The mobile library was launched by Andreas Liu, a teacher at ­Junyi Experimental High School, and several of the school’s students, with a focus on serving migrant workers in Taiwan. (photo by Lin Min-hsuan)
 

As noon approaches on a Sunday, we arrive at the Indonesian store Toko Sum­ber Re­jeki on Tai­tung City’s Guang­ming Road in search of the Southeast-Asian Mobile Library.

At first, all we see is a long table outside, but soon a handful of senior-high students begin to file into the shop, dragging along with them a suitcase. They lay out a length of ex­otic­ally patterned cloth to serve as a tablecloth, and before a half-hour is up, the table is covered with books in Indonesian, Vietnamese, and Thai. The Southeast-Asian Mobile Library is open for business!

Beginning with goodwill

The mobile library was launched by Andreas Liu, a teacher at ­Junyi Experimental High School, and several of the school’s students, with a focus on serving migrant workers in Taiwan. Those who want to borrow books from the library need neither library cards nor ID—they just need to sign the books out with the students and put down a deposit, then they can borrow the books for as long as they want.

The whole project started with a lesson at school.

Liu is currently a social studies teacher, but previously worked with the International Cooperation and Development Fund (TaiwanICDF) handling Indonesian affairs. During his own trips to the country he was helped out by the locals, and their warmth and kindness left an impression on him. Long interested in migrant labor issues, in class Liu often shares with his students his experiences with Southeast-Asian cultures and the living conditions of migrant workers in Taiwan. Despite how closely they live with Taiwanese, these workers still seem strange and alien to many locals. Andreas Liu and his students hope to change that.

In May 2017, prior to Eid al-Fitr, Liu and his students made some Indonesian dishes like pi­sang go­reng(deep-fried banana in batter) and te­lur ba­lado (Indonesian chili eggs) and took them down to Fu­gang Fishing Harbor to share with the migrant workers there. The students also put on a show, playing some hard-practiced Indonesian love songs on their guitars.

During their visit, the students got to see for themselves the cramped living conditions the crew members endure on the boats. Working for prolonged periods out at sea with people who don’t share their language and might even discriminate against them, they can feel alone and isolated.

What they saw sparked in the hearts of some of the students a feeling that they had to do something for these people. After some discussion, the mobile library plan began to slowly take shape. They collected books from the Southeast-Asian-themed bookstore Brilliant Time and then headed to Showtime Plaza in Tai­tung City to set up a stand. But that first day they were kicked out of the plaza, and Liu and the students were at a loss as to where to go next. It was then that they encountered Li Shiu-lien, who had previously served as an interpreter for migrant workers at Fu­gang Fishing Harbor. Li, who moved to Taiwan some 20 years ago after marrying a Taiwanese man, runs Toko Sum­ber Re­jeki, selling a variety of daily necessities and groceries. When she heard about the students’ plan, she generously offered her storefront for their use, and the Southeast-Asian Mobile Library moved there.

Cultural exchange through cuisine and language

Understanding the hardships immigrants and migrant workers can face in a foreign land, each Sunday Li whips up a variety of authentic Indonesian snacks for the workers, who have nicknamed her “Mammy.”

When the library opens up each Sunday, Li also invites Liu and the students to partake. Alongside Li’s delicious Indonesian dishes like kreng­sengan da­ging (beef stew), kari ayam (chicken curry), and gado-gado (Indonesian salad), Liu contributes Taiwanese dishes like Taiwan-style pickled vegetables and braised dried tofu. Everyone gathers around to eat and chat in Indonesian and Chinese like one big family. And when the migrant workers visit Toko Sumber Rejeki for some karaoke, they’ll invite the students along too. Li even lets them try on some of the traditional Indonesian outfits on display in the store and teaches them some traditional dances, bringing everyone closer one step at a time.

After a little while of this, the students’ sincerity had touched Li Shiu-lien, and she asked Liu if he could teach her to write Chinese. “It takes a lot of courage to admit you don’t know something and to show that vulnerable side of yourself,” says Liu. “Over time Li and the others came to trust that the students could teach them and wouldn’t laugh at them.”

When the day of the first lesson came, Liu had been expecting to help Li, who already speaks Chinese quite well, go over things like contracts and bank documents. But then, with a look of ser­ious­ness, Li led Liu and his students up to a makeshift classroom set up on the second floor of Toko Sum­ber Re­jeki with a whiteboard and a few tables and chairs. Seated at the tables were a handful of migrant workers, ready and waiting. “Teach them first, they need it more than I do,” said Li.

As it turned out, not long before, the boss of a migrant worker had taken advantage of a lack of interpreters to get him to sign an unfair contract that had him working several 24-hour days. When he requested some time to rest, the boss got someone to beat him, and ultimately got him kicked out of the country. Li thought if she could have been there, or if the migrant workers could read Chinese, such things would be less likely to happen.

The students began the lessons teaching Mandarin Phonetic Symbols, leading the workers through pronunciation and writing drills. Sometimes they would even hold the workers’ hands, guiding them through characters stroke by stroke. “Before the end of the lesson, I taught one woman how to write her own name. She almost cried at finally knowing how to do that,” recalls one of the students, Judy Li, who was herself deeply moved by the experience.

Because of the migrant workers’ working hours, the people who show up for each lesson aren’t always the same, and nor are their Chinese levels. As a result, the students have taken to teaching in smaller groups to make things a little easier. And in addition to teaching Chinese to the workers, they also ask the workers to teach them some Indonesian. Liu explains that in teaching there is a kind of top-down relationship, but he and the students want a more equal relationship with the workers, and by teaching ­Indonesian the workers get to feel that they have something to give in return. 

The students try to develop engaging lessons around situations the workers will encounter in their daily lives, like seeing a doctor, buying train tickets, or going to a movie. This winter, some of the Junyi students who come from as far afield as Tai­chung, Tai­nan and Hua­lien specially set aside two days during their holidays back home to return and hold a two-day intensive Chinese language course, including arranging to take a ride to Fu­gang Harbor to get a better understanding of the working conditions of migrant fishing crews.

“Sometimes when there’s a lot on my plate I think about giving up the teaching, but then there’s a voice in the back of my mind that says if I give up, then who’s going to teach them?” says one of the students, Scarlett ­Chang. Over time, the students and workers have become like family, and this growing relationship has led to the students getting more involved in social issues relating to migrant labor, whether through reading relevant studies or volunteering with NGOs. What they do, they do not do to add volunteer hours to their resumes, nor to get class credit, but entirely from their own desire to help.

The Southeast-Asian Mobile Library is one result of this concern. Lending out books really isn’t even the point for the students so much as letting migrant workers know that there is a place where people will be there for them. When we make cultural exchange part of our lives, we learn that both sides are good and that there are many similarities between us all. This fosters greater understanding and inclusiveness, and puts up a welcoming light for our friends from afar.