Legend has it that the Paiwan tribe originated in the mountain areas of Tawushan, or Paumaumaq as the aborigines call it. Census records from the middle of the 17th Century indicate that the Paiwan either crossed over the Central Mountain Range to reach the eastern coast, or trekked south, around its southern tip. And though the Paiwan have gone through several migrations, most tribesmen can still trace their Taiwan-area origins. A most colorful and vivid demonstration is available in the so- called "Paiwan five-year sacrificial rite," or Mateveq.
In addition to some strictly tribal deities, the Paiwan worship such general and almighty deities as the Heaven God, the Sun God, the Chestnut God, and the Creation God, all of them inhabiting the heights around Tawushan. The Paiwan believe that their own spirits will return to this mountain after their deaths.
Every five years the ts'mas (gods) and markavuvu (spirits) come down from Tawushan to inspect the Paiwan people, who respond with a grand sacrificial ceremony along the route the dieties travel. The Paiwan sub-tribes take turns offering sacrifices in a geographical order running from north to south. The sacrificial rites staged to honor the arrivals of the immortals is termed "pre-worshipping;" the route taken by the deities is coincident with the ancient track of Paiwan migration.
The immortals, after reaching the end of their route, turn back and head for their mountain. And the sub-tribes take reverse turns hosting the ritual to send them on their way. It may take the ushering Paiwan group a year to see the immortals off, and only after the spirits are definitely away is the grand five-year sacrificial rite terminated.
In addition to triggering a consensus resulting in strong ties among scattered Paiwan, the Mateveq, a ceremony unmatched by other tribes on the island in scope and prevailing area, still features a rite deeply connected to their abandoned custom of head-hunting. The rite in question was banned during the Japanese occupation of the island and, as a result, most of the Paiwan sub-tribes abandoned it. The tribal sorcerers and priests, who play the most vital roles in the ceremony, and the regulations and procedures for the rite, have practically disappeared.
Since the island's quick modernization over recent decades has resulted in fundamental changes in economic, political, and religious activities in all its traditional sub-societies it is almost a mirarl that Coavar, a rural Paiwan village of faren Township, Taitung County, has kept its sacrificial rites nearly intact. Though the time span is shortened, the proceedings of the ceremony, the organization of sorcerers and priests, and the functionings of chieftains and nobles have survived Japanese occupation and Sino-Japanese war, as well as the advent of modern technology.
With Coavar's example in mind, at least three more Paiwan sub-tribes now have dedicated themselves to reviving their traditions and celebrating the full sacrificial rites, adding new vitality to the ceremony, and within Paiwan tribal life, reinforcing cultural confidence and the consensus ties among the tribesmen.
The 1,200 population of Coavar includes members of three Paiwan subtribes-the Calilik, Balivuyal, and Coavar, and the former inhabitants of Kulalao. In ancient times, every sub-tribe recognized a founding noble lineage, the so-called mamatsyilan (chieftains), so the founding history and ancestral origins of the sub-tribes help decide leadership. In the basin of the River Tachukao, the up stream Calilik and Balivuyai sub-tribes were among the earliest to be founded. The present chieftains of the two groups—Pacalinuk and Saliyusan —now have dominant power over the sub-tribes downstream. The head of the Pacalinuk clan once returned to the west of Tawushan to support the designation of the leader of the Radan clan as proxy chieftain of the Kulalao group. In 1936, the upper area sub-tribes moved to settle the area that is now Coavar village.
Traditionally, the noble chieftains of the Paiwan have enjoyed special privileges, among them, tax collection, wearing cap insignia, and controlling worshipping affairs. Under each chieftain, a sorceress, a sorcerer, and priests execute tribal rites. For the five-year sacrificial rite, all of the wizards and sorcerers under the control of the three sub-tribe chieftains form a team to act for the entire tribe's welfare.
In September last year, preparation work for the five-year grand rite was launched with a chorus of echoing piyako songs. The piyako is a unique lyric form employed for the ceremony, and familiar to almost every tribesman. To the accompaniment of a rather monotonous melody, the more imaginative singers create their own lines expressing recollections of tribal ancestors and of the immortals, as well as recounting their prudent purposes in conducting the ceremony.
The ceremony proceeds in keeping with ancient custom as dictated by the chieftains, sorcerers, and priests. It is interesting to note that the modern village administrative offices and people's representatives take charge of administering funds, as well as publicity, and of other organizing affairs.
At 5:30 a.m. last October 18, when the Coavar village administrator urged all residents to clean up their yards and all nearby ditches and streets, it was the curtain-raiser for a week-long Mateveq. The ceremony would involve everyone in the mystic work of ushering away the immortals and praying for their favor. Preparation was essential.
The Paiwan call one special phase of the preparations pastam, meaning "covering up." During the ceremonies, all of the deities and ancestral spirits will return to the village. Though there are good spirits to protect the people, there are also the evil spirits, qaqetitan, that can bring calamity to the tribe, to tilling land, to hog pens, and to rivers. Therefore, before the commencement of the main ceremonies, supernatural power must be evoked to "cover" the place up, protecting it from evil. Sorceresses are responsible for tilling land and rivers, sorcerers in charge of the hog pens. The two sexes co-chair the grand ceremony.
Like most Paiwan villages, Coavar sits in a river valley, in this case, with terrain sloping gently from north to south. In the minds of the residents, there is a site called the gazai on the north border; a huge yaupon tree here serves as its landmark. In Paiwanese, gazai actually means rope—a mystic rope that fastens the whole village to the apex of the slope. In opposition to the gazai is the t'sayel, along the south borderline. T'sayel means mat-the basic foundation for the village. With the fastening at the gazai above, and the support at the t'sayel from down under, the whole village is fixed. It will neither capsize nor slide into the river bed.
Stone altars were set up at these two sites for the use of sorcerers and sorceresses, who offered up oblations amid sweet and fluent prayers. The offerings included millet wine, crawling vine or viaq and mulberries, hog bones—a symbol of strength, and iron scrap—a symbol of eternity.
Extra "covering-up" ceremonies were also staged at the residences of the chieftains.
The ancestral shrine of the Saliyusan clan is a stone altar patterned after a model of the village and erected in the chiefs front garden. The oblations at this altar are dedicated to bringing peace and blissfulness to the tribesmen.
The ancestral shrine of the Pacalinuk clan is a tiny house to the rear of the residence complex. It features a central wood pillar carved round with a huge, yellow-stained 100-pacer snake and portrait-reliefs of ancestors. Various kinds of time-worn sacrificial vessels hang from the top of this post. To the left, wood-carved eaves recount the positions and fortunes of various chieftains. The ceremony here was held in front of the pillar.
A sorceress, first offering oblations to tribal ancestors and announcing the opening of the ceremony, then prayed to the gods to shower supernatural strength on the village. Then veteran sorceresses transferred supernatural powers to the sorcerers. The latter carried oblations to four sentinel posts along the village borders, which double as places where hunters can foretell good or evil omens from bird chirpings before a hunting trip.
After the opening formalities, the three major roads leading to the outside world were blockaded with thorny vine screens, under the direction of the sorceressess, thus warding off the encroachments of evil spirits. To help repel the evil spirits, every household had also to hang bamboo leaves on the doorframes. When this was done, all supernatural pollution was effectively purged, and the tribesmen, brimming with excitement, prepared to usher in the immortals. Warriors adorned themselves with necessary armaments, preparing for the highlight of the ceremony.
Strollers around Coavar now spotted villagers everywhere busy with rattan balls and long bamboo sticks for a game of "piercing the ball" or djumutat, the most distinguishing feature of the Paiwan religious festival. As early as the reign of Emperor Chienlung of the Ching Dynasty, a governmental report roughly described how Paiwan game officials, chieftains, and men from the different tribes on opposite sides of the mountain all gathered in a circle, long bamboo poles at the ready to pierce rattan balls flung skyward by a pitcher. Those who impaled a ball were winners. The rest offered toasts to help them celebrate.
The tree-like bamboo sticks are called djutat and measure 40 feet. Differently shaped metal tips and patterns or decor on the bamboo classify a djutat among nine categories. A bamboo stick decorated with the patterns of 100-pacer snakes (a snake whose poison is so potent, the victim dies after 100 steps) is called a vintsikan, and one tipped with four to six iron barbs is a sinarupuan. A crooked tip design marks a pukanen, the evil one's personal djutat. The Pacalinuk clan's unique bamboo pole, three feet longer than the regular djutat, is one of the great chieftain's special perquisites.
The different categories of djutat are designated for different classes of people. For instance, only chieftains are allowed to own a sinarupuan; and only second ranked nobles or veteran priests can have a stick tipped with two spikes and painted with 100 pacers. A head-hunting hero was distinguished by a djutar with one tip spike plus 100 pacers. A renowned boar hunter does without the 100 pacers. Some of the djutar are homemade; others are the work of dexterous craftsmen. Each household plants their own djutat firmly in the courtyard, with the point soaring toward the sky.
Three days after the initial village cleanup took place, while the priests were chanting prayers in torrents and singing exciting piyako in the chieftain's shrine to ring the worship ceremony to its climax, the villagers were busy constructing an open stadium on a school playground. The wooden stadium was of circular form, designed to serve both an audience and the bearers of the djutar. The open center area of the stadium is called a tsakar, and here the sorceresses prayed and priests flung up the rattan balls. The contestants carried their djutar to 26 specially made platforms, and after each bamboo stick was cut to standard length, the contestants propped them in the platform, each testing his own on the spot for shortcomings. Before returning home to prepare for the spirit-ushering rite the following day, each contestant sought out the best posting position he could get.
The following day was the day to usher in young spirits, or mivog. At daybreak, the priests and sorceresses arrived at the open stadium to exorcise wayward evil from the bamboo poles and to shower them with supernatural power. They then moved to the shrine of the chieftain of the Pacalinuk clan to usher in the immortals. After all oblations were prepared, the sorceresses began offering various libations and mulberry leaves towards the different directions of the altar and the central pillar. Then, as the sorceresses began to fluently recite a rapid string of prayers, they sprinkled the leaves around and dipped their hands in wine. Their audience could discern in their chants, only the repetitions of the names of such ancient deities as Sa Remet, Nagmati, Qadau, and Vneqats.
As their resonant prayers echoed in the valley, an onlooker could imagine the immortals, riding cloudy chariots, now approaching, and the spirits of escorting tribal ancestors bestowing blessings. All of the actual participants were now visibly immersed in an exciting and wondrous alternate reality, wherein great nature and humankind had coalesced into a oneness. A repetition of their prayers pounded back from the surrounding wilderness-the sound of a torrential downpour. A sudden, breathless, and somehow pathetically shrill cry transported the ceremony to climax. It was the unanimous summons of the priests to the ancestral spirits.
At that point, all had to leave the shrine and go to the open courtyard. Facing Tawushan, a priest, escorted by veteran sorceresses on both sides, led the entire troupe in chants of rather melancholy choruses-not as amiable and peaceful sounding as the piyako. Sometimes their songs recounted the descendants' admiration and nostalgic memories of their ancestral deities, and sometimes they represented a kind of rondo among the supernatural beings. Finally, the deities were once again in the world, joined by the escorting ancestral spirits.
While all this was taking place, the sorcerers were leading the ball-piercing contestants in rites at an interim altar set up to separately greet young spirits. The Paiwan believe that those who die young remain forever young spirits, and that they prefer that young adults greet them during the arrival ceremony.
The young spirits were first ushered to resting places on the altar. Their welcomers then gathered before the shrine to receive blessings and super-natural powers. After being thus spiritually armed, the young adults joined in a masculine roar which reverberated across the valley ... and then, amid clarion piyako songs, followed the priests to the open stadium.
The day's ball-piercing contest was controlled by sorceresses; the rattan balls were tossed by priests. Five of the balls were endowed by the sorceresses with supernatural powers as offerings to the young spirits. After the five were tossed, young adults were free to enter the tsakar to throw or pierce rattan balls at random. By this time, the sorceresses had accomplished their central mission. They now went over to the seats, and each stealthily bestowed supernatural power on the djutat of a pre-selected personal representative. It is believed that whoever pierces a ball during this event will bring happiness to his family. But this day's games were but an overture; more serious play was to be staged two days later.
During the intervening two days, men would go out to hunt wild boars to serve as sacrifices for the gods. In the olden days, this was the nightmarish head-hunting period. During this time, a thatched kiosk was erected on a mountain top overlooking the tsakar-a rest area for evil qaqetitan spirits. In the Paiwans' wishful thinking, the evil spirits will now stop at this point rather than encroach on the village.
When the day dubbed Tsemvuf finally came, maize stalks were burned to summon the spirits to gather, and every household held family rites in front of its ancestral shrine.
After exorcising spirits from the bamboo poles again, the sorcerers and priests went out to the suburbs of the village. The priests, bearing kettles containing burning coals, danced facing Tawushan—an invitation to the deities and ancestral spirits to visit the main shrine.
Today, ten supernaturally anointed balls were to be pierced, determining the fortunes of each family over the coming five years. At the main shrine, gongs and drums were beating wildly, an augmentation of the final stages of prayer. The ten supernatural balls were then placed in front of the shrine's central pillar. Twined each to a rattan stick, these special balls carried their own tails. The motions for flinging these balls were reminiscent or the Olympic hammer throw. The balls themselves resembled heads with pigtails. The Paiwan do not attempt to conceal the fact that their special rattan balls are latter-day substitutes for the heads of enemies.
A new chorus of piyako resounded again in the valley. Amid its echoes, the priests and sorcerers led all the contestants to the tsakar. After a short prayer, the young adults stood on their platrorms, holding both their bamboo playing sticks and their breaths as they waited for a priest to toss a first ball carrying the name or the grand ancestor of the Paiwan, Sa Remet.
Propelled by a powerrul arm, the ball new skyward. The tips of 26 bamboo poles gave out crisp metallic sounds as they collided in the sky. When Kinitsiyan, the pole of chieftain Saliyusan, pierced the first ball, the sorceresses extended their congratulations to its manipulator, now overwhelmed with excitement. Then a second ball was flung skyward.
Thus it went for the rest of the balls—each one named for a local god, the Heaven God, priests and sorceresses of the heavenly world, or even a prayer, for bounteous harvests of grain and game. There was one special case—a ball named after Simadrugan, the evil spirit. He who pierced this ball would be doomed. However, only the sorceresses knew the secret of its identity. The contestants had no idea which was the ball that would bring them a special calamity or the grimmest fate. It is imaginable that the athletes would long wonder.
The game lasted until 3 p.m., when a djutat belonging to the devil Pukanen pierced a rattan ball. Another intense moment had arrived. All the djutat must now be knocked down and cut to pieces, all at once, with axes or knives previously concealed. The soaring tuft of erect bamboo sticks bloomed like a huge flower. The audience now dodged the frenetic activity with shrill cries and whistles. Only the priests' pole was left standing, because if all the djutat fell, the evil spirits watching from the mountain tops would swarm into the village. In such critical circumstances, the priests' djutat must be the last to fall; in so doing, it would ward off the evil spirits. Once the priests' pole was chopped down, the stadium was also demolished, all at once. The once bustling tsakar area was now empty and deserted.
The ending was now near. All of the spirits would soon be on their ways back to Tawushan. The contestants in the ball-piercing games gathered now again, this time with shortened, 10-foot djutat, and paraded through the village. A mini-scale ball piercing contest was now staged in the courtyard of each residence, each host donating such gifts as maize year cake, pork, wine, tobacco, soft drinks —or even cash—to the players. Someone in each troupe gathered the donations, the objective of this exercise. The so-called kiqavai games were played to collect offerings and preserved foods for the long return journey of the ancestral spirits.
A send-off party proceeded now on the west side of the village, toward Tawushan. The songs of the sorcerers no longer rang so loud and clear over the valley. Now only old men, who could not bear the parting, sang—mumbling, bleak songs, the quavering voices seemingly smothered by the boundless land and the deepening shades of dusk. A priest placed oblations along the road. A veteran sorcerer held a jar of maize wine in one hand and sprinkled wine drops to the west with a finely figured knife.
The River Tachukao keeps running, running on toward the home of the gods. In the village, the Paiwan now danced, sang, and ate to their hearts' content all night long.