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Taiwanese millet is small-grained, with a distinctive flavor; but there is more to millet than meets the eye.

From ancient times, wherever there were indigenous communities there was millet. According to the Council of Agriculture, in the 1960s millet was grown on some 6000 hectares of land in Taiwan. It was the staple crop of indigenous peoples, and an important offering at tribal rituals. Major annual celebrations revolved around millet planting and harvesting.

With the outmigration of young people from indigen­ous communities, the area of land planted with millet declined sharply, and more than 200 millet varieties have disappeared. This near abandonment of millet farming brought with it the dis­solu­tion of some elements of indigenous culture. Only with the resumption of millet cultivation are native varieties of this cereal beginning to regain their status as bearers of sustainable culture.

 

Clear blue skies stretch as far as the eye can see over Eastern Taiwan, and crested serpent eagles circle overhead. From a hilltop in the Dralengdreng indigenous community of Taitung County’s Jinfeng Township comes a sound like the ringing of handbells. On looking closer, we see 79-year-old Wen Zhenyi shaking a line with empty beer cans attached to scare away birds. But the flock of white-rumped munia are unmoved, and still stand on the millet stalks eating the grain. Only when Wen stands up and runs to the middle of the field do the birds take fright and fly away.

Wen has been in his millet fields since daybreak, around 5 a.m. He says: “You have to start work before the birds do! Moreover, these birds are smart. They know when you’re taking a nap, and fly in immediately. Fortunately, the birds return to their nests when the sun sets.”

The frustration and anger of having to keep birds away is part of the daily routine for millet farmers, but it is a vital step in protecting their harvest.

Bringing back millet

The millet produced in Taiwan has a unique flavor, and though it fetches four to five times the price of imported millet, supply still can’t keep up with demand. Su Muh-rong, CEO of Tse-Xin Organic Agriculture Foundation (TOAF), says that if the area of land planted with millet is to be expanded, it is necessary to deal with the severe damage that birds cause to the crop.

In June of 2019 the TOAF took on a project under the Hualien-Taitung Six-Level Industries Development Program of the National Development Council, which aims to construct an industrial value chain for “six-level” industries. (A “six-level” industry is one combining primary, secondary, and tertiary industries.) Paddy rice is grown in abundance in Hualien and Taitung, but when thinking about Taitung people’s minds turn naturally to millet, which is widely considered a distinctive local product. Increasing production of this crop would conform to the policy goals of increasing Taiwan’s self-­sufficiency in grains and enhancing biodiversity.

But TOAF had already become aware of the decline of millet cultivation and the challenges to reviving it when it assisted with a program for building six-level industries around agricultural produce in Hualien and Taitung back in 2015. Su Muh-rong says that in the county’s four southernmost townships—Jinfeng, Taimali, Dawu, and Daren—for example, less than 50 hectares of land were actually planted with millet. Moreover, the millet farmers were aging, and if the fields were on slopeland or the soil was stony it was impossible to mechanize production, while in areas where millet cultivation was more concentrated there was severe crop damage from birds.

To resume more widespread cultivation of millet, it would be necessary to resolve the bird problem, to enhance the economic efficiency of the cultivated land area, and also to preserve existing varieties of millet.

Chasing away birds

To reduce bird damage, indigenous communities and agricultural agencies have used various approaches from eagle-shaped kites to scarecrows, and the Council of Agriculture’s Taitung District Agricultural Research and Extension Station (TDARES) even invented a solar-­powered bird-scaring robot which could move around in the fields. But none of these approaches was effective for very long, as the birds would figure out within four to five days that they were fakes.

Through many years of field experiments, TDARES has established that if farmers put up full-coverage bird netting when the millet plants flower and form ears of grain, there is no need to spend all day in the fields keeping birds away. Chen Chen-i, head of the Department of Agricultural Extension at TDARES, says that chasing birds away only causes them to move from one section of farmland to another, but erecting bird netting can be 100% effective. In terms of harvests, when a field is guarded by people or protected by other bird scaring methods, a tenth of a hectare (1000 square meters) of land yields only about 150 kilograms of millet. But when bird netting is used harvests can reach 300 kg, doubling production for half the effort.

However, netting to cover a tenth of a hectare costs about NT$15,000, and elderly indigenous farmers are unwilling to make such a big investment. They would rather protect their fields themselves, even though they have stay there more than 12 hours a day, because it doesn’t cost them any money to do so.

TOAF persuaded the National Development Council and the Council of Indigenous Peoples to allow regional revitalization funds allocated to Jinfeng Township to be used to subsidize bird netting. The netting could be in place by August or September 2021 to protect the fall crop. They hope that local millet farmers will seize this opportunity to prevent bird damage.
 

Cultivation for a new generation

One possible solution to the aging trend among millet farmers is to introduce small-scale agricultural machinery.

Project manager Gabi Chou, who has previously promoted cultivation of djulis (Chenopodium formosanum, a.k.a. red quinoa) in Dralengdreng, discovered at the time that as much as two-thirds of the farmland in the area was abandoned. This was mainly due to the aging of the agricultural workforce in indigenous areas. Furthermore, outside wholesalers were paying very low prices for ­djulis and millet, giving farmers no economic incentive to grow them. To address the labor shortage, in 2018 Chou worked with the local millet production and market­ing group to set up a “contract farming team” that uses mechan­ical cultivators for weeding and tilling and seed drills for planting, thereby taking over the burden of the most arduous agricultural tasks.

Chou established a company called Aboriginal ­Cereal Legend to sell products to Leezen and other organic markets, raising the selling price for millet from NT$80 to NT$160 per kilo. Thanks to this branding effort and the involvement of the contract farming team, in the past few years the area planted with millet has increased from just under ten hectares to more than 17 hectares in Dralengdreng alone. In addition, farmers grow djulis, ­pigeon peas and roselle in seasonal rotation.

Chou plans to form the “Southern Link Cooperative for Eco-Friendly Grains” to expand cultivation throughout southern Taitung. Cooperative members must adopt environmentally friendly cultivation practices. He reveals that based on current organic sales channels, the supply of Taiwanese millet meets only one-tenth of the monthly demand of 3000 kg. Therefore farmers who grow it needn’t worry that they won’t be able to sell their crop.

Restoring culture

Long before the government proposed raising Taiwan’s self-sufficiency in grains, opinion leaders and young people in indigenous communities were already taking action to preserve millet varieties and resume cultivation of this grain, to rescue millet culture from the threat of disappearance.

In the Lalauran indigenous community in Taimali Township, the “Millet Workshop,” started under an initiative by tribal leader Reverend Sakinu Tepiq, began the work of reviving millet growing with slightly less than three hectares of land in 2005. Today that area has expanded to nearly ten hectares. They use eco-friendly farming methods, and follow the ways of their ancestors by allowing the land to lie fallow or using crop rotation to give the soil a chance to rest and be reinvigorated.

Sakinu Tepiq emphasizes: “By restoring cultivation of millet we are also restoring culture.” In 1996, people in Lalauran wanted to revive their traditional rituals marking the passage of the year. But when they discovered that their community had no millet crop, they realized that the disappearance of millet meant the disappearance of tribal culture.

“Planting time for millet is in early spring, just after winter has passed. This is marked by the first of the annual rituals. The value of millet lies not only in its being a food, but in reminding us that the earth is a gift from God and people must care for the land. If we are good to the land, the earth will repay us: this is the reciprocation of love,” says Sakinu Tepiq.

Renaissance of millet culture

We next visit a woman named Ou Chun-hsiang, who practices subsistence farming in the Ngudra-drekai indigen­ous community in Jinfeng Township and is known as the “seed saving grandma.” We find the 68-year-old Ou, whose clothes cover her from head to foot to shield her from the sun, in her millet fields, waving around a home-made plastic flag to chase away birds.

Ou, whose Rukai name is Iruane, currently preserves 16 different varieties of millet, including several that would otherwise have been lost. Iruane has taken on the responsibility of naming the varieties, based on their lineage. She has always refused to sell to wholesalers, and says with characteristic indigenous humor: “I have barely enough left after giving most of it to friends and family and providing it for use in ceremonies. There are 365 days in a year, and I work 366, but I’m very happy! Each variety of millet has its own use in daily life. For example, white millet can be given to new mothers during their postpartum month of rest, or to people just recovering from major illnesses, whereas gray millet is used in traditional Chinese medicine.”

Lanpaw Kalijuvung, a Paiwan hunter from the Tjuabal indigenous community in Daren Township, received an ear of grain (a lialieman) from Iruane. Lanpaw explains, “I’m working to plant up a whole field with the grain from that ear, and in two years I will give Iruane back two ears, one to thank her and the other to thank God.” It is through exchanges and gifts of this kind that different varieties of millet survive.

“Millet is our almanac, and our calculations of the important days of the year revolve around millet.” “Millet is an important crop for celebrations and rituals, espe­cially the harvest festival.” “Millet is like genes, ­every family keeps its own variety.” “Millet is a food: we use it to make cinavu and abai [two traditional dishes], as well as millet wine.” In these sentences Lanpaw briefly explains the importance of millet to indigenous cultures.

As Reverend Sakinu Tepiq puts it: “Our generation has experienced a sense of inferiority and been subjected to prejudice. The revival of millet culture and of seasonal rituals can help give the younger generation in indigenous communities a stronger sense of identity, and they can confidently invite outsiders to come and get to know their communities and learn the wisdom of millet culture.” This is something that he didn’t foresee back when he started resuming the cultivation of millet.

Not only is Taiwan millet good for the digestion, but the plan to revive millet cultivation is meaningful for the economy, cultural continuity, and environmental sustainability of indigenous communities. Once the Covid-19 pandemic recedes, why not visit indigenous villages in southern Taitung, try some millet-based cuisine and sweets, and experience the rich cultural significance of millet?

For more pictures, please click 《Millet Renaissance—The Challenges of Reviving a Traditional Crop》