慈濟傳播人文志業基金會

Though he had quit a career at sea, he was restless at heart—drifting, unsure of his own calling, much less his destination.

A new, steady job and a stable life didn’t bring him peace of mind. He still had many complaints. He did not believe that there was any true love in the world.

But he started to see things differently when he began photographing people and their lives. This work led him to new perspectives and helped him realize how blessed he had always been.

One day Tang Jiang-hu (唐江湖) watched a program on Tzu Chi’s Da Ai TV. It was about Tzu Chi volunteers giving a helping hand to disaster victims. “Is this real or fictitious?” he mused. “This must be made-up! Why would people do such things for total strangers?”

It was no wonder that Tang, close to 60 years old, could not believe what he saw; his experience in the world up to that moment simply had not prepared him to find such benevolence plausible. But deep down, he could not honestly say with certainty that the report was fake. After all, he was watching a non-fiction program showing actual events.

That program piqued his curiosity. He decided to take part in some Tzu Chi activities just to see for himself if it was true. Perhaps part of his motivation was also to find some fault with the organization. That was a decade ago. He is still with Tzu Chi, cheerfully helping and no longer doubting.

Tang eventually became a documenting volunteer with Tzu Chi. In that role, he has taken photos about many aspects of the foundation: its volunteers, its disaster relief work, sad moments of loss and joyous moments of rebuilding. His own life has been profoundly transformed. “I used to complain about life all the time. Now when I see what circumstances other people have to endure, I think about my own, and I appreciate how blessed I’ve always been. I just didn’t realize it.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” shouted an authoritarian voice. Instinctively, fourth grader Tang Jiang-hu and his cohorts ditched the cigarettes they were smoking and began to run away. The voice followed the children as they scattered: “I know each one of you! You won’t get away with what you’ve done! I’ll tell your parents!”

Oddly, such a threat suited Tang just fine—he didn’t consider it much of a threat at all. In fact, he kind of wished that the man would notify his father.

Tang’s father grew up and was educated while Taiwan was under Japanese rule (1895-1945). Typical of male parents of his time, he treated Tang sternly and rarely talked to him. He married Tang’s mother after his first wife had passed away. Tang and his stepbrothers and stepsisters didn’t interact much, partly because of the large gap in their ages. Tang did not feel loved or even noticed. He felt like an illegitimate child.

His father would scold or discipline him for bad behavior, but the chiding and punishment never shamed Tang. It made him happy instead. At least his father was paying some attention to him. That was why it didn’t bother him at all when he was caught smoking.

Tang’s attitude toward his father continued into middle school. He fought and got into arguments even more frequently, seeking attention. He became a real headache to his family.

After his compulsory stint in the military, still in his early 20s, he went to northern Taiwan to work. He wanted to prove his doubters wrong, to show them that he, troublemaker or not, could make it and go places on his own. Later, without letting his family know, he joined the crew of a ship and began a life at sea.

He continued that life even after he got married and had children of his own. Marriage and children did not physically tie him down, and mentally he remained restless as he drifted wherever his ship took him.

One day when he was home on shore leave, his wife, Bai Fu-mei (白富美), asked him if he would consider getting another job. Tang was making good money at sea, so he asked her why he should consider giving it up. She pointed out that their two children were no longer very young, often had opinions of their own, and would not listen to her. If he could not help, she was afraid they might go bad.

With her words, he realized that he, once the trouble-making child that his father and mother often worried about, would now need to worry about his own kids, who were growing up fast. He did not want to miss the opportunity to accompany them as they grew up, so he decided to quit the sea-going job. He learned to make steamed buns, and he opened a shop to sell them.

Living at home with his own family was a drastically different lifestyle from the carefree one that he had led on the ship. Unused to home life and not very skilled at communication, he often blew up over trivial matters. When that happened, all his wife and two children could do was put up with him.

One day Tang saw a TV program showing Tzu Chi volunteers helping total strangers, victims of a disaster. He found that scene unbelievable, but it sparked his curiosity about the foundation. He wanted to find out more, so he started watching that channel—Da Ai TV—regularly.

Some time later, he went to a grocery store to buy cigarettes. He learned that the grocer’s daughter was a Tzu Chi volunteer.

“I met a Tzu Chi volunteer!” he said excitedly to his wife when he got home. “I want to join the foundation to see what on earth it does. By the way, do you happen to know what a ‘donating member’ is?”

His wife put down what she was doing to answer, “A donating member is a person who donates every month to Tzu Chi.”

“It depends on your ability and willingness. No donations, whether 50 or 100 NT dollars [US$2-3], are too small. The important thing is to give out of kindness and compassion.”

Thinking about the scenes he saw on TV, Tang said, “We can do that. Let’s sign up as donating members.”

A smile spread over his wife’s face. “You’ve been a donating member for more than a decade,” she said. “I’ve been donating in your name without letting you know because I was afraid that you might object and scold me.”

Tang said in return, “Giving money is nothing. What I care about is whether our donations have been used properly and in the right places.”

To help her husband learn more about the foundation, Bai asked volunteer Shi Jia-heng

When they met, Tang told Shi bluntly, “I’m just here to find out if you guys really operate the way your TV programs say you do.” Taking no offense at all, Shi first recommended books by Master Cheng Yen for him to read. Tang was never much of a reader, but he found himself drawn to Master Cheng Yen’s Daily Journal. An adage by the Master especially captured his attention: “In this world, there is no one I do not love, no one I do not trust, and no one I do not forgive.” As he took part in more and more Tzu Chi work, he found numerous instances of volunteers living out this teaching.

Gradually, he became more convinced and satisfied that what he had seen on television was a fair representation of actual events. His doubt was dissipating, and his dedication to the group began to deepen.

Visiting the homes of needy people was one of the tasks that Tzu Chi volunteers performed. Most of the volunteers in the Qishan area, where Tang lived, were female and did not drive. Besides, the area was vast and public transportation was limited. Tang volunteered to drive them to make it easier for them to carry out home visits. He often had to take them deep into the mountains. The experience allowed him to see many destitute families at close range as well as volunteers’ interactions with them.

One particular case stands out in his mind: A woman in her 70s sold Yulan magnolias, a flagrant flower, and used the meager earnings to support her two young grandchildren. Her oldest son had died of a disease, and her other son was in prison on drug charges. She often said to volunteers when they visited her that she didn’t mind living a hard life herself, but she worried about her grandsons.

Volunteers often sought her out in the marketplace where she sold magnolias. They chatted with her so that she might have an outlet for her emotions; at the same time they also bought flowers from her to help support her livelihood. Tang witnessed all this as it happened, and he was warmed by the consideration that the volunteers showed the old woman.

The woman’s son was later released from prison, but he was unable to find stable employment. He was more a troublemaker than a helper for his mother. After a while, Tang began wondering if, in light of the son’s irresponsibility, Tzu Chi should continue helping the family.

Whenever he raised this question, other volunteers would say something to this effect: “Everybody makes mistakes. If he were your family, would you give up on him so easily?” They even took the son to volunteer for Tzu Chi, including serving at a recycling station, in the hope that he might find a right path back to life.

Their responses got Tang to thinking about his own past. He had been a troublemaker for his family since childhood. If his family had given up on him, or if his wife hadn’t tolerated and put up with him, he would not have been there today helping others. Seeing volunteers continuing to care for this family, Tang could not help but admire their enthusiastic patience.

At the same time, he also saw the volunteers helping many underprivileged children being brought up by their grandparents in the mountains. In addition to providing financial aid, volunteers gave the children care and emotional support. Often the companionship would last for years, until the children became independent. Some of the children even moved from being helped to helping others. All this showed Tang how love leads to love.

His involvement with Tzu Chi volunteers gave him a front row seat observing their work, unobstructed and unedited. After seeing them consistently helping the needy with unwavering resolve, case after case, Tang decided to begin training to become a certified volunteer in 2004. He received his certification the next year, and he then took up documenting work for the foundation.

He recalled the night he decided to become a documenting volunteer. One night in the aftermath of a typhoon, a night without electricity, volunteers lit candles and hosted a reception, which had been planned before the storm, to spread the message of Great Love and recruit new members. “In the candlelight, I saw sincerity on every face,” Tang said. Though it was an exceedingly moving gathering, nobody was there to record or document it. Tang thought that was quite a pity, and that pushed him to fill the gap. He decided right then to sign up for the training courses for documenting volunteers.

Once doubts about a cause are expelled, a doubter often becomes a staunch believer and supporter of the cause. Such has been the case for Tang.

To do a good job as a documenting volunteer, he spent almost two thousand American dollars on photography equipment. Mastering photographic techniques, such as how to compose a shot, was not difficult for him, but one thing did turn out to be quite a challenge.

The use of computers does not usually come easy for people of Tang’s generation. They did not grow up with them, may never have learned to use them, and have not found much use for them. Needless to say, they did not learn keyboarding for the Chinese language. This was where Tang ran into a lot of trouble in the early days of his documenting work for Tzu Chi. He often spent three or four hours hunting and pecking at the keyboard with one finger to finish just a few short captions.

He sometimes got so frustrated with keyboarding that he wanted to pull out his hair. Even so, quitting never occurred to him. Somebody suggested that he use a stylus or some form of handwriting input, so he tried it. But in the end he decided to stick with the keyboard. “If I used handwriting, I’d never learn typing,” he reasoned with himself. His effort eventually paid off and gradually his keyboarding skills improved.

Besides his regular volunteer work, he talked about the foundation and solicited donations from people whenever he got a chance. When he patrolled the streets and alleys of Qishan on his motor scooter peddling his steamed buns, he spread the word to, among others, youngsters, imploring them to do good, practice filial piety, and study hard. Consequently, many of them donated their allowances to the foundation to help the needy.

“A child’s mind is pure and easily impressionable,” Tang says. “If you instill wholesome thoughts in them, you make a positive difference in their lives, and this can have a beneficial effect on their whole family.”

Tang used to be strong-minded and reluctant to admit defeat. He had always believed that man could triumph over nature. But his work recording the foundation’s disaster relief efforts changed his attitude.

The devastation that he witnessed in the aftermath of Typhoon Kalmaegi in July 2008 convinced him that he had been wrong to think that human beings were more powerful than nature. “When nature strikes back [at man’s abuse], man is utterly at its mercy,” he said.

He saw areas familiar to him badly bruised by the storm as he recorded the destruction from that typhoon. The Nanzixian Creek burst its banks and wiped out bridges, homes, and other man-made structures in its path. Even natural objects did not escape destruction as the rains and the torrents left gaping holes in mountains and hills.

Rolling up his sleeves, he pitched himself into the foundation’s relief operations. He was glad to do what he could to help. However, just a year after Typhoon Kalmaegi, Typhoon Morakot brought even more destruction. Morakot’s 120 inches of maximum rainfall easily catapulted it to the top of the record book. Extremely heavy rains wreaked havoc in the disaster areas and triggered monstrous mudslides that buried Xiaolin Village.

When Tang heard the news, he retrieved the photos that he had taken a year before when he and others went to that village to provide relief after Typhoon Kalmaegi. The village was there then, but it was gone now. As he looked at the photos, tears blurred his eyes. He vividly remembered taking those photos. “How could this happen? How could this be?” he murmured. He channeled his sadness into a determination to help relieve the suffering of the victims, and he worked hard in the relief efforts.

As he volunteered more, he was away from his shop more. “You’re closed today, again?” a customer asked him as he was getting ready to head out one day. He could only apologize to the customer as he left to attend to his volunteer work.

When he volunteered for the relief work in the wake of Typhoon Kalmaegi, he thought about closing down his shop altogether so he could volunteer full-time. After Typhoon Morakot, that desire only became stronger. His friends were concerned about his livelihood and asked him what he would live on. He responded that by living frugally, his family would do just fine. His children had grown up and become independent, so he did not have to support them any longer. “Besides, I’ve heard of people dying of many reasons in Taiwan, but never of hunger,” he affirmed.

Tang has mellowed quite a bit since joining Tzu Chi. He no longer throws fits or speaks harshly to others. His wife feels his change more than anybody else does. “He used to flare up at the drop of a hat, and nobody was able to stop his rage,” Bai said. “But he’s a new man now.”

And so he is. He thanks his family for putting up with him over the years, the good Heaven for being good to him, and his wife for quietly and patiently accompanying him. He is also thankful for his documenting work. Through his camera lens, he has seen people helping the less fortunate and witnessed the impermanence of life. All of these experiences have helped him see love and appreciate how blessed he is. For all this, he is doing more good to pay back.

The Look Says It All

Text and photo by Tang Jiang-hu

After Typhoon Morakot ravaged southern Taiwan in 2009, Tzu Chi built Shanlin Great Love Village in Kaohsiung for victims whose homes had been destroyed in the storm. The village has public facilities including an elementary school.

Uprooted from their familiar old lives, the children who moved into the village with their families had to adapt to a new life. To help them settle in, members of the Tzu Chi Teachers Association accompanied them and tutored them every Wednesday afternoon after school.

Over time, the tutors and the students bonded, and the students grew to trust them—the most precious feelings between people. But I wondered how I could capture these abstract things that even words cannot describe well?

Ah, this look could be worth a thousand words, so, click, I took the picture.