Ama: Rukai Woodcarver

Ama reaches toward his bookshelf beneath a gallery of awards for his carvings and songs. Photos depict his travels and renown – one on stage in Japan, another shaking hands with Taiwanese president Chen Shui Bien. He pulls out a stack of thin plastic-bound books. “Teaching materials,” he explains. They depict various geometric patterns and the meanings of each color and shape. I glance around the studio again and take note of similar shapes snaking up and down the beams and shelves.

Hundreds of carvings make their home in Ama’s studio, many smaller, ranging from one to two feet in height. But he also created a series of larger-than-life sized figures based on the Lukai creation myths. In the beginning the God Bururunanu created eight people. Two of them, Moa Gai Gai and Kene Lele were married gave birth to the Lukai people. Bururunanu, according to Ama’s depiction, is a huge warrior, nearly eight feet tall, with a square frame and the tools of war in his hands. In the past, the Lukai exhibited their domination over neigboring rivals by hanging heads under a huge oak tree on the boundary line of the tribal lands. Consequently Bururunanu wears on his belt heads with various expressions, some happy, some in pain, symbolizing the supremacy of god over the people. Moa Gai Gai has a baby at her breast to show her fertility and Kene Lele, the father of hunters, carries a deer home on his shoulder.

Ama knows the stories well, having served as a chief for some twenty years in Old Haucha, the original village where the Lukai settled. He carved them as a visible reminder to his people of their history. Now a Christian minister, Ama does not worship Burunanu nor Damao-ounale, a later god worshipped by the tribe. But he draws connections between the religion of his forebears and Christianity.

"They prayed to Bururunanu for food, shelter, and protection. We pray to God for the same things,” Ama says.

Moreover, Ama claims that God has given him the inspiration for his carvings. Years ago he made a deal with God. In exchange for the ability to carve and sing, he would put any profit toward missions. This weekend he was paid by the government to entertain a group of visitors. On another occasion he was paid 20,000 NT ($6000 USD) to perform his music in Taipei. Next week he will be in Hualien, speaking to a group of university students. For his end of the bargain, Ama has already founded one church and is in the process of building another. He also uses proceeds to support an assistant pastor at his church and to support foreign mission teams to places like Burma and Malaysia. On the other end, the Almighty seems to have been faithful to the pledge, for Ama is clearly an extraordinary craftsman.

I am not the first to take note of his skill in carving. A visionary and an inventor, his images have often been imitated. Lukai chiefs are denoted by the symbol of a hundred-pacer viper on their cermonial clothing and homes. From this traditional symbol, Ama created a special headpiece with three serpents which is worn by him alone. He pulls it off the shelf to show me. But it an image I have seen before, carved by others in a nearby aboriginal culture park. “I created this! I was the first,” he says. “Now as soon as I create an image I go straight to the government for a copyright.”

One can hardly blame another carver for imitating him. He attacks the common subjects of aboriginal carvings and paintings with an impressionistic chisel. Thus when looking at his people, focus isn’t centered on the typically fascinating items of clothing, head-dressings, jewelry, and weapons. Nor is the viewer’s eye drawn to the events like the hunt or the wedding. Instead, through Ama’s carvings, one is given a glimpse into the eyes and heart of the people.

Though a minister, his works are far from puritanical. He is often bold, creating scenes of nudity, death, and violence. In addition, there is the huge twelve-foot carving of Damouounale, which his ancestors would have used in worship. He points to the spirit post. “I have been criticized for this,” he says. “How can a Christian minister keep something like this in his home? I believe in God. But this is my history. It is important. And it must be protected.”

Ama is the man standing in the gap for his people, seeking to pass a disappearing culture to younger generations. In his mind, the old people don’t really know the culture and the young don’t care to learn. Thus he has taken the burden upon his own shoulders and set his mind to the advancement his two faiths: Christianity and culture.

In execution, Ama exudes pride similar to my grandfather who grabbed his bootstraps and pulled himself through the great depression with a nose to the grindstone ethic and morality-first motto. Grandfather was a salesman in a time when the job was still marked by integrity and carried out with a sharp concern for appearance, punctuality, and honesty. Like Grandfather, Ama is very meticulous, never without a tie and a perfectly ironed shirt. He weighs his words for both for effect and affect, and they never fall lightly on the ears.
His pride has brought him to his position of leadership in the church and village. It has earned him countless honors, awards, and invoked the audience of the president. Pride is the reason he teaches Lukai art to the children of a local high school. It is a pride of strength, creativity, culture, and of absolute faith. Although God gives him the vision of his carvings, I imagine that he wrestles the wood through every minute of creation, lest it try to change his vision. He is not the sort who will let man, carving, nor anything else have the better of him.

Ama's pride may be hubris. It brews fear for the future of his people, making for tired eyes and sleepless nights. It pushes him to create, but restrains him from freely sharing his works lest they be imitated or stolen. It is staunch independence that may hinder him from achievements only attained through community effort. Ama’s pride refuses to be a pillow, giving him rest in his accomplishments and gifts.

Yet every day pride places him in the space between past, future, God and man on his people’s behalf. If his intuition proves correct, a great part of the Lukai culture may disappear with him. So he waits and searches for someone to stand in the gap after he is gone.