Hunter School

by Sakinu Ahronglong, 亞榮隆‧撒可努, Darryl Sterk (Translator)

Hunter School is a timely piece of fiction, drawing on the recollections, folklore, and autobiographical stories of an aboriginal Taiwanese man aiming to reconnect with his lost tribal identity a Paiwan identity lost in the name of development.

It is impossible to be unaware of the effect of development, invariably at the hands of outsiders, upon the lands, inhabitants and very nature of faraway climes. Hunter School shows us first-hand the immediate and long-reaching effects of such changes upon an indigenous people. The fabric of the community is changed, its balance and its self-sufficiency undermined, and confusion reigns. A common theme running throughout this charming but important book is that of a young man learning about himself and his heritage from the past, elders, ancestors, and nature itself.

This award-winning book is a highly readable and touching work, and an insight into a unique and endangered society. It serves also as a clarion call for action and awareness.

Genres: Fiction, Indigenous, Asia, Historical Fiction, Short Stories, Animals

162 pages, Paperback

Published May 1, 2020

About the author

Also see 亞榮隆‧撒可努

a Taiwanese indigenous Paiwan writer and forest hunter. He was trained as a police officer, and found law enforcement work in Taipei. He later became a forest ranger.

He gained recognition from his book The Sage Hunter (山豬．飛鼠．撒可努), winning the 2000 Wu Yung-fu Literature Prize (巫永福文學獎). The book, written in 1998, was adapted into a film and released in 2005. His work has been translated into English and Japanese, and also made into cartoons. In 2005, he founded a hunter school to educate and introduce youngsters to Paiwan culture and traditional Paiwan skills.

Adapted from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahrongl...

Reviews

[Henk · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lost world elegy, with in the end a hopeful message about the potential of a renaissance in indigenous culture in Taiwan
I’m savage, she said, not Han Chinese. I don’t want to be Han Chinese.

Author Sakinu Ahronglong takes us to a world I think not very many of us have heard of, the indigenous people of Taiwan, in particular the Paiwan people (for more background: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paiwa...).

Till very recently millet and hunting served as a basis of society and Hunter School is permeated by nostalgia to a less complicated world. Ancestor worship, magical thinking (including an anthropomorphic Romeo and Juliet like tale involving a hawk and a snake) and a respectful attitude to nature, thanking animals for their flesh are things that come back a lot in the memories of the author. The book consists of short recollections of the youth of the author, his struggles to connect with his heritage and his eventual choice to do a wedding ceremony in the traditional manner of his people, which does lead to an alienation with his father.

Economical hardships, loss of lands, drunkenness and lack of educational opportunities have a prominent role in the book. Still there are also hopeful scenes, full of a sense of purpose and some sense of wonder, like the chapter "My meeting with destiny" which is a bit like Miyazaki’s Spirited Away’s world. Interesting the Japanese occupation of Taiwan comes back a lot, with an arigatou by an elder instead of a Mandarin goodbye.

In general the story gives me a bit of Please Look After Mom vibes in terms of rural life in East Asia description, and veneration for the earlier generations. The story is a bit basic in storytelling and language, and I liked some kind of footnotes to better distinguish between the various tribes inhabiting Taiwan, I was quite bewildered by at least four tribes briefly touched upon in the book:
- Kacalisiyan, Paiwan for people of the slopes
- Amis, other indigenous people
- Paqaluqalu, Paiwan who moved away from heartlands
- Pingpu people who the main character could never marry because they are told to have "teeth down there" and apparently invaded the Paiwan homelands.

But an unknown world was revealed to me as a reader so I still feel this is an important work, and well readable, for anyone who wants to know a bit more about Taiwan.

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a rare Paiwanese work translated into English. Kudos to Honford Star for making this translation available. Personally, I found the writing shallow with stories centered around the killing of animals and reinforced heteronormativity. This may depict one aspect of indigenous Taiwanese culture, but I hope this isn’t the last word.

[Melanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are books that are important to exist in translation way beyond their "surface" literary merit. And Hunter School is such a book. Sakinu Ahronglong is Paiwanese (native people of Taiwan) and he is - like all of his people - a hunter. He works tirelessly to prevent his people's traditions, customs and language to be forgotten and his previous book "The Sage Hunter" was made into a film (which I am trying to track down, so any hints appreciated). The language is simple, plain and unassuming. It's more recollections, the sort of stories that are shared around a campfire with a "Can you remember when...". I find this hugely appealing, but I guess for those readers of translated books that seek the literary, it may be not what they are looking for. I gave this book 4 stars because it taught me something about a world I knew only little of. I knew a bit, after all, I have been obsessed with Taiwan since I was 16, but most books about Taiwan never mention the Paiwanese, which is so often the case when a place has been successfully colonised. History and literature is mostly written by those that conquer, not those that are conquered.

[Emili · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is criminally underrated. A really lovely and thoughtful collection of autobiographical vignettes about Ahronglong’s indigenous Taiwanese (specifically Paiwan) heritage and the preservation of minority cultures. Recommended reading for literally everyone tbh there’s not a bit you won’t enjoy.

(I got this from Honford Star’s website because it’s rare as hens teeth)

[Matthew · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Tom Mooney · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meh.

[Danya · Rating 5 out of 5]

First book I have ever read by an indigenous Taiwanese writer. Vuvu, thank you for sharing your story so we can learn more of beautiful Paiwan. Here's to the lifelong haerenga and more books by our indigenous Taiwanese vuvu.

[Kimberly Ouwerkerk · Rating 3 out of 5]

Author Sakinu Ahronglong is Paiwan, an indigenous tribe of Taiwan. This tribe has been in cultural hibernation for half a century because Paiwan villages were invaded by foreign culture after the rule of Japan and China. His mission is to reconstruct Paiwan culture and help people reconnect with nature, and he founded the Hunter School to do so.

Stories
Deeply ingrained in the stories is the coexistence of man and animal, and man and nature. You feel like you’re attending hunter school yourself, and along the way you learn some humility and respect: be one with nature, don’t place yourself above animals, and try to see it from their point of view. Hunting philosophy class 101: “Relate to each creature in nature like a fellow person.” And as such, it won’t surprise you when the hunter says that you can’t blame the disappearance of flying squirrels on humans alone. The squirrels are to blame, too. If only these squirrels had paid better attention in flying squirrel college they would have been more elusive.

The short stories in part one are lighthearted and resemble anecdotes – not quite fables – that share a rich culture. With each story, you learn new cultural aspects as you follow the studious but reluctant boy, the hunting father, and the wise grandfather. The key lesson here is that you should be grateful for nature and respect your ancestors.

The second part shows the hardships the author faced as a Paiwan in his contact with other cultures, and the third part shows his determination to stand up for what he believes in, including his hopes and dreams for the future. Most of the stories are very interesting and help preserve valuable knowledge.

What I liked less are the many paragraphs telling the reader about the decline of the village and the disappearance of the traditional culture of Paiwan. It becomes repetitive because it is mentioned in most stories. Why doesn’t the author trust readers to read this sentiment between the lines? These paragraphs slow down the stories. The writing style isn’t always that great either; more is told than shown. This allows you to sympathize with the experiences, but if you haven’t experienced it yourself, you can’t empathize with the angst of a child from the mountains visiting Taipei.

Reflection
One of the themes that the Hunter School got me thinking about is change. Is all change progress? Do things have to stay the same? People often long for the outcome of the road not taken, while reminiscing about good things of the past (which may not have been so good). You can revive what was lost, but if the environment has changed, are you creating something real or more of a museum-like experience? Is it even possible to restore what was lost? Suppose I have the opportunity to restore Dutch society exactly as it was in 1930, is that something I should want?

The author values his origins and ancestry, and I like how in one of the later stories he realizes something about the balance between ancestry and identity.

Conclusion
I value the cultural significance of this collection of stories, but I ended up giving it a three-star rating because of the writing style and repetition. I would say that this book is a must-read for anyone visiting Taiwan and I will reread the stories in Hunter School many times in the future because they do appeal to me. Some parts of the stories I would like to rewrite so that they appeal more to the reader, while still conveying the same message.

[Natasha · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book (memoir?) is honestly such a beautiful reminder to view the world and nature more holistically. The book talks openly about paiwanese culture - the native people to Taiwan - and the way they view nature is something I wish our society did more. It also makes me think a lot about how western culture treats native culture and it’s gross!!! The arrogant audacity of it’nn

[julia · Rating 2 out of 5]

this is definitely not a book without merit but there's just so many things that could've been done better. the stories being rearranged so they're in a more "chronological" order just seems to have backfired, because they become too repetitive as you go on and re faced with multiple stories that have the same moral--surely it was better in the original, where i assume the various animal stories were all spread out instead of being so concentrated at the beginning. the narration leaves much to be desired too

[Celine · Rating 3 out of 5]

Het was best wel interessant om te lezen over een Aboriginal van Taiwan.

[Michael Cannings · Rating 4 out of 5]

The plainspeople from China brought the legal notion of land title. Well, my father often jokes, “It used to be that if a Paiwan person had walked through a place leaving footprints with his own two feet enough times, that place belonged to him.”

Precious little literature from Taiwan’s Indigenous peoples has made the transition to English, so it’s always a pleasure to see a new translation. Hunter School, by Sakinu Ahronglong, continues UK-based publisher Honford Star’s excellent run of translated literature from East Asia.

Sakinu Ahronglong is a member of the Paiwan people, from Taitung County in the southeast of Taiwan, and Hunter School is a blend of personal recollection, traditional stories, and tales gathered from the lives of the people around him. How much is fact and how much fiction isn’t clear, and in a way that distinction is beside the point. A sense of loss permeates the book – loss of culture, loss of habitat, loss of language. The writing itself feels like an act of defiance against an encroaching world that has already taken much of what Sakinu considers to be the essential nature of the Paiwan people.

A potent example of this loss is found in alcohol. For Sakinu, the millet wine traditionally made in Lalaoran – his village – is “a driver of indigenous society and a symbol of continuity […] it enhances the sacred character of rituals”. He contrasts this with the “alcohol sold by the public liquor bureau, [which] has numbed the spirits and hobbled the bodies of my people and eroded our traditional culture”. Strong liquor has left a trail of destruction through Indigenous Taiwanese communities:

These pailang [bad people] use booze to get what they want, and we indigenous people lose our culture to them. We can’t beat them at their game because we don’t know the rules. They are familiar with much that we don’t understand. We are the ultimate losers. We don’t have anything left.

The most terrifying episode in the book comes when the teenage Sakinu and his younger brother are summoned to Taipei for the first time by their father, who is working there, to collect money for their school tuition. Lost, bewildered, unable to find their father as night falls, Sakinu convincingly conveys the alien nature of the huge mass of humanity, the traffic, the concrete, the gripping fear of being robbed or abducted. It also brings home the racism faced by Indigenous Taiwanese in their own country.

In later years, I would visit Taipei again and stand in front of the Mitsukoshi Shin Kong Life Tower that now towers over the train station, a landmark in Greater Taipei. I would stand on the overpass in front of the tower and remember what the site had looked like before the tower was built, when I came to Taipei with my brother and got called “chief”, “native”, and “savage”.

The happy times, by contrast, are all associated with home. The freedom of the mountains, of hunting, of times spent chatting with his grandmother or scaring birds away from the millet field. His grandfather says the black birds which come at dusk hold the spirits of their ancestors, and bids Sakinu to let them eat their fill. Village elders use smoke from cooking fires to communicate with the same ancestors, who look with interest at the deeds of their descendants.

Where the text moves into Paiwan mythology is where it grows tender, as in the story of the forbidden lovers Izang and Tsukuba, who end up transmuted into a hawk and a hundred pacer snake. This snake, a totemic animal for the Paiwan, often raises its head, explained as Tsukuba looking to the sky in search of her lost love. These tales reinforce the allegiance of people and place, as Sakinu believes that only when saturated in their traditions and situated in their ancestral lands can the Paiwan really be themselves.

One particularly moving passage comes when the young Sakinu and his cousin accompany Sakinu’s father to an abandoned village deep in the forest, which his father tells them was the home of their ancestors. It has remained undisturbed by archeologists or anthropologists thanks to its remoteness. The village is an impressive settlement, built of heavy slate quarried some distance away, and sited in a good position to defend against raids from enemies. The boys are impressed with the might of their forebears, and see visions of life in the village when it was populated.

Min-ch’üen walked up to me and confided, “The moment you took out your knife, I saw warriors holding spears and arrows standing in front of the platform. I heard them shout in response to your shout, as if they were about to go off to war. And when you put your knife back in the scabbard, right in that instant, they went blurry and disappeared before my very eyes. Maybe in a previous lifetime you were a warrior of this village, a great warrior who survived a hundred battles. Maybe you were their commander.”

After returning home Sakinu dreams of his great-great-grandfather, also called Sakinu, as a young man. Long-haired, tattooed, strong and commanding, he names the younger Sakinu his avatar, and charges him with preserving the Paiwan. It is no stretch to make the link to Sakinu as a grown man, modern-day custodian of Paiwan culture and advocate for his people. Sakinu enumerates the outsider influences on his village: Han Chinese, Japanese, Christian, and other Indigenous peoples, the Puyuma but particularly the Amis, whose rituals and dress his village adopted decades ago. His own father, when told that Sakinu wishes to have a Paiwan-style wedding and not a Christian one, is scornful. But he presses ahead and – forty years since the last Paiwan wedding in Lalaoran – Sakinu’s marriage is, he hopes, the spark that will rekindle the old traditions and help his people remember what it means to be Paiwan.

Hunter School is not only Sakinu’s lament for the damage wrought on his people and their home, but also a manifesto for their resurgence, a plea for the most harmful aspects of outsider society to be kept at bay while traditions can be relearned, language can be passed on, and young people given a reason to stay. A sensitive translation is central to the impact of the book in English, and Darryl Sterk delivers, striking the right balance between a flowing, readable text and giving background for readers unfamiliar with the cultural context. Sakinu’s passion is infectious, his message vital, and together they make Hunter School a compelling collection.

[Sam Bizarrus · Rating 5 out of 5]

In this small, stunning series of reflections, Sakinu Ahronglong meditates on his experience as a hunter in the alpine Taiwanese mountains. Yet, the book is more a comment on what it means to be an ethnic minority -- part of the indigenous Paiwanese community -- in a rapidly urbanizing country. There's an interesting commentary on how the indigenous people are treated in Taiwan. In one passage, Ahronglong thinks about how the anthropologists and social scientists who studied the Paiwanese should have to develop the film and photographs they took and share them with the indigenous communities--a giving back, rather than simply taking. In another incident, he muses on how his education was biased against the traditional wisdom of his father and his ancestors and wonders why children are schooled in roughly similar ways. If anything, this book sheds light on a group of people who are often overlooked, particularly when considering the larger global conflict between Taiwan and mainland China. Certainly, for me, it led to questions about the right to land ownership and colonization, but it's carried by sparkling prose and insight.

[Charlotte · Rating 2 out of 5]

There can be no doubt that this is an important book culturally to have immortalised in print. It's necessary to preserve cultures that otherwise are constantly under threat from the modern world of disappearing forever with no one to remember or continue them. For this reason, I don't want to rate this book too harshly and prevent other people from picking it up.

But, whilst I enjoyed the book initially as the stories were cute and simple, the protagonist became more and more unlikeable. He's preachy: once 'enlightened' and accepting of his paiwanese identity, it's either his way or the highway. For example, he stops the guests from dancing at his wedding unless they danced the paiwan dances. The constant 'I'm right, you're wrong' narrative became tiring & stale after a while.

[Christine · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful and unexpected collection of personal essays about a young Paiwan man who makes saving his culture a life lesson.

We think the most important conversations about Taiwan revolve around the one nation question and whether or Taiwan is part of China. But Taiwan is home to numerous aboriginal groups who were there first. The Paiwanese lived in the hills and hunted for their livelihood and survival. The government moved them away from their ancestral homes (does this sound familiar) and sent the children to schools where they learned Mandarin Chinese instead of their own language (ring a bell?).

What makes these stories interesting is the author's transformation from a boy who dreads following his father into the woods for another long day of traditional hunting and walking to a young man who fights his father for a traditional marriage instead of a Christian one. Activists are not born, they are made. Their feelings about the place and traditions they come from change.

By the time Sakinu decides he wants a traditional wedding, there are few elders living in the village who have any recollection of what traditional weddings were like. That's how close his culture is to dying out when he steps in.

This collection is a lovely set of stories about a place few people think about it from a perspective that rarely gets a voice. It's also the story of the making of an activist. It's a reminder that the stories we tell matter and that even if our children or our audiences don't seem to listen or appreciate, we have to keep telling the stories. Their impact often comes later.

[Jacopo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Serie di storie collegate dal ricordo e racconto dell'infanzia e la cultura di un indigeno Paiwan. Interessante come mentre il protagonista (e autore) impara e si riconnette con la sua cultura attraverso insegnamenti degli anziani, della tribù e della natura, il lettore impara con lui e capisce le problematiche legate alla popolazione indigena del Taiwan. Presenti anche tematiche di protezione ambientale (環保) grazie alla stretta vicinanza della cultura indigena con la natura, considerata una generosa alleata ma al tempo stesso una nemica in base a come la si tratta e come ci si rapporta ad essa. Molto interessante anche la riflessione sull'alcol che è da sempre una tradizione normata e normalizzata all'interno della wine culture della tribù, ma che, d'altra parte, può essere la causa di dipendenza e negatività quando si perde il contatto con la cultura tradizionale e l'aspetto sociale del produrre e consumare il millet wine.

*tradotto da Darryl Sterk
*l'autore, come molti scrittori indigeni taiwanesi, è allo stesso tempo un ranger della foresta ed è impegnato nella salvaguardia della cultura indigena attraverso un programma di istruzione

[Ocean G · Rating 4 out of 5]

The risk with these types of memoirs/personal histories is that they generally have a theme, or message (get back to nature, progress is bad, etc.), and often the message takes precedence rather than the history, where the end result is a preachy book where you have to dig to find glimpses into the real history.

I almost didn't get past the first few pages of this book, because it seemed like it was going to have exactly that type of issue. Luckily, however, it seemed to be more a recollection of memories and Paiwan traditions than anything too preachy or righteous.

I do wish we could get something like this from every indigenous group in Taiwan, and not just Paiwan.

Very interesting to learn about the animosity between Paiwan and Amis as well.


https://4201mass.blogspot.com/

[Milo Le · Rating 2 out of 5]

Hunter School is written by aboriginal Taiwanese author called Sakinu Ahronglong. This book is filled with short autobiographical stories of his life growing up as a native in an increasingly modernised Taiwan.

Plot 📖: the plots revolves a lot about the beautiful natural landscape and wildlife of Taiwan, the author’s tribal identity and how aboriginal Taiwanese are adapting to modern life. It’s interesting, informational and creates a sense of calm by connecting you to the lenses of an aboriginal child.

Prose 🖊: While I enjoyed the plot, the prose is a bit shallow and repetitive. I really don’t want to be mean here, but the writing is comparable to a middle school kid’s.

At first I thought the writing was to accommodate the childlike perspective, but as the novel progresses, the adult’s narration stays the same. If it wasn’t for the stories, I would have given up on this book. Honestly, get a ghost writer man.

A sad 2 stars ⭐️⭐️

[Pin-Tsun · Rating 5 out of 5]

A lovely, breathtaking, and moving recollection of experiences growing up as a young Paiwan trying to reconnect with his culture, nature, and ancestors. In most books, when you find talking rocks or colourful winds, it would be classified as magical realism. But to Sakinu and his tribespeople, it is how they see and interact with the natural world around them.

I would wholeheartedly recommend this to anyone interested in learning about the Indigenous peoples of Taiwan, environmental justice, land-based pedagogy, and Indigenous Knowledge.

I also want to acknowledge and commend the translator, Darryl Sterk, who goes above and beyond to connect with the subject which he translates, always with a lot of heart

[Leiki Fae · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful collection of essays and mediations on the experiencing of being Paiwan and reclaiming a Paiwan identity clouded by the complicated history of Taiwan. Some essays are so sad--seems like colonial powers follow a script where Indigenous peoples are chased away from the places they've lived for so long, then as time goes by, more and more laws and regulations make it impossible for them to rediscover and recreate their traditional lifestyles. However, this is ultimately an optimistic account and Sakinu Ahronglong is dedicated to figuring out what it means to be a Paiwan man now with deep connections to the past and his community and their land in Taiwan.

[Graeme Anning · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a great insight into the life of modern Paiwan culture. Seemingly completely autobiographical, the true to life, pragmatic stories contained in this novella provide succinct details in a voice that is authentic and truthful. Each chapter is an excursion into the experience of Paiwan mountain culture. We gain insight about the sacred relationship between man and animals, land, family and clan. A quick read, and a key into deepening an interest in Taiwanese aboriginal cultures.

[Jay · Rating 5 out of 5]

An important collection of narrative reflections translated from Paiwanese into English. This book is often categorised as fiction, but it is memory keeping mixed with passed on folklore. At times it felt a little tricky to be submersed within the story telling and I wonder how much of this is due to the translation itself. Paiwan language is a listed vulnerable language which is endangered, and their history of oppression under various colonisers is an important one to know.

Many Paiwan people have lost their traditional lands, their language, their ceremonies, spiritual and cultural practices. Sakinu Ahronglong (author) is on a mission to bring back the culture, language and practices. His story is an interesting one to follow and learn about.

[Jacob · Rating 3 out of 5]

Essays in a sort of memoir-fashioned collection about his life as a Paiwan person from Taidong.
The stories aren't all that threaded together into a larger narrative, but it was cool to hear about some of the specifics of life as a Paiwan, both the cultural practices and also ways that Ahronglong Sakinu has tried to preserve it. His relationships with nature and his dedication to Paiwan tradition were compelling parts of the book.

[Kaytalist · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love how this book introduce me to Paiwan tribe and their culture, even their folklore. This book bring the awareness issue that even as an indigenous people, as the minorities, they have difficulty to acces education, health facility and wealth spread. This novel also talk briefly like athayal and pingpu

[Marcie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was unfamiliar with the indigenous Paiwan people, and I am grateful to learn about their culture and traditions through Sakinu Ahronglong's Hunter School. Hunter School is a captivating collection of tales based on the author's life experiences. It's an emotive, instructive, and celebratory read that advocates for the embracing of and return to one's traditional culture.

[Stacey · Rating 3 out of 5]

“The village is in decline – our traditional culture is disappearing. People don’t identify with traditional culture anymore, and they’re moving away, like Izang in the ancient legend when he had lost any reason to continue being human.”

[Carrie Blythe · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.50 stars

[Shane McClendon · Rating 3 out of 5]

While Hunter School is not a book that will change your life, it is an important book. The “return to our roots” message of the book is shallow and cliche, and many of the vignettes will have you rolling your eyes. That being said, this is the only English language novel I have seen that has a Paiwanese perspective, and that along makes it worth reading.

[Maximillian · Rating 2 out of 5]

A bit of a rough translation

[Abhilash · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars