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背上有字的石頭
那天早晨,我一如往常的行經日常生活中、早已視為理所當然的路。卻在那天才瞥見,那顆被筆直削去大半的巨石。陽光灑落,巨石就好像是故宮之寶肉形石的斷切面,又或被俐落刀鋒砍半的翠玉白菜。
當視角順著馬路彎曲和斜坡前進,車子逐漸靠近之時,我看到石頭上刻著「毋忘在莒」四個大字。
這條路上怎麼會有這樣的石頭?
回想上一次遇見這樣的巨石是前年夏天在綠島駐村的時候。人權博物館周圍的巨石刻著很多文字;或說,是文字包圍著昔日的監獄。印象中,先是遇到「綠洲山莊」、接著是「滅共復國」、再來是「毋忘在莒」。
聽說,鑿刻這些文字,是當年新生被命令去做的苦差事之一。
巨石那麼高,新生要怎麼爬、又要怎麼鑿呢?他們會如何看待這些文字?
我在新生攝影師留下的照片中尋找線索。發現有許多巨石和山壁的照片,還時常是取景的主角,不過,沒有任何一顆上頭是有刻字的。
其中,有張照片裡頭的巨石,是我駐村、每天傍晚散步的時候,都一定會經過的。雖然照片中的巨石沒有字,但我記得很清楚,巨石是有刻字的,只是是在另外一面。
如果說,人們平時判斷物的正反面時,原則上是將有字的面當成正面、沒有字的面當作背面,來進行構圖。那新生攝影師在取景的時候,則是將沒有文字的面視為石頭的正面,選擇避開文字、逃離複誦和傳播國家欲灌入他們腦袋的意識、拒絕底片成為烙印標語的媒介,以光畫下石頭的肖像。
新生攝影師拍攝這張照片時,他站立的位置正後方還有一顆巨石,和我家附近的相同,背上刻有「毋忘在莒」。不同的是,我家附近的那顆巨石,因為道路拓寬的需求,毫不猶豫、果斷地被砍半了。交通的公共便利性優先於意識形態的象徵。而人權博物館前方的這顆巨石,依然雄赳赳、氣昂昂地佇立在海邊,24小時不間斷地迎接觀光客一起合照。
不過,到底不能忘記的是什麼?在海風吹拂的咾咕石岸邊,他們拍照後,記住的是誰的苦難?
戒嚴以後出生的人、如我,讀著非國立編譯館的教科書長大,看著這四個字,起初自然地唸出「母忘在呂」。當我這一代人,以及下一代人開始唸不出正確的發音,更不可能知道來源自他方的什麼時期的典故,這些字失去了其所象徵的意義,語言無法順利而有用處地彰顯,落入不明與無用,卡在現代社會的道路邊緣。
A Rock with Lettering on Its Back
That morning, I walked along the road of my daily life as usual, taking for granted what I had already seen. But that day, I caught sight of a giant rock that had been almost straightened out. In the sunlight, the rock looked like a cut surface of a Jadeite Cabbage, or as if it were a piece of Meat-Shaped Stone from the Palace Museum.
As my perspective followed the curve of the road and the slope, and the car approached, I saw four large characters engraved on the rock: “Wu-Wang-Zai-Ju (Never Forget the Lessons of History).”
How could such a rock be on this road?
The last time I saw a giant rock like this was two years ago when I was conducting artist-in-residence on Green Island in the summer. Many characters were engraved on the giant rocks around the Human Rights Museum, or rather, the previous prison was surrounded by characters. I remember encountering "Green Oasis Villa" first, then “Mie-Gong-Fu-Guo(Wipe Out the Communists and Restore our Country),” and then "Wu-Wang-Zai-Ju."
I heard that engraving these characters was one of the difficult tasks that the freshmen were ordered to do. (*In the 1950s, political prisoners who were imprisoned on Green Island were referred to by the government as "the freshmen," meaning that they were expected to learn how to be a proper person again.)
The giant rocks were so high, how could the freshmen climb and engrave them? How did they view these characters?
I looked for clues in the photos left by the freshman photographer and found many photos of giant rocks and mountain walls, which were often the protagonists, but none of them had characters engraved on them.
One of the photos was of a giant rock that I passed by every evening when I was there, and even though the giant rock in the photo had no characters, I remember clearly that it had lettering on its back.
Usually, people judge the front and back of an object by the principle of taking the side with the characters as the front and the side without characters as the back, for composition. But when the freshman took photos, he regarded the side without characters as the front of the rock, choosing to avoid the characters, escape from recitation and dissemination of the consciousness that the government wanted to implant in their minds, refuse to make the film a medium for slogans, and use light to depict the image of the rock.
When the freshman photographer took this photo, there was another giant rock behind him, similar to the one near my house, with "Wu-Wang-Zai-Ju" engraved on its back. However, the giant rock near my house was decisively cut in half due to the need to widen the road. The public convenience of transportation took precedence over the ideological symbol. And the giant rock in front of the Human Rights Museum still stands proudly on the coast, welcoming tourists to take photos with it around the clock.
But what should we not forget? After they take pictures on the coral coast where the sea breeze blows, whose suffering will they remember?
As someone born after the lifting of martial law in Taiwan, I grew up reading textbooks that were not published by the National Compilation and Translation Bureau. When I first encountered the phrase "Wu-Wang-Zai-Ju", I naturally pronounced it incorrectly. However, as my generation and the next generation began to lose touch with the correct pronunciation and the origins of the phrase, its symbolic meaning was lost as well. The language became unable to effectively convey its intended message and became irrelevant and useless, stranded on the sidelines of modern society.
《後來的人寄出的風景》展出於2023年綠島人權藝術季《傾聽裂隙的迴聲》,共有五組風景明信片和故事。以下為故事連結——
"Sceneries Posted by Those Who Came Later" is exhibited at the 2023 Green Island Human Rights Arts Festival, "Listening to the Echoes of the Cracks". There are five groups of photos and stories. Below is the link to the story——
〈那座到不了的島〉That Unreachable Island
〈背上有字的石頭〉A Rock with Lettering on Its Back
〈大浪襲來的五分鐘〉Five Minutes when the Big Waves Stroke
〈再蓋一棟新民宿〉Building Another New Guesthouse
〈照片裡看不見的虱目魚苗〉Unseen Milkfish Fry in the Photo