Separation and Reunion

First, I must confess. Before actually getting involved in the project, I had a flat imagination of “Emotional Needs In Cross-border Movements”. Just like Taiwanese people working or studying abroad, it usually feels lonely living in a foreign land. Thus, falling in love or setting up a community of the same origin may be something that they do. Thus, emotional divergence in movement is not hard to depict. These intimate parabolas are bound to have more detailed and complex brushstrokes. As the researcher, I was not quite sure, so I expected to complement it with the field study. Anyway, the sketch was done. Only refinement of the images remained to finish. This kind of existing framework seemed to be stupid, but at that time, I knew nothing about it or did not even notice its existence. It is then at this base point where the field went beyond the rigid projections, and the recasting was blended into the tenderness of complexity and human essence. 

It was a turning point, or more precisely, an epiphany. That field study in Tainan was memorable. 

On the day of the interview, we traveled from Taipei and went to visit a female migrant worker in the south. My duty was to take the bouquet that was used as a gift, so the day before, I carried the bouquet, with the height to my knee, from Taipei to my hometown Chiayi. On the following day, I escorted it to Tainan. It was a bumpy journey, so the bouquet suffered a bit. When I arrived at Tainan Train Station, I spent a bit of time fixing the damaged roses, trying to cover my guilt. As I met with my partners, we took a taxi to the lady's house. This bouquet looked quite insignificant in the face of her life experiences. Still, she was happy when she received it, which actually mitigated my guilt. 

She lived in a one-story old house. As you entered from the front door, you would see the living room and the bedroom. Then at the back, it was the dining room and kitchen which were connected to the back door. The clothes were hanging outside the door which was opened, forming a half-open space. This was a house that contained a complete sense of life. It was uncommon among migrant worker communities in Taiwan. Her house was provided by her previous employer. This Indonesian migrant-worker couple got married in Taiwan and gave birth to their daughter here. As the elder whom she took care of passed away, the employer let her family stay, saying that it was not easy to raise a child. They could save their rent for other purposes. She has been here in Taiwan for five years. To save more money for her family, she never went back home, not even once. The employer’s children were working abroad, so he treated her as his own kid, hoping that someone abroad could also treat his children in the same way.  

The pandemic lasted for three years which made me naturally attribute the separation to the disease. But I forgot that sometimes separation might originate from no other choices but an inescapable price. Separation is doomed, so emotions are forced to break up and resurrect; it was like the second sons destined to sail away in “The Man with the Compound Eyes.” It’s all about missing and making up for those who stayed and those who left. The lonely hearts incline to gather together, like the spirits of the second sons in the ocean or those on the continent at the end of the ocean, who are alive, heartbrokenly, and need some comfort from each other. 

I remember her eyes, bright and gentle – ingenious when speaking and focused when listening. Her tender sight had a touch of cleverness that was in line with the bouquet of pink and violet roses. We walked around together with the baby. Her motherly eyes which were coated with luminance sweetly looked at the baby. The baby had his father’s face, yet the eyes were as smart as hers. Before the interview, she kept murmuring that her make-up was not good enough and changed her outfit several times. At the same time, she urged us to eat first. As we finished the meals, she told us to eat more. Then, it was her turn to eat, but the baby’s crying soon interrupted her. The question of how long can the couple with the baby stay here in Taiwan was something to worry about years after. The more urgent thing was to go back to the workplace and put the baby under a friend in an Indonesian shop’s care. She would only have one day off per month. That was another kind of micro-separation.

Since the field study until now (the moment when I am writing it), it has been two months. As I recalled my mind with different presumptions, I feel ashamed. The metaphorical arrogance inside is ignorant and dangerous. The human mind is as complex as the universe. Some marital relationships that exist in name only may be accompanied by short rendezvous because of loneliness. Some people believe that love is a sacrifice without asking for any compensation. Some other think that love and pain are two sides of the same thing which will never fail the lover and the loved one. My initial arrogance was like seeing the artificial satellites moving in the night sky, thinking that humankind could create the constellation. However, I forgot about the numerous spaceships hidden in the universe and celestial bodies that are beyond human knowledge out there in the darkness. Our heart is like the galaxy. The field study was like an interstellar voyage. As I shuttled with the spaceship, I noticed the different responses within the elements inside the galaxy. Some people would shine like stars, whereas others orbited like planets and satellites, reaching a balance with the gravitational force. 

I tried to clear my mind and position myself in the right place during this time. I even questioned the legitimacy of others’ openness toward me. Was the exchange of the same value? Would we unconsciously take advantage of others? I had these kinds of questions in my mind. My heart was in a paradoxical state, and I was courage-less due to my narrow mind. Luckily, my other partners and creators of the team were fully supportive and filled me with energy so that when I was a listener, I could humbly record the gilded moments.

Later, I often think of the lady and her employer in Tainan, a father and daughter that cannot be traced biologically. I remembered the straw mat in her living room, the dish code on the table in the dining room, all the simple cooking utensils, and the TV and speaker bought by the employer for them. All angles of that space were polished and rounded with the love and care of the users. Both sides that are separated seem to reunite again, to get what they always long for within the displacement of time and space.

Note 1: “The Man with the Compound Eyes” is Wu Ming-Yi’s long novel published in 2011. By using climate change as the introduction, it integrates two storylines in the island of Taiwan and the fictional Wayo Wayo Island. It is said that the second sons in Wayo Wayo must be sent out on a no-returning voyage in the 180th full moon after their birth. The protagonist Atile'I is no exception. As Atile'I sails out, all second sons that are sent to die in the oceans appear as spirits. They follow the principle of “no helping and no destroying” and watch his journey by his side.