My Younger Brother @ Leader Village Taroko

My Younger Brother By Ming Lee Cheng

Our lives are truly strange: those that should be closest to us are often strangers. My relationship with Ming gang, my younger brother, was like that.

When Ming gang was born, our family was living in poverty—my father had been unemployed and bedridden for several years. As an infant, Ming gang didn't sleep on a bed, but instead was carried on my back. I was in my second year of elementary school then, and every day after school let out, my only thought was to find my classmates for a game of hopscotch or hide-and-seek; it was at those moments I found myself grudging that cumbersome “family burden” on my back. Despite my resentment at the time, looking back, I realize my brother and I actually spent more time apart than together. Starting from my fifth year of elementary school, cram schools had become a part of my life and I began to leave early and come home late; later, in high school, I lived away from home in the school dorms, and following graduation, I moved away to Taipei to first study, and later teach.

Our rural surroundings filled Ming gang’s childhood. At a time when it wasn't popular my brother adopted all sorts of animals he found wandering in the countryside. I don't know where he learned how, but somehow he cobbled together all types of houses for his new pets to live in. Of all his animal houses, the biggest were the pigeon houses, of which he built several, all lined up in a row on our roof. How he managed to attract pigeons that belonged to other families is beyond me, but those pigeons came and after awhile brought their friends, until we had a veritable crowd of pigeons contently eating and sleeping on our roof. Our family, when working or taking a break, had to always be careful to avoid the rain of bird poop that the birds whimsically dropped from the eaves; friends and family who weren’t aware of the situation often got hit. Reacting with cries of dismay, they always figured Ming gang as the culprit, and the whole family would blame him.

We lived in a dorm that was one in a long row of dormitories. The front and back of the dorms was overgrown with weeds and brush; a stone wall, whose nooks and crannies were a haven for snakes and insects, surrounded the entire grounds. The snakes would at times brazenly leave their home in the wall and crawl up onto our front yard. On one terrifying occasion, I found a poisonous snake (a bamboo viper, native to Taiwan) curled up asleep under one of our beds. Oddly enough, whenever a snake saw Ming gang, it went limp, and he easily grabbed it by its tail. Then, doing his best to avoid other family members (my father and fourth younger sister loved to eat snake meat), he ran fast as he could and deposited the snake in some far away place.

My father, with the help of the Bureau of Retirement, finally got a job at Zhu Dong Veterans Hospital and our family’s economic situation started to improve. I remember the day we bought our first second-hand bike, it was a proud moment for all of us. Being that the bike belonged to the whole family, I never guessed that Ming gang would one day ride off with it and give it to his classmate. When our family found out, he got a tongue lashing from both my mother and father, while my furious older sister literally escorted Ming gang back to his classmate’s house to retrieve our bike. They, however, came home empty handed. My sister somberly told us that their family was truly worse off than ours. This event, it seemed, only encouraged Ming gang. After that, he’d openly ask my father for money to give to his classmates, and when mid-autumn festival came around, he’d give half of our families’ moon cakes (which were a rare treat for us then) to his classmates.

The week that Ming gang started his third year of elementary school, I was in our yard playing with Little Snow, a small dog that had been raised by Ming gang. Suddenly, I heard a thud; turning around I saw that Ming gang had fallen into a dry concrete gutter. As he crawled out, his chin was a bloody mess. I stood there trembling, with no idea what to do. Wide eyed, I watched him lift his head back to staunch the flow of blood, and without a word, run to the hospital. Not long after he returned home alone, a dozen or more stitches in his chin. For the first time, I realized how strong my brother was.

Ming gang was the oldest son, and my father, mother and four sisters all shared an unspoken assumption that he’d take on the responsibilities that came with that position. This resulted in a lot of pressure being put on Ming gang. One of my older sisters, in order to save on cram school fees, even took it upon herself to be his tutor. This only made it harder for him to deal with his schoolwork, and his grades, naturally, didn’t get any better. This sort of vicious cycle of expectation would later befall my own son, who I, without hesitation, sent to live in far away Toronto to get him out from under that pressure. My son found re-birth in a new land, but Ming gang didn't have that chance; in those days, the older generation didn’t think like that—Ming gang had to find a way out on his own.

After graduating from middle school, Ming gang, on his own initiative, asked our mother if he could go to Taipei to be a trainee in an air-conditioning company—a position introduced to Ming gang by our neighbour’s mother. From that day on, Ming gang became entirely self-reliant, never again asking for a penny from our family.

Once a trainee, Ming gang decided to take the entrance exam for a Xi Hu trade school—a night school. About that time, I’d graduated from NTNU and had started my teacher training at Lan yang Girl’s Middle School. A year later, with my training done, I returned to Taipei and became occupied with my graduate studies and a full-time teaching job. I’d no clue about the details of Ming gang’s life, just a vague idea that after leaving the military, he got a job at the Howard Plaza Hotel in Taipei where he rose from maintenance team leader to hotel manager. Ten years later, he went to Hualian to take over preparations at Parkview hotel and eventually rose to deputy manager there.

Ming gang stayed at Parkview for eleven years, and in those years I never once went to see him. I heard he was doing a good job with the management there, but assumed that he had found a place in the business world by being ingratiating, or at the very least, a smooth talker.

In 2003, Ming Gang moved to Tarako Leader Village, near Tarako Gorge. It seemed our time as brother and sister had finally come. We met frequently, and our relationship began to renew itself. Being together, I realized Ming gang was still that little spud I loved.

II.

One day at a family reunion, Ming gang mentioned that the management rights at Taroko National Park’s newly built Taroko Village were up for grabs. Though he’d urged his former employer Parkview to make a bid, they’d showed no interest in the project; Ming gang then told us he was interested in taking over the village himself.

Taroko Village was not a flourishing enterprise. Even us sisters, with no experience in running a hotel, knew that if the 32 different kinds of cabins, (two-person, six-person, etc.) were filled to capacity every day, the hotel would still be hard pressed to turn a profit. We questioned the financial viability of the place, pointing out that except for weekends, the Central Cross-Island highway on which the hotel was located was empty of tourists. Why, we wondered, was the hotel worth his time and energy?

“It’s exactly because there is no chance to make a profit,” said Ming gang. “We can focus solely on making it a great hotel, something past managers weren’t willing to do since they were only concerned with the bottom line. Anyway, on the business end of things, I can promise that we’ll at least break even.”

To fully stamp your vision on a hotel, no matter what the size, you have to be the major controlling partner. As such, making a bid for Taroko Village was Ming gang’s only choice. The location had charm, and if the siblings pooled their resources it was possible to cover general maintenance and upkeep. For the bid, however, Ming gang needed to ask his former boss Mr. Lin, now general manager of a company called Li De, to step in as a co-bidder. We sisters lived simply, so whether our account balance was 1 or 10 million NT, it wouldn’t effect our lifestyle much. Anyway, we all assumed that the money we were giving to Ming gang was his to “play” with in his new project; once given, we didn't expect it to return.

Ming gang’s salary while working at Parkview was 120,000 a month. He didn’t drink or smoke, he had no children, dressed simply, and spent all his time working at the hotel—he simply had no time to spend his money. It wasn’t until he started on his plan of managing Taroko Village that we discovered he’d somehow managed to save nothing. Furthermore, under the new management plan, Ming gang was only giving himself a salary of 60,000 a month. With an income of 120,000 a month, Ming gang hadn’t saved a penny, and now with an income half that, it was clear to us that we would have to support him.

At the first general bidding for Taroko Village, none of the offered bids were accepted. At the second bidding, although twelve hotels had registered, only two actually tendered a bid—not surprising for a piece of property so lacking in commercial value. In the end, Li De and Ming gang easily won the bid. That year, 2003, Taroko Village was theirs.

It was later that my brother told me Taroko Village was originally constructed as an experiment. It was supposed to be a sort of “rustic” inn—and that it was. At the time of the bidding, rough planks of wood functioned as doors and shutters, balconies had no railings, the eight-person dorm rooms lacked bathrooms, and the bathrooms in the two-person rooms were so small that it was impossible to take a shower without getting everything else wet. The hotel lacked service ramps, a reception area, a kitchen, and the list went on.

Ming gang had won the bid, but now the hard work began. His first step was to convince the head of Taroko National Park Service that Tarako Village, as a hotel, should be brought up to international standards. That accomplished, the director then took him to see the director of the Construction and Planning Agency, who Ming gang convinced to allocation funds towards the improvement of Taraoko Village—of course, Li De was also responsible for part of the renovation.

In order to save money, and because Ming gang was a skilled electrician and handy-man, many of the renovation projects were handled by Ming gang himself; he often brought one or more of the hotel employees along to help with these projects and soon many of them (even the cook) became handy-men in their own right.

On September 24^th 2004, Taroko Village opened its doors to the public. After a packed grand opening, at which many government officials and dignitaries were present, the hotel’s occupancy rate remained far below what Ming gang had anticipated; his promise that the hotel would break even began to weigh heavily on him. Seeing Ming gang in such a worried state evoked a feeling of deep fraternal love in me; I found myself wanting to be closer to him, to learn more about who he was.

III.

Attending the grand opening were several travel writers, all of whom would later write that Ming gang’s continual outpouring of creativity was one of his most important qualities. Reading these articles, I remember feeling slightly shocked: I was hearing something from strangers that I, a close family member, had never known.

So, I started hunting around for information about Ming gang and his time at Parkview. Bringing up Parkview’s website, I saw that an employee had quoted one of Ming gang’s favourite expressions: “There is no such thing as poor business, just poor effort.” The more I read about my brother, the more intrigued I became.

As I continued, I found myself following the growth of a man with unique talents, a man whose personal philosophy and ideals were wedded to a kind heart and brilliant mind. What surprised me most, however, was how he’d managed to infuse elements of cultural innovation within the tourism industry. It seemed the goals and ideals of Ming gang’s eleven years at Parkview had, strangely enough, followed along the same lines as my own work in cultural studies, only that he’d managed to put more of it into actual practice, with better results, and with a patience and determination that far exceed my own.

One of the first things Ming gang did upon arriving at Parkview was co-ordinate several events between the Hualian Tourist Bureau and the Cultural Affairs Bureau— something that Parkview, with 350 rooms, was well equipped to handle. In the wake of its success, several government agencies hired Ming gang to oversee the planning of their own upcoming events, and so Ming gang, who was already serving on the advisory planning committee of the Cultural Affairs Bureau and Cultural Center, soon found himself working with a whole range of government groups, the Social Affairs Bureau, the EPA, the Health Bureau, etc.

Ever active, Ming gang planned events all sorts and sizes, from activities of the Community Development Center, to international art festivals and national tourism weeks. Paging through these events, it was evident that as the events got bigger, Ming gang’s creativity became bolder. Even going back a few years, the creativity present in his first work with environmentally friendly dragon boat races and traditional craft competitions made one stand up and take note.

One day, as Ming gang was picking me up at New Village train station, he pointed to the grayish walls and said, “I'd really like to renovate this building using a sort of aboriginal design scheme; if I get the chance, I’ll talk to the local government about it.” My response was maybe he had enough on his plate with Taroko Village. His reply, though, took me by surprise: “I’ve lived in Hualian for a long time now; I feel a kinship to this place, a bond that runs deeper than many locals. Every day I think of how Hualian could be developed into a location with local charm and international appeal.”

While listening to Ming gang’s dreams concerning Hualian county, I couldn’t help but quietly sigh, his dreams—so big that they reached all corners of Hualian county—had no choice but to shrink to fit this tiny slice of Hualian: Taroko Village.

IV.

After a run of success in the management of Parkview, Ming gang began to promote an activity that he was particularly fond of: introducing local culture and art within hotels. At Parkview, he set up a cultural gallery, followed soon by the creation of an “art village” located on the hotel grounds. My brother, who as a boy couldn’t write a proper composition to save his life, was now unearthing local talent and promoting them to the public. He began offering a space at Parkview for artists to display and sell their work. Ming gang’s favourite was Hualian’s own aboriginal art; carvings of wood or stone, weavings, paintings, and song and dance performances of such prominent Taroko tribal artists as Lin Zheng-zhang, Liu Jin-de, Cheng Jian-zao, along with Zhang Mei-niang from the A-mei tribe, had all been part of the exhibition at one time or another.

Another of Ming gang’s pleasures was helping the less fortunate; as such, he often worked with those groups involved in the cause. For example, every year on the day of Parkview’s anniversary, he’d invite a different charity group to the hotel for an evening gala and dinner—all free of charge. Past groups included the Bethesda School or Hualian School of Special Education, where both students and faculty were invited to attend. Ming gang would also set out a donation box in the hotel for these organizations, and every year would organize a donation drive at Parkview—often with a creative twist. There would be charity bazaars selling “artist coffee”, sculptures, even Christmas lights; or people could pay to hit a lucky drum and make a wish, etc. The money received was then donated to the Hualian Social Affairs Bureau, where it was used to help Hualian’s poor and underprivileged. Working with these groups, Ming gang would always just charge enough cover hotel expenses. His work reached out to the whole community—even sculptures of elementary school students and community college students’ were displayed at Parkview.

Ming gang not only worked to help the poor and less privileged, he did so with a creative flair. An example would be Hualian’s dragon boat race. Every year in June, dragon boat races would be held all over Taiwan. Hoping to make Hualian’s own race stand out from the pack, Ming gang hit on the idea of a dragon boat design competition—creating environmentally friendly dragon boats. He then modeled a dragon boat built entirely from discarded materials. The idea caught on, other groups joined the competition, and soon the race of dragon boats—made entirely of discarded junk— became a well-known event in Hualian. As the race grew in popularity, Ming gang suggested the organizers invite the military and members of the prison population to join. Although the military rejected the invitation, the prison population enthusiastically embraced the chance to participate. Prisoners from prisons all over Taiwan signed up, and often boasted some of the strongest teams. One year a group of head-shaved inmates showed up for the race (a sight slightly shocking to some) with a dragon boat whose “scales” were cleverly crafted out of beer bottle caps. The eventual winners for that year, the inmates’ fighting spirit during the race eventually won the appreciation of the spectators that day, who showered them with applause.

As I read about these dragon boat races, I suddenly grasped an important message, something that shook the foundations of my life in academia: Culture did not need the classroom, but could be cultivated in events like those Ming gang had organized!

In the past, I’d always held to the opinion that business would only pollute the purity of culture; I never dreamed that Ming gang would find a way to combine business and art into a workable model—not only were the events he organized a success in their own right, but they had a sustained impact on society at large. The Formosa Aboriginal Song and Dance Troupe, for example, put on several performances during one of my visits to Taroko Village. They made a traditional aboriginal food called “du lun”, held a harvest festival, a fishing festival, and an ancestor worship festival. Each event allowed me glimpse into a slice of life I’d never seen before. Some time after, several companies hired Ming gang to draw up a “self-strengthening” activity for their employees. Ming gang worked hard on both the content and format of the event; at its finish many employees said they’d left with a real sense of having learned something. The organizers of the event and the company owners repeatedly thanked Ming gang for his work. For Ming gang, their thanks made his hard work worthwhile. These events, one after another, finally made it clear to me where Ming gang found value and meaning in his life.

I have always seen the restoration and maintenance of culture in Taiwan to be a pressing task, and while literature is only a small part of the entire spectrum known as culture, as a professor of literature, I know that children can be taught to understand and enjoy literature and to use it to nourish the soul. In the past, in hopes of reaching a bigger audience, I accepted the post of Secretary General at the Taiwan Chapter of the Young Writers Association. Part of my job was to travel around Taiwan giving speeches on literature as well as holding literature workshops. Although members of our association traveled far and wide in Taiwan, we found the number of readers of literature continued to shrink. Several years ago, on my way to a speech in Chia-yi, I read that 60,000 teenagers had shown up to see a pop-group in concert; those attending were so tightly packed that many suffered broken ribs. Reflecting on my own talks in comparison, where if fifty people showed up it was a full-house, I questioned if my efforts were having any effect. It was obvious that the answer was no, and so, I sadly decided to say goodbye to my work with the Association.

Observing Ming gang at work, I thought back to my efforts in promoting cultural activities and realized what had been missing. And as I began to better understand my brother, I felt inspired to return to the task of cultural promotion. During my visits to Taroko village, I meet many people and listened to what they had to say, and I realized that the number of educated elite in Taiwan was not only remaining steady, but was even increasing. Slowly, my pessimistic attitude changed and I recovered a faith that had been discarded many years prior.

When dealing with people and day-to-day affairs of Taroko Village, Ming gang exhibited several positive traits whose number and strength far exceeded my own. He had a humanness when looking after others; a creativity that took people by surprise; an unselfish attitude when in service, and a work ethic that surpassed those around him. Everyone that had ever worked or met Ming gang liked him, tended to heap praise on him, and found something in him that they could identify with. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that my brother—“the young fool”—was finding continual recognition and affirmation in society.

Going from Parkview, a hotel with 350 rooms, to Taroko Village with only 32, could be seen as a step backward—something like to going from a major corporation to a cottage industry. The projects that awaited Ming gang if he stayed at Parkview were many, as was the local talent, which he could continue to manage. In sum, with his vision and ability, his future at Parkview was bright. However, he decided to leave all that behind to take over Taroko village and focus his energies solely on the people of the Taroko tribe.

I asked him why he’d decided to focus solely on the aboriginals of the Taroko tribe. His reply was that that the standing of aboriginals in Taiwan was already low, and among the various tribes themselves, the aboriginals of Taroko occupied the lowest rank. In total, their tribe only numbered 20,000, while the mountains that made up their traditional home were wholly unsuitable to rice cultivation; they had no choice but to gather large amounts of a certain mountain bean to trade for corn with the A-mei tribe. A hotel employee once told me that because money is always an issue at the hotel (they only have 32 rooms to support the 22 hotel staff), and since the land on which the hotel is built had been a center of operations of the Taroko tribe for 300 years, members of the Taroko tribe were always given priority when hiring.

This makes sense, I thought. When facing the ancestral spirits of the Taroko people and using their property; developing their resources; enjoying the fruits of their past labours, how can one, “not think of the source when drinking the water?”

The area around Taroko Village was blessed with amazing scenery, what remained was to bring up the building and facilities of Taroko Village to international standards—a relatively easy task with the right amount of money. Yet, just as important, if not more, was to need establish a sort of the “cultural quality” within the village. Here Ming gang made full use of his creativity and artistic sense. Using the mountains and valley scenery as a backdrop, along with aboriginal schemes he knew so well, Ming gang occupied himself with the location of each tree and bush, every table and chair—the spirit of Taroko village was filled with Ming gang’s individual style. Ming gang, I came to see, was a self trained artist and Taroko Village, his creation. The art there was a living thing, and with passage of time it would change, grow, and mature—as if Taroko Village were an organic being. Seeing this, my heart filled with hope.

Reading through Ming gang’s experiences was like a journey of discovery into one person’s growth. Once I had fully understood that my brother was a man worthy of respect, I couldn’t help but feel it was a pity that he and I were related. If he were a stranger, perhaps an artist I’d discovered while judging performances, or a talented student in class, I could list his qualities for the world to see, as well as recommend him to others and give him the encouragement he deserved.

Regardless, I’ve never tried to “sell” family member. Perhaps I’ve been selfish? Or a victim of a mental block? However, after a period of indecision and reflection, I finally decided to overrule my hesitation and tell the world the ideas in my heart.

No matter if Ming gang is managing a hotel, dealing with employees, working with cultural events, or thinking new recreational activities, I am convinced that his efforts can overcome any challenges he will face in the future. As a sister, I should be able to proudly and happily proclaim: “He is my brother.” I should be able to, without embarrassment, introduce Ming gang to the world, a world that needs people with genius and character like him.

Recently I’ve felt that the ideals held by my brother and I are slowly becoming one and the same. Whether in the classroom or in Taroko Village, both of us strive for the recognition and acknowledgement of our ideas, our actions, and their results, by those in world whom we respect; we hope that these people can, in turn, to guide and support us.