In what has come to be known as the Wushe Uprising of 1930, a group of Seediq aborigines from central Taiwan rebelled against Japanese imperial control. It was the last major indigenous insurrection in the colony, and ended in failure.
The 298 survivors of the uprising, mostly women and children, were relocated by the Japanese to a flatland area some 50 kilometers away. The survivors called their new home Alang Gluban—Seediq for “the encircled ones”—because it was surrounded by streams and mountains.
Left alone by the outside world to run its own course, since then Alang Gluban has evolved into a peaceful, almost idyllic village, where scenes of green rice seedlings basking under the sun betray no hint of the former bloodshed and sorrow.
For the most part, villagers are reluctant to revisit the past, according to Tado Nawi, a schoolteacher and descendant of one of the survivors.
“Many survivors of the Wushe Uprising committed suicide, unable to endure living without their deceased loved ones, while others died from malaria, their bodies unused to the new environment,” Tado Nawi said. “People have wanted to forget the painful past.”
A film due out in September, however, is likely to reawaken old ghosts. “Seediq Bale,” meaning “a real man,” depicts the rebellion in the most heroic of terms. Indeed, it is a panegyric to the Wushe Uprising.
But some Seediq have mixed feelings about the film. They are glad that it pays tribute to their history, and that the film’s director—Wei Te-sheng, best known for his recent hit “Cape No. 7”—has taken pains to ensure that the costumes and setting are authentic. They are also pleased the film will bring attention to their history and help attract tourists.
What they are worried about is that the film might leave the public with a simplified version of events.
Movie-themed tours to the villages are all well and good, according to Paul Lien, a local historian and tour guide. “But visitors will feel their trip even more worthwhile, if they make an effort to understand the history of the place and its complexities, before they come here to sample the aboriginal culture, foods, artifacts and so on,” he said.
To begin with, he explained, the Seediq were never a monolithic group that responded to Japanese colonial rule in Taiwan (1895-1945) in exactly the same way.
The Seediq are divided into three distinctive tribes—the Tkdaya, Toda and Truku. And only members of the Tkdaya tribe participated directly in the Wushe Uprising, according to accounts found in the Survivors’ Memorial Museum in Alang Gluban.
Several decades of Japanese rule combining cruelty and patronage served to divide the Seediq into pro- and anti-Japanese groups. The division and different experiences over the years have prevented the Seediq from confronting the past, according to Tado Nawi.
The Japanese left Taiwan in 1945, but the Kuomintang that replaced them treated the indigenous population just as poorly. This discrimination against the aborigines was another reason they have remained mute on their own identity and history. Thus the Seediq was officially recognized as one of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples only in 2008.
Tado Nawi said that for over half century his own grandmother, Opin Dado, one of the survivors, never talked about the past. Her husband, Dakis Nawi, participated in the uprising, and killed himself after its failure. Opin Dado would have committed suicide as well—except she was already pregnant at the time.
“My grandmother remained silent on the matter until 1995, when, shortly before her death, she allowed my father to take down her memoir in Japanese,” Tado Nawi said.
One point of contention involves how to evaluate Mona Rudao, the leader of the rebellion. The KMT, which had fought a lengthy war against Japan, had depicted Rudao as a symbol of a brave fight on behalf of all Chinese and Taiwanese against Japanese aggression.
But some Seediq, especially the Toda, do not regard Mona Rudao as their hero. “They probably feel that without him none of the subsequent sorrow and bloodshed would have occurred,” Lien said.
In the late 1920s, Wushe, located in today’s Nantou County, was strategically important for the Japanese, who used it as an outpost for implementing their aboriginal policies.
Colonial officials set up a model public school for aboriginal students there in an attempt to assimilate the tribe; and Seediq customs, such as tattooing of faces—a symbol of connection with ancestors—and head hunting as a means to settle disputes between tribes were banned outright by the Japanese. Worst of all, forced labor deprived the tribe of time to work in the fields and to engage in traditional ceremonies.
The cultural intervention planted seeds of discontent and rebellion, especially among the young.
Thus on Oct. 27, 1930, 1,236 members from six of the Tkdaya’s total 11 villages took the chance of an annual sporting event, held in the public school and attended by Japanese officials and indigenous residents, to start their uprising.
Under the leadership of Mona Rudao, then 48, 134 Japanese were killed and 26 were injured in a single day. The response was swift and severe. With modern weaponry, poison gas and the mobilization of pro-Japan Seediq members, the Japanese started a killing spree.
Unable to withstand the onslaught, most of the insurgents fled to the nearby woods, where they hanged themselves rather than lose their honor. Forty days later the uprising was finally put down. The Tkdaya had been decimated.
The story does not end there. A so-called second Wushe Incident occurred on April 25, 1931, during which Toda members were tacitly allowed to attack survivors in shelters and hunt heads to settle old scores as well as avenge their mistakenly killed chief. The attack claimed 216 more lives, according to the museum.
Then, the Japanese authorities decided to resettle the last survivors to today’s Alang Gluban to prevent more clashes and for the convenience of management. The Toda and Truku were given land that formerly belonged to the Tkdaya as reward for their help in quelling the disturbances.
Tensions between the three groups have lingered through the decades. Even last year, according to Tado Nawi, during a ceremony commemorating the 80th anniversary of the incident, leaders called for love, tolerance and harmony among groups—an indication that these qualities are not always present.
As to the now legendary Mona Rudao, his bones were discovered in the woods four years after the incident, and were sent by the Japanese to Taiwan Imperial University (today’s National Taiwan University) for research. It was not until in 1974, after strong demands from tribal people, that his bones were sent back to Wushe and buried there.
Now with the coming of the much-anticipated historical movie, local residents and government alike are ready to offer historically significant destinations as tourist draws.
The Nantou government has devised a route allowing visitors to see the Alang Gluban museum, the Mona Rudao Memorial and Cemetery, and the historic battlefields. Studios of artisans who provided costumes and accessories for the movie should also be a part of anyone’s must-see list.
According to Aping Madivaiian, director-general of Nantou’s Indigenous People’s Bureau, the Nantou government is working on having the Wushe old street created for filmmaking in New Taipei City moved to the place of its happening, to help boost local tourism.
“It would be as significant as the return of the bones of Mona Rudao to his home,” she said. (HZW)
Write to June Tsai at june@mail.gio.gov.tw