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Taiwan’s lost culture
of gratitude
By Chen Ching-chih 陳清池
There is an American man in Chiayi City whom people affectionately call Biko-a
(American). To them, this character from the US genuinely cares about and loves
Taiwan and its people. Among other things, he has recently spent time persuading
Taiwanese to say lo lat when they express their gratitude. To him, lo lat is a
beautiful saying that is authentically Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese), but
unfortunately has been lost to younger generations. It is as beautiful and
genuine to Hoklo as Aloha is to the Hawaiians.
He is right. In fact, I cannot think of any term that is more representative of
Hoklo Taiwanese culture than lo lat. So far most of the people joining his
movement come from southern Taiwan, with the backing of some key professors of
Taiwanese literature.
Lo lat was widely used in Taiwan before the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) took
over after World War II. The Chinese characters for lo lat are 勞力 (physical
labor). Labor was essential in an agricultural society like Taiwan. In earlier
times, instead of hiring agricultural workers, farmers exchanged labor as a form
of mutual aid. My maternal grandfather was a farmer and he and his farming
neighbors exchanged labor during busy periods in the seasonal calendar.
It is believed that with this practice began the expression of one’s gratitude
for the help given in the form of physical labor. Lo lat therefore means thanks
for your labor and, by extension, favors. In addition, it was expected that the
favor should be returned. My father kept a written account of favors received
and returned. It was a family tradition. He instructed his children on the
importance of repaying creditors and benefactors all debts, financial or
otherwise, incurred by the family. Other families also kept the tradition.
However, in Taiwan’s modern market economy, such family traditions are
weakening. The KMT government’s language policy contributed most to the
weakening of Hoklo in general and the disappearance of the lo lat expression in
particular.
I had just turned eight years old when Japan surrendered to the US and its
Allies in August 1945. Japanese colonial rule in Taiwan ended, but Taiwan would
come under another alien rule — the rule of the KMT — shortly thereafter. The
KMT government forbade non-Mandarin-speaking students to speak their mother
tongues at school during the White Terror era, which did not end until 1987.
Ultimately, young people can barely communicate in their mother tongue with
their grandparents, while the elderly folk have had to learn Mandarin to be able
to talk with their grandchildren.
Being the first grandson, I was favored by my grandmother in our extended
family, which included my father and his two younger brothers and their nuclear
families. Wherever she went visiting temples to burn incense, my grandma would
take me along. Sometimes we would even travel by train from our hometown of
Taoyuan to Beigang to visit and worship Matsu, Goddess of the Sea. In her prayer
requesting that the gods grant peace and blessings to our family, she always
ended with the expression lo lat to the deities. Naturally, I emulated her
whenever praying for good school grades. However, my elementary-school grades
were pretty bad and I also failed all junior-high entrance examinations except
one. Being young and naive, I thought that with the deities’ blessings there was
no need for me to study hard. A year before I was to take an entrance
examination to a better high school, I finally realized that without self-help,
there would be no divine intervention.
Among the sumptuous food offerings my grandmother would make to the temple
deities she would include a dozen red turtle-shaped sweet rice cakes. After
returning home from each temple visit she shared the rice cakes with relatives
and neighbors. Supposedly, people who ate the cakes would share godly blessings
and, having received the favor, the folk thanked my grandma by saying jin lo lat
(big thanks).
I also enjoyed accompanying my grandma on her temple visits during festivals.
Like all kids I was excited to see the parade of fierce-looking giant temple
guardians known as dua sian ang (大仙迋) in their colorful martial arts costumes
and almost slow-motion-like walks with their long arms swinging back and forth.
There was also the good-looking Third Prince (三太子), followed inevitably by
various palanquin-riding deities in the parade. Firecrackers contributed to the
atmosphere while smoke and sparks filled the air — temperatures must have risen
by a couple of degrees. This was what we called noisy and bustling dau nau ze
(鬥鬧熱).
Reports and videos on Taiwan’s temple festivals show that today temple festivals
are bigger and more exciting than ever. Temple festivals are an important part
of Taiwan’s folk culture and they have become quite sensual. Newly added
elements include youth-oriented music and even scantily clad dancing girls. The
fanciful-looking Third Prince is as popular abroad as at home and young
Taiwanese have certainly helped to raise Taiwan’s visibility abroad at a time
when the nation is not recognized diplomatically by the international community
on account of China’s political and economic influence.
The revival of temple festivals since the end of martial law in 1987 is great
for Taiwan, but the festival spirit should also be revived. As an island nation
in the western Pacific, Taiwan has regularly been hit by natural disasters such
as earthquakes and typhoons. Taiwanese consequently have traditionally appealed
to Matsu. Praying for protection and showing the deities gratitude has become
very much a culture in Taiwan.
The expression of gratitude as represented by saying lo lat to deities and to
each other is the essence and spirit of that culture of gratitude. It should be
revived and popularized. It would be a wonderful thing if younger Taiwanese
learned to say lo lat while expressing gratitude to others. Is it not a very
Taiwanese way?
It is truly inspirational for us all to know that it is this American in Chiayi
who has rediscovered for us the significance and beauty of the term lo lat in
Taiwanese culture and is leading the crusade to popularize its use. To him, we
should all say: Lo lat! Thank you!
Chen Ching-chih is a professor emeritus of history at Southern Illinois
University, Edwardsville.
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