A Rare Gem Among Indigenous Maritime Peoples
In the heart of the island, among the peaks of Danda Mountain, once roamed a group of hunters, dark as shadows, navigating the rugged terrain with agility. These robust and stout figures excelled in the dense underbrush and possessed powerful legs, well-suited for scaling lofty ridges. Driven by the need to sustain their lineage, they ceaselessly pursued new hunting grounds. This is a serene, mountain-dwelling people who call themselves the Bunun — the “Real People.” Their lives were entwined with the rocky crags and vast expanses of cloud seas, while the ocean remained an uncharted, unnamed blue horizon they had never seen.
Yet, within this highland tribe known as the Bunun, there emerged a group that migrated to the coast, casting nets and diving for fish! The grandfather of Ma Zhongyuan, the leader of the Gaoshan Forest Tribal Ranch, was Ma Dashan, a skilled shaman and hunter. In search of better living conditions, he ventured from the island’s heart to its edge decades ago, becoming part of the first Bunun group to live by the sea, dive into its depths, and embrace Amis culture.
The story dates back to 1933, when the Japanese government, aiming to weaken the Bunun’s influence, relocated large groups of the Danshe community to the Mayuan Village in the Huatung Valley. Among them was young Ma Dashan, who was forced to leave Mai-asang (Note 1) in Nantou. However, he did not settle there but continued eastward. Standing on the ridges of the Coastal Mountain Range, he gazed upon a sight the Bunun had never before beheld — the Pacific Ocean!
From mountains to the sea, this highland people found the ocean.
After Japan’s defeat, Ma Dashan gradually called upon seven families of relatives to join him, thus establishing the present-day Gaoshan tribe in Qizaki Village, numbering fewer than one hundred people. In addition to the Amis, Kavalan, and Sakizaya tribes, there are also Hakka and Minnan people from mainland China. Following Ma Dashan’s migration here, the distances between these ethnic groups were no longer vast and insurmountable but rather like the meandering tidal lines on the sea, mingling and blending harmoniously
If my grandfather had not single-handedly crossed the Coastal Mountain Range to settle in this land of diverse peoples, I wouldn’t feel that we are different.” The Bunun people of Qizaki Village have always been a minority, living with their short and sturdy frames, constantly attracting curious glances. From a young age, Ma Zhongyuan always felt different from others. “No one ever properly explained why the Bunun, a people of the mountains, ended up by the sea. Our dark skin and short stature stood in stark contrast to the tall maritime tribes around us, making us feel out of place.
From elementary school, when classmates played at the beach, Ma Zhongyuan had to follow his father up the mountains to hunt and carry supplies. “Before every trip, we would prepare meticulously: grinding lead, loading gunpowder, my father sharpening knives, and readying the hunting rifles. We mostly remained silent, as if both body and mind were preparing for the journey into the mountains.” Even the most restless child could sense the focus and reverence that his father maintained through these rituals.
Ma Zhongyuan’s father would say, ‘We are merely taking what we need from the forest.’ The animals that appeared before them were seen as gifts from the divine, and they took only what was necessary. From preparing supplies, praying before entering the forest, observing and waiting, to capturing, bleeding, carrying the game down the mountain, and sharing the bounty… ‘Even if we repeat the same tasks every day, no detail should be overlooked.’ His father always remained silent, but his actions conveyed all the wisdom.
Some seeds require external conditions to awaken from dormancy. During his formative years, Ma Zhongyuan, burdened by economic and academic pressures, had to let the seeds planted by his father remain dormant. It wasn’t until his thirties, facing a bottleneck in his military career and lacking the motivation to continue, that he thought of returning home. Thus, the seeds of the Coastal Bunun, introduced by his grandfather and sown by his father, finally began to sprout in the third generation with Ma Zhongyuan, decades later.
The greatest driving force came from his formative experiences and steadfast faith,” thus he decided to return home to start his own business. As Ma Zhongyuan grew older, he finally understood the valuable Bunun spirit his father instilled in him through daily example: sharing, moderation, and humility. Transitioning from agriculture to tourism, Ma Zhongyuan established the Highland Forest Base, transforming the ancestral mountain knowledge into a cultural hunting experience. This allows visitors to appreciate the unique value of the Coastal Bunun.
With the addition of Xu Jianxi, a partner with a background in psychology, the base has expanded to include adventure therapy experiences and corporate team-building programs.
“Adventure has always been a part of Bunun culture. Back then, wasn’t my grandfather just leading those seven families in a team-building exercise?” Ma Zhongyuan said with a smile.
Some stories need to be told, to be remembered.” It was by returning home and asking the elders about the migration tales that the fragments of Coastal Bunun’s heritage were gradually unearthed. Those brilliant, pearl-like memories, with the early passing of his father and the gradual loss of village elders, have slowly become buried in the sands of time…
It was only after Ma Zhongyuan had the next generation that he realized this forgotten history must be revived in his time to have a chance to alter the Coastal Bunun’s cycle of impoverishment. For generations, the Coastal Bunun have drifted between the mountains and the sea, repeatedly facing the loss of traditional territories, self-identity, and cultural values. Consequently, Ma Zhongyuan applied for the Ministry of Culture’s “Youth Village Cultural Action Plan” to conduct a comprehensive field study.
Because stories need to be told to be remembered. He hopes that the field research will showcase the Coastal Bunun, with the elders’ repeated reminders of tamasaz (Note 2) and their sharp, steady gaze like the edge of a blade (Note 3). What he wants to leave for his children are the trees and streams where they played carefree in childhood, the cultural heritage of the Bunun, no longer the difficult identity puzzle he faced as a child.
As the field research progressed, I increasingly felt similar to my grandfather. It was never about the skills but the mindset: the innovative thinking of constant movement for the continuation of life. That is why he became a pioneer and trailblazer.’ Ma Zhongyuan’s father also chose to move from the highland village to Guian, just a kilometer away, where theirs was the only Bunun family among Amis and Sakizaya people. This allowed for deeper interactions with other tribes and the opportunity to learn more coastal living skills.
My father often said that the Bunun people are very practical. When they came to Qizaki, they learned the aesthetics of living from the Amis people; and the Bunun’s cultural skills gave them the ability to humbly move into others’ villages.” The cultural integration with various tribes allowed these Coastal Bunun to forge their own path.
Already disconnected from their original homeland and now surrounded by different tribes, their culture was bound to be gradually diluted. Ma Zhongyuan calmly speaks of ‘transition’ rather than ‘inheritance,’ because both the region and the reality have changed. The cultural traditions of their ancestral lands had long been disrupted by Japan’s pacification methods and the Nationalist Government’s Sinicization policies. “What we can do is preserve the history of the Coastal Bunun while taking a turn to reinterpret it in an innovative, valuable, and artistic way.” This way, the children understand that while we are different, this difference fosters confidence rather than inferiority.
Suddenly, he recalled a passage by Natsume Sōseki: “When my heartbeat stops, if a new life lingers in your heart, I will be content.” For this small group of Coastal Bunun, their ancestors left behind not traditions, but beliefs and faith, which resonate in the hearts of the younger generation.
Though the Coastal Bunun differ from their ancestral homeland, the sea breeze has etched wrinkles into their skin, and their eyes have embraced the ocean. Look at the waves rolling across the sea—don’t they resemble the undulating mountains?”
*This article was published in PULIMA LINK By: Ouyang Mengzhi.
Mina Ou-Yang (minaoy@gmail.com ). A non-native of Hualien, I am a freelance worker who moved here, drawn by the allure of the grand mountains, vast oceans, trees, and whales. If I could sow seeds with my words along the thorny paths of gender, age, culture, and environment, I believe I could lived happily ever after.
Note 1: mai-asang: In the Bunun language, it means hometown or ancestral land.
Note 2: tamasaz: In the Bunun language, it signifies strength, bravery, and persistence.
Note 3: Men as sharp as blades: mamangan tu bunun is the term used by the Bunun tribe to refer to hunters.
