A Lack of Caring at the Highest Levels

A disturbing article that went little-remarked upon in the Taipei Times yesterday outlined the outsized caseloads, understaffing problems and lack of benefits for social workers in Taiwan.

From the article:

Following the death of a social worker in Taitung County last month, allegedly from overwork, dozens of her colleagues yesterday staged a demonstration outside the Control Yuan over what they called the government’s refusal to provide better benefits to workers and lack of manpower.

This is a topic close to my heart, as I used to work with the same kids who saw social workers in Washington, DC (I was a literacy tutor, not a social worker by any stretch, but had to go through some training in how to handle kids from underprivileged backgrounds), and because social work inordinately affects women - and my impression is that it's also mostly a job held by women (I'll try to confirm that with stats later).

As someone who is also deeply interested in women's issues, women's rights and feminism in general, I was immediately piqued by this article detailing their plight.

Generally, around the world, it's clear that professional careers mostly held by women tend to be less respected, less well-paid and more overworked than those mostly held by men. Nurses are professionals but hold less esteem than doctors (granted, doctors have to go through far more rigorous training) - most nurses are female. Teachers are professionals just as much as lawyers are, and yet lawyers bring home many times the pay that teachers do. Social work is a profession - more so than almost anyone in business and certainly up there on the level of nurses and teachers - and yet most are government-funded and most are women. I can't help but notice that they too get the short end of the stick when it comes to pay, benefits and working conditions (in America as much as Taiwan). Or as the article notes:

“Are we not professional enough? Do we not have professional knowledge and skills?” Modern Women’s Foundation executive director Yao Shu-wen (姚淑文), a veteran social worker, called out through a loudspeaker.

“No!” the protesters shouted back.

“Then why does the government refuse to give us professional pensions?” Yao asked.

She's right - there is no reason on earth why social workers shouldn't be eligible for professional benefts just as other civil servants with professional training are. I can't help but smell a bit of sexism in the outsourcing, underfunding and overwork of people in this very challenging field.

And no hazard pay? Apparently,

The Executive Yuan’s Central Personnel Administration (CPA) has rejected requests for professional pensions and hazard pay, based on the argument that professional pensions do not apply to people without the status of government employees even if they work for the government. It also maintains that social workers’ jobs are not as “hazardous” as that of police officers and firefighters.

This has a slight ring of sexism to it, as well - "those big tough men with guns or who fight fires have hazardous jobs, yours is not that threatening. Quit complaining."

Um, as someone who is not a social worker but has worked with children in difficult situations, I can say that this is complete and utter bullshit (sorry moms, but sometimes you just gotta say it like it is). While I was teaching a 12-year-old how to read, the student grabbed a pair of scissors - real ones, not craft scissors - and threatened me with them, saying he'd "stab me in the leg" if I made him read, and if I kept pushing him, he'd "stab me worse".

I, of course, called the pros in immediately and the kid was no longer in the program (which is kind of tragic, but then he needed more help than I could give him). When I related this tale to a true American social worker I met while traveling in Panama, her reply was: "honestly, he probably will end up behind bars for stabbing someone, because the system doesn't work well enough to really help him in any meaningful way", and she related times that she's dodged chairs, scissors, bags and other items thrown at her head while in a session. "That one guy broke your hand by throwing a table on it!" her companion said. "Well...yes, but it was a minor fracture and it was a chair, not a table."

Let's not even get into the stress of being overworked and on 24-hour call as a social worker (their work hours are noted below) - I have it on good (but very un-publishable) authority that people who work in the Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Prevention Committee get a lot of threatening phone calls, and other less threatening but equally stressful calls along the lines of "why do I have to attend parenting classes? Huh? HUH? You're all crazy!"

Imagine dealing with that round-the-clock. You'd almost need your own therapist unless you were extremely thick-skinned. That alone deserves a bit of hazard pay.

As for Taiwanese social workers and their hazards:

“There was even one instance when, as a social worker was accompanying a victim of [domestic] abuse to court, gang members affiliated with the victim’s husband blocked every doorway at the courthouse while attacking the spouse and the social worker,” Yao said.

And you, Executive Yuan, want to say that this is not a hazardous job? [Redacted] you. This isn't even a KMT/DPP problem - this is a "we don't care" problem. A "we're blind, LA LA LA" problem. A women's rights problem - and a government who doesn't take them seriously despite living in a culture that, at least for Asia, is generally respectful of women.

Let's also address the fact that social work mostly benefits women - single mothers, abused wives, women in dysfunctional family situations, and in Asia, daughters treated badly simply for being daughters (though this isn't as much of an issue in Taiwan as in, say, China). It seems to me that by having just 660 workers to handle cases nationwide:

Taipei Women’s Rescue Foundation executive director Kang Shu-hua (康淑華) said that while more than 120,000 cases of domestic abuse and sexual assault requiring the intervention of social workers were reported annually, the nation has only about 660 social workers.

and:

However, Yao said that as a result of manpower shortages, social workers often have to work overtime and are on call 24 hours a day without additional pay.

...that the government is sending a message it really ought not to be sending, or even contemplating: we don't care about Taiwanese girls and women. We don't care about daughters and wives. We don't care about domestic abuse or sexual assault. We don't care about people who want to help those people - let 'em work 'till they die. We don't need to provide adequate help or support. That may not be true (certainly no government official would ever admit to it), but it is the message they are sending. Or, in summary:

“This shows the government doesn’t really care about social workers or the people they help,” Kang said. “Their mentality is that it’s good enough as long as nothing [bad] happens.”

Updated Post - Indian Food in Taipei

I've gone ahead and updated - with links! - my long-ago post on where to find good Indian food in Taipei, with short personal reviews and links to other reviews.

The general trends?

1.) I seem to be pickier than most, perhaps because I have lived in India. Taipei Times and Hungry Girl give good reviews to places I won't look at twice.

2.) If you want truly Indian levels of spice, you need to specifically request it at most restaurants. Otherwise your food will be toned down to Taiwanese tastes and that is a damn shame.

3.) Avoid all Indian restaurants in food courts.

Dance

Bunun (I think...please correct me if I'm wrong) dance in Kaohsiung's Central Park MRT Station

While we were in Kaohsiung a few weeks ago, we happened upon this aboriginal dance show taking place in the Central Park MRT Station. We'd stopped in the aboriginal goods stores opened - so we were told - partially thanks to the efforts of Chen Chu - to buy Taiwanese coffee and other small items as the show was about to start. This was not the first time we've seen aboriginal dancing - sometimes in the context of actual festivals where the dancing has some sort of cultural meaning, and sometimes...not.

If you've spent any amount of time in Taiwan at all, you've surely encountered these dance shows - you can see them every weekend evening at the Naruwan Indigenous People's Market at the intersection of Huanhe and Guangzhou Roads not far from Longshan Temple (and practically across the street from the historic Xuehai Academy, the first "university" in Taiwan - now a family shrine - also mentioned in the post linked to above). On certain days they're held in Kaohsiung's Central Park station, and there are other venues in which to see them, as well. Both Taipei City Hall and Kaohsiung Central Park MRT Stations have aboriginal stores, but only Kaohsiung's also has dances.

It's rare to have the knowledge and chance to attend many of the more authentic festivals (Pasta'ai is the easiest to get to, and even that takes some work if you want to go to Wufeng, not Nanzhuang), and you're about as likely to encounter the everyday use of traditional dress as you are to come across a Taiwanese woman walking down the street in a full qipao ("qipao-inspired" doesn't count, nor does a tiny dog in a qipao costume - a labrador in a qipao might count)...but seeing these dance shows is dead easy if you are so inclined.

Amis Tribe dance in Taipei's Naruwan Market

I'm not sure what to make of them, honestly. It is absolutely true that many (most? all?) of the aboriginal tribes of Taiwan incorporate dancing into festivals and rituals, to the point where non-aboriginal Taiwanese can often imitate the basic moves of common dances.

Dancing at Pasta'ai 2010 in Wufeng

They certainly help spread at least basic knowledge of these tribal cultures, little-known outside Taiwan. They help bring to the public eye more recognition that there is more to Taiwanese culture than that which came from China (or Japan) - more so than museums that, while important (and however excellent), are simply not as active, interactive or in the public eye.

And yet, I can't help but also watch them and feel like one adjective that could be used to describe these dances is "exploitative". Maybe. I'm not sure about that, but the thought has stayed with me long enough to spur me to blog about it. These dances, taken out of context and set down in a subway station or food court - do they really accomplish more than a fleeting thought of "yeah, aboriginal stuff is pretty cool" in the minds of the audience? Does it convey any lasting knowledge or encourage more in-depth learning about aboriginal affairs?

I guess I just don't know what to think, and yes, I realize sometimes it's OK not to have a strong opinion, and to instead muse on possible points of view.

On one hand, many people would never be exposed to this important cultural element of Taiwan if it weren't for such dance shows. That goes for locals, many (not all!) of whom wouldn't actively seek out such facets of their own national history, as well as foreigners, especially those who don't stay long enough to gain such exposure otherwise (click on the "seven hellish months" link). These dances are also generally related in some way to aboriginal stores and eateries - I love millet wine so I find myself in the stores a lot - which I am sure helps boost exposure, and therefore revenue. For what it's worth, the performers seem to enjoy themselves, and the shows do attract a reasonably sized audience, and the shows seem to be organized by the dancers themselves and not by some outside force being all "show us your quaint Native Dances!" (If that were the case I'd be disgusted).

There's also the fact that live performances, to a far greater extent than in contemporary America, are more ingrained in the public psyche. Back home you'd be hard-pressed to find a local band or singing group playing under the town square gazebo anymore, and sadly, the tradition of holiday caroling has almost died out (I'm a fan of the old-school tradition, which involves lots of wassail or a suitably alcoholic substitute, and is much more "rowdy kids demanding treats" than "family oriented").

And yet here, there's super-loud karaoke - seriously, who here hasn't started a hike up a mountain only to come across a temple and associated public complex in which someone was atonally screaming their favorite classic songs? You know you have. Don't even pretend. There are seemingly-randomly staged budaixi puppet shows (I regularly come across them in Jingmei Night Market, put on for no discernible reason).

Budaixi - Taiwanes puppetry - puppet (without body) sporting an unusual number of heads

There are free-to-the-public showings of Taiwanese opera (gezaixi) outside temples as well as in the square around Yongle Market on Dihua Street...just because the people want opera.

Taiwanese opera - gexaixi - free to the public outside Bao'an Temple

Troupes of kids practice Michael Jackson moves to Jamiroquai hits - yeah, I don't know either - or communally engage in urban dance moves - in the esplanades of sports centers and underground malls in Taipei. Finally, what is a temple fair if not a series of live performances, from lion dancers to dragon dancers to bajiajiang?

Ba jia jiang outside of Qingshan Gong during a temple fair on Guiyang St., Taipei

Practically everywhere you turn there's a live show of some sort - some of them transcendent and others amateur-but-charming.

I can see how aboriginal dance shows would fit into that sort of culture.

The second part of the show in MRT Central Park

On the other hand, taking these dances out of context, putting the dancers in costumes they otherwise never wear, that likely haven't been worn commonly since their grandparents' generation, and sticking it in a subway station does make me wonder. Is it Culture Lite? Is it selling out something that would otherwise be authentic?

I don't have the answers, but I have to admit that I've been gnawing on the questions.

Reason #9 to Love Taiwan - Seasonal Foods

Young snow pears being cultivated in Lishan

I teach a class in Tucheng Industrial Park every Wednesday morning (I know - and it's really hard to get up for that class on days like today with steely skies and bursting wind). On the way there I can barely keep my eyes open as the MRT snakes towards Yongning Station, but on the way back I usually plug in my headphones and play a few TED talks.

This time I listened first to Jennifer 8. Lee talking about the origins of Chinese food (I've been to the Wok and Roll and seen Yanching Palace that she mentions) and then to Jamie Oliver's prize-winning talk on the state of food and obesity in the USA.

Listening to Jamie Oliver caused me to stop at the market on the way home. I picked up snake eggplant, two bell peppers, a pile of sweet potato leaves, half a pound of tofu, two large carrots and a bunch of cilantro (and got some free green onions as one should). The entire bag cost a grand sum of approximately US $3.

It was bought off the back of a wooden cart, sold by the woman who helped grow it.

That's what I love about Taiwan: fresh, seasonal food. One year I decided I absolutely had to make chicken curry for dinner - so I went to the market to buy tomatoes. It wasn't the season for tomatoes, so there wasn't a single one to be found! Not even Wellcome had tomatoes (to be fair, my local Wellcome is quite small). Sure, hard, greenish ones were available at Jason's for three times the normal price, but that was it. No chicken curry until tomatoes came back.

And just try to buy a custard apple, green jujube, dragonfruit or pomelo out of season, or get your hands on cilantro when it's not growing well.

In the USA I felt divorced from the idea of seasonal food. Under the great equalizing fluorescence of the supermarket, I could get almost any fruit or vegetable I wanted from whatever continent could grow it at any time of year. In Arlington, Virginia, if I wanted an orange in January or asparagus in December, I could find it. It might cost more (not punitively so) and taste like a pale imitation of the real thing, but I could get it. It wouldn't even seem that expensive, although while American produce prices don't seem that high when you're there, my $3 bag of healthy goodness sure makes them appear stratospheric by comparison.

Here, if I went to the local wet market right now and asked for, say, a dragonfruit, I'd get laughed at by more than one vendor.

To be fair, not everything in Taiwan is local and you can get out-of-season foods if you are willing to pay more, but that's just it: you do have to pay more and often hunt them down. In the USA the costs might fluctuate slightly but not enough to punish out-of-season cooks who can't (or don't care to) discern flavor differences in less-fresh produce.

I'm not a total mushy-heart though - I don't for a second believe that the market vendors don't sell out-of-season produce because "it's not as good and not as nutritious". They don't sell it because some of them are direct representatives of the farm that grew the food, and you can't sell what you can't grow. Others are middleman vendors who buy from various sources (which is why you can get California and New Zealand fruit in the wet market, too), but they sell mostly seasonal foods because they know the frugal market shoppers - often grandmothers who will bargain you down for a shaved penny - aren't going to pay inflated prices. If nobody will buy it at an out of season price, they won't sell it.

That's what happened with the cilantro, anyway: when it wasn't available I asked why not. One vendor assured me she could get it but she wasn't going to, because "I'd have to charge 75 kuai a bunch and do you think these people are going to pay that?" she said as she gestured towards the crowd. It's the invisible hand of the market, but in this case, it works.

It forces me to think seasonally, cook seasonally and as a result eat seasonally - something that more people should be doing.

Updated Post - Used English Books

I've updated a long-ago post about used English books in Taipei - here it is! Most notably, Whose Books (the best selection by far, at least rivaling Bongo's) has moved to Gongguan.

Used Books, in English, in Taipei

Some thoughts on 2/28

2/28 is a day that, to me, conjures up not just a memorial of those who died on that day and in the ensuing chaos and persecution, but also brings to the forefront the emotional and many-tentacled public dialogue on Taiwanese history and identity.

Our jaunt around Taipei on 2/28 brought us through 228 Park, where (as we figured would happen) we came across the official 2/28 memorial ceremony. The park, by the way, has nearly dead grass but some lovely elements, including old-style pagodas and a few genuinely historical monument gates.

After some dreadfully boring speeches by Hau Lung-bin, Wu Den-yih and others, which basically reiterated noncontroversial talking points along the lines of "Democracy is important" (there was more, delivered in Taiwanese, that I couldn't understand), President Ma took the podium to speak.

He delivered the part of the speech we heard in Taiwanese, which was a surprise seeing as I was/am fairly sure he can't speak Taiwanese. He sounded practiced and stiff, not at all like he was speaking a native language. (I almost put the video I took up with a "Rate Ma's Taiwanese" poll but decided that it was somewhat beside the point). The entire affair was dark-suited and well-guarded, with overheated and bored-looking security guards patrolling the park. Regardless of what he said, he wasn't going to be admitting anything we don't already know, and certainly wasn't going to admit KMT responsibility in the incident

We also walked by the DPP opposition protest site before it got started, where enthusiastic people in t-shirts, not sweating in navy suits and red ties, handed out flags amid minimal security.

It was a clear physical manifestation of a divided public - a public that perhaps doesn't wish for such a fissure, and yet can't seem to resolve the roiling public debate on the facts of Taiwanese history and what it means to be Taiwanese (or to identify as "Chinese", or to say one is "Chinese" when one identifies as "Taiwanese" because that's what was taught in school).

As an American, I do understand this - clearly not in all of its complexity and emotion, but on a visceral level, I get it. I come from a divided country too - in different ways under extraordinarily different (and less tragic) circumstances, but divided nonetheless.

I hear a lot of comparisons between American and Taiwanese political parties, and one can draw some similarities between, say, the KMT and Republicans and the DPP and Democrats, but it's an imperfect analogy and that's not really what I mean.

I know what it's like to be from a country where one political party goes on some tragic, senseless crusade "for the good of the country and people" and then tries to wash its hands of responsibility for the fallout - "it was a government, not specifically Republican, initiative" - of course, you can say, the war in Iraq is overseas, and was not aimed at America's own citizens as KMT persecution was in Taiwan...and that's absolutely true: my point is that of a divided public and a government willing to do anything possible, including torture and war, and to then cite necessity for the greater good, to meet its own objectives. My point is that just as Bush's war did not bring about one citizenry united under a common cause, so it is in Taiwan: instead of one memorial service representing a united and remembering public, there had to be a stiff-collared speech-fest on one side and a protest parade on the other.

I know what it's like to come from a country where there are two clearly delineated sides to all public discourse, from which it is nearly impossible to break free from either. The Taiwanese debate on national identity is in many ways more urgent, more fraught with real-world danger and has clearer historical roots than America's culture war, though. It deals with not just social values but who they are as a nationality and, implicitly, an ethnicity.

Basically, what I'm trying to say - and hopefully not failing too miserably - is that I can't possibly ever get, on a gut level, what 2/28 means to the Taiwanese or to any given Taiwanese person. What I saw yesterday on 2/28, however, makes it clear that Taiwan is still a nation and identity divided...and vitriolic public discourse and a polarized public? That is something I do get.

A final thought. It still saddens and scares me in Taiwan to come across apologists for 2/28: I have heard more than once the defense that it was "necessary" to control the "rioters", and I have to wonder if people who say this are just spouting back nonsense they were taught in school by teachers who had no choice but to teach it back in the day. Regardless of the various valid viewpoints one might have on the future of Taiwan, I'd like to see this sad little piece of muck buried forever.

The Parrot of Da'an Park

With the recent warm, sunny weather, I figured it was timely to write a post about Da'an Park, as half of Taipei seems to be hanging out there over the long weekend (the other half is either on Yangmingshan or "sleeping and watching TV" as always).

If you hang out around the amphitheater, the one about halfway up the park on the Xinsheng side, you might notice a bright green bird flitting around and cawing.

You're not hallucinating: it is in fact a green, red-beaked parrot (or parakeet - it's hard to tell: the coloring is more similar to a parakeet, but green parrots do exist, and the size is more akin to a young parrot).

Are parrots local to Taipei? Uh, no.

I can't find any information on a native, even an accidental, population of parrots in Taipei (or Taiwan). There are several feral populations worldwide - there's one in San Francisco - formed from escaped parrots - and it's fairly clear that this little fella is an escapee and has settled in Da'an Park as being the most tree-dense part of the city. Polly got out of his cage, didn't he?

What with all the people who see him digging into their picnic bags to throw him crackers and crumbs, he seems alright for food now, and summer is coming. I just hope he makes it through next winter.

On a slightly different note, Da'an Park is great for seeing all sorts of still-captured species:

Of course the park abounds with dogs of all sizes being taken out to play (apparently they're starting to enforce leash laws, though - a woman with a huge fluffy white mound of dog was getting a citation as we arrived), but you'd be a fool to miss the cats and rabbits, not to mention the occasional guinea pig, ferret, large lizard or flying squirrel on a tiny chain.

These fuzzballs were born and raised housecats, and this was their first foray outside. You can see that they're, uh, taking it pretty well.