Wufeng and the Pasta’ay Festival
Friendship
Foreigners are not always allowed to participate in the ceremonies. On some days, they might be ushered out before midnight, while on other days they might only be allowed to join after midnight. However, when you are not participating in the ceremonies, you can join in on the fun surrounding the event.
When
we arrived it was already around 9 or 10 PM. We waited in line to receive our
grass armbands, which serve the dual purpose of protecting you from the spirits
of the dwarves, and welcoming you as a friend. For me, that last part is the crux of the festival. For one week, the spirit of friendship that once bonded the Saisiyat and the Da Ai is alive in everyone, and no matter how much of an ignorant foreigner you are, you are welcome.
Ama Casts her Spell
This was all quite hilarious for everyone involved, and the
night was off to an excellent start. We bought a couple of bottles of millet
wine and sauntered off for food, but that was not the last of Ama.
Happiness
When
we saw an entire pig being slow roasted over a fire, we stopped for a bite. I
was quickly invited to carve up the meat from the pig, after a quick lesson
from one of the men working there. Considering that I got not a single confused
look from anyone at the festival, I imagine they often try to show their
hospitality to foreigners this way. I was more than happy to assist. It was
thirsty work though, and Ama’s kindness and generosity reeled me back in for more millet wine. I was
hooked.
Sitting
around a table with friends and wine, eating spit-roast pork while the Saisiyat
chanted in the background, we wanted for nothing. Except more wine. Ama’s face
circled in and out of the night, as I became too happy to care about limits.
Whirlwind
Spirits, Spiritedness and Spirituality
The
next morning in Nanzhuang, the Hakka village where our hostel was, people were
asleep on the sidewalk, ambulances carted away the drunk, and I nursed my
hangover. I could have reflected on the amazing hospitality the Saisiyat had shown us, the vibrancy of their culture or the spiritual meaning of the festival, but my mind could only sputter a single group of words: Ama, why did you have to be so nice?
Rough morning. |
No comments:
Post a Comment