchid on the road to Old Haucha.

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Auvini has begun a series of writing projects, and hopes more Rukai people will go back up the mountains to live.

A wild orchid on the road to Old Haucha.

Auvini has begun a series of writing projects, and hopes more Rukai people will go back up the mountains to live.

After his right arm was amputated, Ah-chiang drew with his left hand for three days and three nights before giving this drawing to "auntie," his trusted friend. How the formerly active Ah-chiang longed for the drawing's bicycle and garden bench! （courtesy of Wu Yu-yuan）

Little Kuan-hong had no time to grow up, but through the efforts of Mak e-A-Wish Foundation, he was able to serve as a happy soldier. （courtesy of Kuan-hong's mother）

A meeting with Snow White is no longer just the stuff of fantasy. With a lot　of people's help, severely ill children can have their dreams come true. （courtesy of Make-A-Wish Foundation）