The sea looked calm in the distance. The woman held the hand of a small boy--her first child since marrying a Taiwanese man. "'Your husband is much older than you. You married him because ...' Nga blushed and replied, 'It is to do with luck, and life too.' I asked, 'Are you happy?' Nga's answer made me feel a sense of relief." So writes Vi Thi Tuyet in her short story titled "The Seaside," which won first prize in a nationwide competition Dec. 16. The theme of the writing and photography contest was Taiwan's "new immigrants."


Vi Thi is a Vietnamese care assistant who works in a village by the sea in Kaohsiung County. Through daily outings with the elderly patient in her care, she met many people in the area, including her compatriot Nga. "The Seaside" contains impressions of her many meetings with Nga, as well as the author's thoughts about living a life so far away from home.


The distinct picture that emerged from Vi Thi's words was complimented perfectly by the accompanying photo of the mother with her son, said Hoang Oanh, one of the jury members, after the award ceremony. "This is what made her piece stand out," she said.


Hoang, who won first prize in the same competition two years ago, said she was touched by many of the stories she read. She emphasized how the entries reminded her of her own experience of making a home outside Vietnam, after she married a Taiwanese businessman and settled down in Taipei City.


With the title "Image/Story of the New Immigrants," the contest was organized by the New Frontier Foundation, an organization that was set up by Taiwan's ruling Democratic Progressive Party to focus on community services. Hsu Chia-tien, who was in charge of organizing the event, said the number of submitted pieces was double that of the last competition two years ago, with foreigners and Taiwanese taking part.


The term "new immigrant" has recently been adopted to describe any non-native person who has attained Taiwanese citizenship through marriage, being mostly women from China and other Southeast Asian countries. They were previously called "foreign brides," a term deemed as discriminatory by rights groups.


Being identified in a favorable light or even as an individual has been hard over the years for immigrants, particularly as newspapers usually only mention foreign spouses when it comes to statistics--how many are presently in Taiwan, for example. In addition, media reports of domestic violence and fake marriages have done little except to help aggravate animosity between people and strengthen the negative stereotype of cross-cultural relationships.


"These days, it is particularly amazing that imported goods are more expensive than local ones, while 'imported' people are worth far less than locals," Hoang pointed out. "The good thing is that through this contest, our new neighbors can tell us their heartfelt opinions. Life as an immigrant is difficult because you are not always able to discern respect from other people, even if it does exist," she said, "Yet now we can be aware of people's feelings."


The combination of images and words is undoubtedly a powerful medium for expression, and the contest allowed for even more creativity because works could be submitted in the author's native language, said Yang Tsung-rong, a member of the jury and a professor at National Taiwan Normal University. "This really is a great opportunity for us to learn and interact with different cultures," he said during the ceremony.


"Horse of Leaves" by Chen Chung-yu and Zeng Jing-wun took the top spot in the category for Taiwanese participants. It was a story about two women playing a game they used to play as children. The accompanying photo was taken in a community workshop in Kaohsiung where foreign wives were encouraged to share their experiences in a theater-like setting. "We asked them what games they used to play as children. It turned out that most games were the same as we used to play in Taiwan when we were young," Chen said. "In the end, they chose a single game they would like to play again and introduce other people to, which was riding a horse made of banana leaves."


Though a lot of foreign nationals participated in the contest due to encouragement from their Chinese teachers at government-funded classes, this year saw many "new immigrants" taking part under their own initiatives. Liu Yi-kun from China, for example, submitted the work "Courage," which comprised of a letter to her 4-year-old son and a picture of him participating in a summer camp designed to introduce children to the aboriginal Atayal culture. Liu was divorced two years ago and is now raising her son alone. She will become a naturalized citizen in half a year, a status that has taken eight years.


"Cultures disappear if nobody takes care of them, so people should prevent that from happening by actively taking part in them," Liu said, explaining why she sent her son to the camp. In "Courage," she instructs her son in the spirit of courage, making clear to him how aborigines work together to bring home meat from their hunting trips to share with other members of the tribe. Minority groups, either indigenous groups or "new immigrants," should work together to help one another, she writes.


Leaving aside the issue of identity, some of the best stories were seen as being concerned with love and life in general. For example, Kana Lin, who defied her parents in Vietnam by dropping out of school aged 20 to get married, contributed a piece depicting the way she managed to make a small family for herself in Taiwan.


"I think as a woman I should grasp any opportunity to better myself, yet I know I am the only one who should bear responsibility for the path I choose to take," she stated, saying she was inspired by Taiwanese women who refused to bow to gender and societal restraints. "Wherever you come from, with a strong heart and mind, you can create and sustain a loving family in another land," she stressed. The 24-year-old went on to say that she would pursue her dream of studying law, so she could provide legal assistance to Vietnamese people living in Taiwan.


In Vi Thi's "The Seaside," the situation was particularly complicated, with Nga asking her widowed husband to choose between her and his children. She writes, "The waves on the ocean were becoming much bigger. I saw Nga running toward me. 'They always look down on me. What's wrong with being Vietnamese? I don't want to be their stepmother and they don't want me to be either.' I replied to her, saying, 'It's really not reasonable to ask a father to separate from his children.'"


The story ended well enough. The children were sent away to live with their grandmother, which allowed a new family to be born. The husband seemed relieved and happy, as he was able to start a life without any squabbles upsetting the harmony of a new household. The author also seemed glad that the couple had resolved their differences, while also adding a few opinions of her own concerning divisions within a family. As a mother leaving her own relatives behind in Vietnam, Vi Thi probably knows the scenario very well, yet she did not judge Nga in any way.


"Now Nga and her husband seem much happier," she concludes. "I am also happy, and I feel like singing to the sound of the sea. I hope no typhoon comes to disturb this place, so the sea will be peaceful forever."



June Tsai / Taiwan Journal / 2007/12/28
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