To make a choice among the things that one is interested, to decide which road to take, and at what age was undoubtedly difficult for me. It was like a similar request to a magician to perform just one trick. However, human rights and later anthropology led me to a world where knowledge to humanity is to help and to grow. I finally found peace in the pursuit of a dream to become a social scientist, an anthropologist, a better person.
From the earliest time I can remember in my life, I have been rather officious over everything unjust to me. I reported classmates bullied in primary school, voted against the installation of air-conditioning for environmental protection in high school, and became a rebel of the nation according to my mom when I worked in Taiwan Association for Human Rights. Really it is an inner desire to speak for the less cared and the vulnerable.
Yet I am still likeable for my wits and spontaneity. People find me amusing because I can turn boring daily life into bizarre stories. Never have I had intention to allure but to tell to live.
So when I stood at the crossroad at my life, I always chose to be a teller. I was a teacher, of course half forced by my family’s expectation, a speaker, a host, an anchor, and finally just a story teller living in the mountain.
People ask me, “Why does it take you so long to finish your thesis?” Instead of explaining how turning over the wrongful modern description of aboriginal people could be a painful task, I said, “There are too many stories to be written down.”
There is a big hope for me to find the correctness in not only just my topic of research. I want to take the pains to identify myself with my aboriginal friends to obtain an insight into the restless world, and the unsettled being, myself.
