Remembering My Buffalo, Neu-ei

As I reminiscence the past, I think about the ups and downs I have experienced through life. One of the sadder tales involves my childhood water buffalo, also known as “Neu-ei”in Hakka. He may be your run of the mill buffalo that could be widely seen in Taiwanese farms back in those days, but my neu-ei has a special place in my heart.

About forty years ago, I completed my military training in Taichung, and proceeded to attend college in Taipei. It was a trying transition to say the least. I remember the first night I arrived in Taipei-it was a rainy autumn night. The somber, incessant raindrops tapping against the roof of the dormitory made me homesick, and I tossed and turned through-out the night. As I faintly dozed off, I dreamt that I had forgot to guide Neu-ei home after a day in the fields – a truly upsetting and traumatic thought for me. After that, I stayed awake until daybreak.

A few weeks later, I went home to visit my ailing mother who was bedridden due to cancer. Glad that I was home, she mustered a weak smile, embracing me and playfully telling me that Neu-ei was also longing to see me. She also recounted a story about how on the first night I left home for college, my father was awoken by a distant ox-call originating from the riverside. It was then that he realized that Neu-ei had not been brought home yet – it had totally slipped my family’s mind as it has always been my job to bring Neu-ei home. That was around the time I had my dream of Nei-ei in the college dorm.

I walked to the barn to visit Neu-ei. He lay there leisurely, his four legs extended comfortably as he peacefully grazed on dry hay. I gently stroked his forehead, which prompted him to softly wag his tail. He seemed to be looking at me with his big buffalo eyes. After 10 plus years with him, I still could not tell if he was ever truly looking at me. While his eyes were aimed in my direction, I could not tell whether his eyes were actually focused on me. In fact, I realized there were many things about Neu-ei I never truly grasped. As the hay turned dry during the harsh winter, was he undernourished? Obviously, he never complained to me about his fate. He accepted me as his caretaker, and would follow me through thick and thin.

　

Personality of Water Buffalo

You can catch the sight of a lot of cattle roaming in the farms of modern Taiwan. However, the only place where you can now see water buffaloes is in the zoo. Before plowing machines, known to traditional Taiwan farms as“Iron Cows”, emerged to replace water buffaloes in 1970’s, it was the water buffalo that bore the brunt of the farm work – such as plowing the field and drawing the carts. They were particularly strong and efficient animals. These natural gifts also lead them to utilize them for multiple jobs. No matter what season, there was always something that the water buffalo could be doing for the farmers.

Of course, plowing fields is the buffalo’s primary job. His shoulder, as a prominent scholar has described, bears the oxbow and carries out any orders from his master. He neither sweats under the scorching summer sun nor trembles during the icy freezing winter – he merely soldiers on to help his master obtain a good harvest. Laboring in the field, he may pause for a short moment to relieve himself, but even such a delay may attract his master’s scolding.

In addition to plowing the field, the buffalo also undertakes other laborious chores, such as transporting crops, vegetables, fruits, machines, furniture, timber and even people. In the movie –“A Cartful of Dowry”, while the bride through the long wedding journey also plays a crucial role. All over the fields and hillsides, the buffalo works hard at planting sweet potato, cutting sugarcane, grinding oil, pulling waterwheel, and gathering watermelon. All these farming chores epitomize his tough life – whether he is working in the countryside, the forest, or mountains of Taiwan. There are so many places in Taiwan whose names are related to buffalo :“Ox Tail Lake”, “Buffalo Stomach Creek”, “Buffalo Dung Hill”…etc. These may not be the most aesthetically pleasing names, but a clear sign of how the buffalo has come to be a revered emblem of Taiwan’s ethos.

　

My Childhood with Neu-ei

I am not sure about where my Neu-ei came from and how he grew up – he was already big and husky when I first took care of him. He didn’t have any special pet name – we just called him “Neu-ei”. In our household, you would often hear : “let’s herd Neu-ei”, “let’s feed Neu-ei”, “lead Neu-ei to the field”…. Neu-ei always seemed quiet and reserved, and yet he had a clear understanding of his role. He always seemed to know where to go and what to do. The largest reaction I could get out of him would be a sneeze when he had a cold, or a gentle“moo”when he saw a cow from afar. Always the timid one, I never witnessed him engaging in any life-or-death duels with other male buffalo to fight for the affection of a cow.

Neu-ei had a voracious appetite. I never got a sense of when he was full. I used to lead him to the grassland along the river so that he could graze freely. While he ate, I would read all kinds of things to kill time – cartoons, newspapers, books, magazines…etc. Meanwhile, Neu-ei would eat to his heart’s content, oblivious to whatever happened around him. When the grass grew too long for Neu-ei to graze upon during the spring and summer, I would cut the grass to feed him. The scars from the snake bites and knife cuts obtained through cutting grass for Neu-ei remain with me today, serving as physical evidence of my times with Neu-ei.

I remember on time in 1960’s, when I was still a senior in high school, my elder brother and I drove our rice-filled ox-cart to the government barn to pay farming tax in the form of the rice we just collected from the fields. The government turned down our rice because it was unripe. We were so discouraged and embarrassed that we took another route back home to avoid facing our neighbors and showing everyone our inferior product. To make things worse, our clumsy cart got stuck at the railway crossing because of the heavy unripe rice that filled it. Our poor mate Neu-ei tried his best to wriggle off the tracks, but it was all in vain. Shortly thereafter, we heard a whistling noise from not far away – a clear indication that a train was soon headed our way. Thankfully, some soldiers rushed over to push our cart away, allowing us to avoid a narrow collision with the train. Afterwards, my brother and I lay raggedly and helplessly on the roadside for a long while. Neu-ei was beat too, chewing on cud at a snail’s pace while grazing at us intensely, as if he were in utter disbelief that we were willing to cause such a ruckus due to our vanity.

Life-time Companion

My mother passed away due to cancer when I was a freshman in college. In the following years, my course load became heavier, and I wasn’t able to take too many trips home because I needed to save money for tuition and graduate school. I finally returned home over winter vacation when I was a junior. It was then I learned that Neu-ei had also aged quite a bit, and could no longer perform the field work that he used to do with such pride and diligence. Because of this, Neu-ei was sent to my relatives in the Hse-teng mountain area, where the fields are less strenuous to plow. From then on, we have never raised cattle again. Looking at the empty barn, I realized that a significant piece of my life would become a mere memory.

The last time I heard about Neu-ei, it was that he was too old to even work the easier fields. The rumor was that he was sold to a slaughter house. I was angry at the thought that while Neu-ei dedicated his whole life to all of us, we couldn’t give him the happy ending he deserved. I also felt an enormous amount of guilt that I was unable to stop all of this from transpiring. It has been forty years since then, but I still cringe at the possibility that this rumor was true.

As the year of the ox has arrived once again, I can’t help but reminisce the times I shared with Neu-ei. I will never forget the bittersweet times I shared with him, and how much you contributed to Taiwan’s growth and development. There was a time where every farming in Taiwan would have a story about their own “Neu-ei”-stories that are worth reminiscing and retelling today. We must acknowledge all that they have contributed to us to do their lives justice.