loading . . . Kauwan Shrine (九宛祠) View fullsize
Today, I’m going to be introducing the ruins of a historic Shinto Shrine on the eastern coast of Taiwan, but I'm going to start out with a bit of a story about my experience getting there.
Over the past few years, I have spent a considerable amount of time researching and documenting the locations of Shinto Shrines across Taiwan, and when I travel anywhere in the country, one of the first things I do is check to see if the place I'm headed has shrine ruins nearby.
My recent trip to Tainan, for example, coincided with a stop by the recently restored ruins of the Sankenten Sugar Factory Shrine (三崁店社). So, when planning a trip to Hualien, there were a several shrine ruins that I had on my list of places to visit.
One of these shrines was the ‘Kauwan Shrine,' located on the stretch of highway between Hualien City and Taroko Gorge. So, having hopped on an early train to Hualien, I got a rental scooter, took my bags to the hotel I would be staying at and then mapped out my route for the day.
My plan was to first make a quick stop by the majestic Qingshui Cliffs (清水斷崖) to let my new camera have a taste of their beauty, and then I’d make my way back to town stopping several times along the way.
While on the forty-minute ride over to the area, however, disaster struck.
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I had my phone attached to the convenient phone holder device that scooters come with, which are quite useful when using Google Maps. I’ve never really been a fan of these things as I think they’re not very safe, but I didn’t feel like getting lost, so I put my phone on anyway. The problem was that there had been quite a bit of earthquake damage to the region in recent years and the highway over there was absolutely terrible. While driving my phone fell off the holder and it got squashed by a massive truck that was behind me.
Stopping on the side of the road, I got off the scooter and went to pick my dead phone off the road, but since I was already quite close to the cliffs, I decided to just try to calm myself down by looking at something beautiful.
> **Link** : **Taroko National Park (太魯閣國家公園)**
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Unfortunately that wouldn’t particularly be part of my day, either, as the area where tourists were once able to enjoy spectacular views of the cliffs had been decimated by the earthquakes and consequent landslides that ensued, so my drive out there ended up being a complete waste of time.
Fortunately, I have a pretty good memory, so even without having access to GPS, I was able to navigate myself to where the shrine was located. When I arrived, though, I had forgotten where the entrance was located, so it took a few minutes of looking around before I was able to figure it out.
The grass was quite high along the path, so I went ahead of my friend to make sure we were going in the right direction to the shrine. Shortly after, when I found the path to the shrine, my friend took a photo of me from behind taking a photo of the shrine gate. I ended up posting that photo to Threads, which is quite popular in Taiwan, and it attracted an insane amount of engagement, with quite a few people commenting that they had no idea places like this actually still exist in Taiwan.
Eventually we returned to Hualien, and I took my dead phone to a repair place and in order to save the thousands of photo memories on it, I ended up purchasing a new iPhone, and the great people at the repair center did some phone surgery, and were able to get me back up and running.
Despite the inconvenience of my phone dying, I’m actually quite grateful that I have a pretty good memory, and a really good sense of direction, otherwise, I may not have been able to make it to the shrine during this trip, and that would have been unfortunate.
Today, I’m going to offer an in-depth introduction to the ruins of the shrine, including information about what still exists today, but before I start, I think its important to offer a bit of information about the community where it’s located, and the history of indigenous shrines like this on Taiwan’s eastern coast, which is a subject that doesn’t often receive much attention. Then I’ll end by offering information regarding how you can visit the shrine.
# **The Qowgan Tribe** (克奧灣部落)
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Today, the Kauwan Shrine is located in what is known as **Jingmei Village** (景美村) directly behind **Jingmei Elementary School** (景美國小). Under the jurisdiction of **Xiulin Township** (秀林鄉), the village is divided into two communities, **Jiawan** (加灣) and **Sanzhan** (三棧), and has a population of approximately 2000 people. The community is flanked by the Central Mountain Range’s **Jialiwan Mountain** (加禮宛山) with the Pacific Ocean on the other side.
What that doesn’t particularly tell you, though, is that the residents of these communities are predominately members of the **Truku Indigenous Tribe** (太魯閣族), and although most of them speak Mandarin today, you’ll find that many people in the community prefer to speak the Truku language.
The Truku, who are also known as the ‘Taroko People’ are scattered throughout the mountainous areas of Hualien, and as of 2020, there were about 33,000 in total. The Truku are thought to have arrived in boats sometime during the pre-historic period from Austronesia, initially settling in the plains area between Taichung and Tainan. Their time in that area, though, wouldn’t particularly last that long as they were constantly being pushed further inland to the mountains by the plains indigenous people, who had arrived far earlier than they did.
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Their journey into the mountains started by settling near **Nantou** (南投) in central Taiwan, and then as generations passed they continued to migrate further into inland all the way to what is today **Ren’ai Township** (仁愛鄉) in Nantou County, close to what is better known today as **Qingjing Farm** (清境農場) and **Hehuan Mountain**(合歡山). As the community continued to grow, the Truku pushed further east into the mountains, forming new settlements near **Qilai** (奇萊山) and **Nenggao** (能高山) Mountains. Then, in about the 18th century, the Truku made it as far as the lower river bank areas of Hualien.
Currently recognized by the Republic of China’s government as one of Taiwan’s sixteen indigenous groups, modern anthropologists believe that the **Atayal** (泰雅族), **Seediq** (賽德克族) and **Truku** (太魯閣族) people have a common origin, but the Truku branched off from the other groups in about the sixteenth century, and as they moved further east and their communities became more isolated from the other groups, their cultural identity and linguistics evolved into a completely independent ethnic group.
> **Link** : Taiwanese indigenous peoples | 臺灣原住民族 (Wiki)
Truku women during the Japanese era
Constantly on the move, for the safety of their communities, the Truku at first had to deal with other tribes, but later, when they came into contact with the Dutch, the Qing, and the Japanese, they experienced a tremendous amount of hardship, discrimination and repression. Sadly, that is something that continues to today as they (as well as other indigenous groups) constantly face economic and social inequality, substandard educational opportunities and high rates of unemployment.
In recent years, though, efforts have been made to revive traditional cultural practices and preserve indigenous languages in addition to actively seeking for a higher degree of political self-determination and control over the economic development of their communities.
If you’re interested, click the dropdown box to see a list of the communities where the Truku people are currently located in Hualien and Nantou Counties:
* # Truku Tribes
**Xiulin Village** (秀林鄉）
* **Qowgan Tribe** (克奧灣部落) - Jiawan Township (加灣)
* **Kulu Tribe** (固祿部落) - Minzhi Township (民治)
* **Pratan Tribe** (布拉旦部落) - Sanzhan Township (三棧)
* **Kdusan Tribe** (格督尚部落) - Jiamin Township (佳民)
* **Dowmung Tribe** (銅門部落) - Tongmen Township (銅門）
* **Tkijig Tribe** (得吉利部落) - Chongde Village (崇德)
* **Branaw Tribe** (布拉瑙部落) - Chongguang Village (重光)
* **Gukut Tribe** (吾谷子部落) - Hezhong Village (和中)
* **Qnragan Tribe** (卡那岸部落) - Heren Village (和仁)
* **Bsngan Tribe** (玻士岸部落) - Fushi Village (富世)
* **Tpugu Tribe** (陶樸閣部落) - Minyou Village (民有）
* **Bsuring Tribe** (帛士林部落) - Xiulin Village (秀林)
* **Pajiq Tribe** (水源部落) - Shuiyuan Village (水源)
* **Ibuh Tribe** (依柏合部落) - Rongshu Village (榕樹)
* **Tmunan Tribe** (文蘭部落) - Wenlan Village (銅文蘭)
* **Myawan Tribe** (米亞丸部落) - Miyawan Village (米亞丸)
* **Knlibu Tribe** (克尼布部落) - Heping Village (和平）
* **Dowras Tribe** (道拉斯部落) - Minxiang Village (民享)
**Ji-an Village** (吉安鄉)
* **Alang-kiyumi Tribe** (福興部落) - Fuxing Village (福興村)
**Wanrong Township** (萬榮鄉)
* **Murisaka Tribe** (摩里沙卡部落) - Wanrong Village (萬榮村)
* **Maribasi Tribe**(馬理巴西部落) - Mingli Village (明利村)
* **Matanki Tribe** (馬太鞍部落) - Mingli Village (明利村)
* **Thgahan Tribe** (大加汗部落) - Mingli Village (明利村)
* **Ihownang Tribe** (紅葉部落) - Hongye Village (紅葉)
* **Ciyakang Tribe** (支亞幹部落) - Xilin Village (西林村)
* **Gbayang Tribe** (新白楊部落) - Jianqing Village (見晴村)
**Zhuoxi Township** (卓溪鄉)
* **Swasal Tribe** (古村部落) - Lishan Village (立山村)
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What’s important to remember about the Qowgan Tribe, is that the land where the Jiawan community is located today, isn’t actually where the tribe had originally settled. The community was forced upon them by the Japanese, who in order to better control the comings and goings of the Truku, made them move to the lower plains area in the late nineteenth century.
Tensions between the Truku and the Japanese started as early as 1896, just a year after the Japanese took control of Taiwan. Rising anger against Japanese rule would eventually result in Truku chief, Haruq Nawi, leading a few dozen of his warriors down the mountain into the area we know as ‘**Xincheng** ’ (新城) today, murdering thirteen Japanese soldiers, and resulting in what would become known as the Shinjo Incident (新城事件 / しんじょうじけん). The Truku, who wanted to protect their communities and their ancestral hunting grounds took offense to the Japanese encroaching on their land, as they sought to exploit the area’s natural resources.
Between 1896 and 1914, a number of conflicts between the two sides, known today as the Truku Wars (太魯閣戰爭) that saw the Japanese mobilize as many as 20,000 members of the armed forces. At the time, the Japanese estimated that the number of Truku was about 15,000 in total, with only a third of the population being able to take part in the war.
What made things difficult for the Truku, was that their communities were isolated by natural barriers such as rivers, mountains, and the coastline, making coordination difficult. Only about 2000 warriors were able to show up for battle, and the overwhelming Japanese forces, equipped with modern weaponry dispatched them quite easily.
In the aftermath of the battle, the Japanese confiscated the Truku’s weapons, discouraged their traditional hunting and farming lifestyles, introduced a network of police outposts within remote mountain regions, and took full control of their communities in an attempt to undermine their collective social structure, culture and beliefs. Similarly, in some cases, entire communities, such as the Qowgan, were forcibly migrated to areas in the lower plains near what is today **Xincheng** (新城) and the outer-Taroko area, which would have made any future violent incidents more difficult.
> **Link** : Taroko people | 太魯閣族 **中文** | タロコ族 **日文** (Wiki)
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Originally living near the eastern side on the **Jialiwan Mountain’s Northern Face** (加禮宛山北峰), in 1917 (大正9年), the Japanese forced the tribe to migrate to a new settlement a few kilometers north, where they’ve lived ever since. Once they migrated, the Japanese took to equipping the village with amenities that would aid in the tribe’s economic development, constructing a school, community center, etc. They would also assist the tribe with its agricultural production, promoting certain types of crops that the tribe could use to earn money.
Interestingly, when you look at maps from the Japanese era, the tribe is clearly marked as the ‘**Kauwan Tribe** ’ (カウワン社), but when the Japanese era came to an end, the village was renamed by the Nationalists as ‘**Jingmei Village** ’ (景美村), a name that remains in use today, and not particularly representative of the community who lives there.
The Truku Indigenous group wouldn’t be officially recognized by the Republic of China’s government until 2004, and it would then take another eight years before the Qowgan would receive official recognition.
Sadly, despite the treatment the Indigenous people suffered during the Japanese era, it would be something that continued for the next half century, and in some ways continues to this day. This is one of the reasons why its so important for people to support Taiwan’s indigenous people, and making a concerted effort to learn about their history, culture, and the issues they face on a day-to-day basis.
**Shrines in Hualien’s Indigenous Settlements**
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Prior to the arrival of the Japanese in Taiwan, the area we know as Hualien today was referred to as, ‘**Kilai** ’ (奇萊), by the local indigenous people. For much of Taiwan’s modern history, not much effort was put into settling the area, especially during the period of Qing rule from 1683 to 1895, but as soon as the Japanese arrived, the name was swiftly changed to ‘**Karenko** ’ (花蓮港), which more or less translates to ‘Lotus Flower Port’.
In most cases, the Japanese didn’t change the names of Taiwan’s towns and settlements, but for Hualien, if the original name had of been directly transliterated into Japanese, it would sound a little like the word for ‘ _disgusting_ ’ (嫌い / _kirai_), and if you’ve ever been to Hualien, you’re well-aware that its one of the most beautiful places in Taiwan. Using a similarly sounding name in Japanese, the name was changed to ‘**Karenko’** (花蓮港 / かれんこう), which was later shorted to ‘**Karen** ’ (花蓮), and that’s the name that has been used ever since.
From the Japanese era until now, the administrative divisions of **‘Karenko Prefecture** ’ (花蓮港廳) haven’t changed much, so what you see on a map of ‘**Hualien County** ’ (花蓮縣) today is almost exactly the same as it would have been in the early 20th century. The Prefecture was divided up into Karenko City, and then three counties, each of which were home to what were officially classified as ‘**Indigenous Villages** ’ (蕃地 / ばんち). As of 1937, these administrative divisions were officially:
1. **Karenko City** (花蓮港市 / かれんこうし)
2. **Karenko County** (花蓮郡 / かれんぐん)
3. **Horin County** (鳳林郡 / ほうりんぐん)
4. **Tamazato County** (玉里郡 / たまざとぐん)
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Within each of these administrative districts, there were towns and **immigrant villages** (移民村), but the vast majority of the space was referred to as indigenous spaces. What the literature doesn’t actually tell you, though, is that the indigenous areas were a large collection of tribal communities that had been inhabited by the area’s indigenous people for thousands of years.
If I just use ‘**Karenko County** ’ (花蓮郡) as an example, the space reserved for development by the government was about 300 square kilometers, while the space reserved for the indigenous communities on the other hand, which was mostly in the mountains, encompassed 1643 square kilometers.
Thus, due to the number of indigenous communities in the prefecture, the Japanese placed considerable importance on what they considered to be ‘civilizing’ the natives, which came in ways that were both helpful and harmful to the local communities. On the one hand, the Japanese brought modern medicine, education, and development, but on the other hand, these things often came with violence, and at the expense of the individual cultures and languages in these communities as they were forcibly assimilated into becoming citizens of the Japanese empire.
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For the Indigenous Peoples of Taiwan, Japanese attempts at forcible assimilation came quite early, however, by the mid-1930s, when the ‘Kominka policy’ (皇民化運動) officially came into effect, people all over Taiwan were required to transform themselves into loyal subjects of the emperor by speaking the language, changing their names, joining the military, and praying at shrines. There had already been several large Shinto Shrines constructed across Taiwan, but when the ‘Japanization’ policy came into effect, the colonial government started constructing them in every community on the island. This was also the case for indigenous communities, which were required to have small shrines constructed in their towns, most often in spaces near local community centers of the local police precinct.
Like the Kauwan Shrine, Hualien was home to dozens of these shrines within Indigenous communities. Not much information has been collected about them in English, so here’s a list of them in alphabetical order with the name of the shrine, and the date it was established if that information is available:
* # Indigenous Shrines in Hualien
1. **Busin Shrine** (武士林祠 / ぶすりんやしろ)
2. **Ceroh Shrine** (織羅社) - 1931
3. **Ciyakang Shrine** (知亞干遙拜所)
4. **Domon Shrine** (銅門祠／どうもんやしろ) - 1938
5. **Fata'an Shrine** (馬太鞍遙拜所) - 1929
6. **Fujioka Shrine** (富世岡祠)
7. **Hotokesan Shrine** (埃卡托山祠 / ほとけさんほこら)
8. **Kawan Shrine** (九宛祠 / かうわんやしろ) - 1938
9. **Kiwit Shrine** (奇密祠)
10. **Kolado't Shrine** (姑律祠)
11. **Makotaay Shrine** (大港口社)
12. **Mizuho Shrine**(瑞穗祠) - 1931
13. **Natauran Shrine** (荳蘭社)
14. **Sakuma Shrine** (佐久間神社 / さくまじんじゃ) - 1923
15. **Shinsha Shrine** (新社祠)
16. **Shirakawa Shrine** (白川神社) - 1933
17. **Skadan Shrine** (砂卡礑神社)
18. **Tafalong Shrine** (太巴塱祠) - 1937
19. **Tagahan Shrine** (大加汗祠 / タカハン祠) - 1935
20. **Takasago Shrine**(高砂社 / たかさごじゃ) - 1931
21. **Taihei Shrine** (太平祠) - 1935
22. **Takili Shrine** (德其黎祠 / タツキリ祠)
23. **Yayung Shrine** (三棧祠 / サンサン祠)
This list is likely very much incomplete, and as I continue to find more of these shrines, I’ll update the information. What’s important to keep in mind, though, is that despite what seems like a large number of these indigenous shrines, very few remnants actually remain. The Kauwan Shrine that I’m writing about today is the most complete, but there are areas where these shrines once existed where you can still find evidence of what was once there.
# **Kauwan Shrine** (卡烏灣祠 / かうわんやしろ)
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In order to introduce this historic shrine, the first thing I have to do is clear up a bit of confusion about its name. I’ve spent years researching these things, so for me, its easy to understand what’s going on, but for others, there’s likely a considerable amount of confusion regarding the shrine’s name, and whether or not its actually the shrine that they’re looking for.
The problem is entirely a linguistic one, and its something that confuses not just foreigners, but locals alike.
To explain, I have to first give some credit to Japanese anthropologists, because they actually did an exceptional job during their time here in Taiwan studying Taiwan’s indigenous tribes. Don’t get me wrong, the Japanese were guilty of atrocities against Taiwan’s native peoples, but in anthropological terms, the work that they did during their half century of colonial rule to better understand indigenous culture and language, formed the basis for much of the modern work that continues to be done today. As noted above, the shrine was constructed within the space controlled by the ‘**Qowgan** ’ people, which is translated into Mandarin today as ‘ke-ao-wan’ (克奧灣部落). Today, its better to use the romanized ‘Qowgan’ to refer to the tribe, but during the Japanese era, nothing had really been recorded about them, so the Japanese used ‘**Kauwan** ’ (カウワン / かうわん) to identify the tribe.
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Part of the problem with the current naming of the shrine is that Mandarin doesn’t share phonetics that sound similar to the names used in the Truku aboriginal languages. In written Japanese, though, there is **Kanji** (漢字 / かんじ), **Hiragana** (平仮名 / ひらがな), and **Katakana** (片仮名 / カタカナ), each of which is generally used for different purposes. In most cases, many of the cities, towns, counties, villages, etc. in Taiwan already had what was the equivalent of Kanji (Chinese characters) prior to the arrival of the Japanese. When those names were converted into Japanese, it was common to write them using either Kanji or Hiragana, however, indigenous villages were far more difficult to make use of either Kanji or Hiragana to transliterate their names into Japanese - so, in most cases, (there are exceptions) the Japanese used Katakana to write out the names of these areas.
This is why you can find the following names for the shrine:
1. **Kauwan Shrine**(九宛祠) -**** jiu wan shrine
2. **Kauwan Shrine**(卡烏灣祠) -**** qia wu wan shrine
3. **Kauwan Shrine** (加灣祠) -**** jia wan shrine
4. **Kauwan Shrine**(加灣神社)**** jia wan shrine
The few English-language resources that you’ll find about the shrine use a relatively similar romanized spelling, but where it becomes confusing is with the variations of Chinese characters that are used. This probably isn’t much of a big deal for most foreign readers, but for people like me who are researching its history, the lack of consistency is a bit annoying.
Nevertheless, based off of the Katakana and Hiragana that were used during the Japanese era, the shrine’s original name in Romanized Japanese, would have been ‘**Kauwan Shrine** ’ (カウワン祠 / かうわんやしろ). Personally, though, I prefer to just refer use ‘Qowgan Shrine’ because that’s the actual name of the community, but for consistency purposes, I’ll leave it as is.
Finally, another thing regarding the name of the shrine, is probably something that most people won’t actually notice - In most cases, Taiwan’s shrines were classified using the titles ‘**jinja** ’ (神社 / じんじゃ) or ‘**sha** ’ (社 / じゃ), with the first being used for larger shrines, and the latter used for smaller shrines like this one. That being said, the Kanji for ‘**sha** ’ (社) just so happens to also be the same one that was used to identify tribal communities at the time, similar to the ‘**bu luo** ’ (部落) used today. So, to avoid confusion, shrines that were set up in Indigenous communities, like this one, instead used the designation, ‘**shi** ’ (祠 /し), another character used to identify a smaller shrine.
Now, lets move onto the history of the shrine.
According to a report on April 6th, 1934 (昭和9年) in the Taiwan Daily News (臺灣日日新報 / たいわんにちにちしんぽう), one of the Qowgan’s leaders, ‘Piwasaowan’ (ピワサオワダン) had petitioned for a shrine to be constructed in the community, based on the fact that neighboring communities such as **Busin** (武士林), **Hotokesan** (埃卡多散), **Yayung** (三棧), etc. already had one in their communities.
Despite the petition, it would take another few years for the construction of a shrine in Qowgan to be formally approved by the government. Information is scarce, but it seems like assistance with the application process was probably expedited with the help of the local police outpost, and army recruitment services. In both cases, its likely that the establishment of a shrine was mutually beneficial in that having a shrine in your community could ensure a certain level of official attention from the Colonial Government, and for the Japanese, the Indigenous people made for excellent members of the Armed Forces, known as the **Takasago Volunteers** (高砂義勇隊**/** たかさごぎゆうたい), and recruitment was often part of a shrine’s functions.
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The Qowgan Shrine was officially established on **March 9th, 1938** (昭和13年), shortly after the Imperialization Movement was launched (I’ll talk more about that later), requiring a shrine to be constructed within all of Taiwan’s cities, towns, villages and tribal communities. The Qowgan Shrine was ultimately one of a large number of Indigenous Shrines that were established shortly after the 1937 policy came into effect, with the eastern coast of Taiwan becoming a major focal point for the establishment of these smaller shrines.
Japanese control of Taiwan would ultimately only last for another seven years after the shrine was established, but during its short lifespan, the shrine became a focal point of the community, with various celebrations on the annual calendar held there. The shrine’s annual **matsuri festival** (祭り) was held on October 9th, coinciding with the typical Autumn Festival celebrations. During these events, the shrine would have been quite lively with sumo competitions, dance performances, and religious rituals, with the shrine’s **mikoshi** (神輿 / みこし) being carried through the community.
One of the great things about the shrine’s design is that it features a large flat space on the side of the mountain where large events could be held. In terms of what was constructed there, it was no where close to the size of, let’s say, the Karenko Shrine (花蓮港神社), but for the community that it served, the shrine would have been quite lively throughout the year, as people were encouraged to visit the shrine regularly, and important community events, including weddings, would have been held on a regular basis.
In a recent interview coinciding with the restoration of the shrine, an 83 year old member of the community remarked that his only recollection of the shrine from his youth was the sight of a Shinto Priest standing near the shrine gate in his flowing white robes and black hat, which absolutely terrified him - which just goes to show that even for children born well into the Japanese-era, most of these things were still quite foreign to them.
As I mentioned earlier, though, the shrine was only officially used for about seven years prior to the end of the Second World War. When the Nationalists took control of Taiwan in the aftermath, most of Taiwan’s Shinto Shrines were demolished or repurposed, but in some cases, especially for these remote mountainous community shrines, they were simply abandoned, with nature completely consuming them.
In many areas along the east coast, if you know the original location of one of these shrines, it’s possible to find evidence of their existence, but few of them are as complete as the Qowgan Shrine.
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In 2011, the shrine was recognized under the **Cultural Heritage Preservation Act** (文化資產保存法) for its **historic significance** (歷史建築), and in the years since, the local community has taken the initiative to preserve the ruins, excavating the shrine by hand with a team of volunteers.
Thanks to the elderly members of the community, who shared their memories of the the shrine, the team of volunteers has worked hard to ‘ _recreate the sacredness and tranquility that used to encompass the shrine_ ’ and hopes that their restoration efforts can bring about a renewed recognition of the history between the Indigenous community and the Japanese.
> **Link** : Qowgan Shrine to be restored (Taipei Times)
Today, the fruits of their labor can be enjoyed as the ruins of the shrine remain in relatively great shape, and you’re able to experience the basic layout of the shrine, despite most of what once existed on the site lost to history.
# **Kami Worshipped at the Kauwan Shrine**
As mentioned above, the shrines that were constructed in Taiwan’s Indigenous Villages were quite generic in that their architectural design, and the kami who were chosen to be enshrined within were more or less the same. However, this also remains true for most of Taiwan’s larger shrines as well as the Japanese were initially quite quite selective with the kami they chose to promote here in Taiwan.
To better facilitate the (forced) transition, the authorities essentially chose deities, who the people of Taiwan could relate to, given that within Taiwanese folk religion, you’ll also find similar gods.
Likewise, given the tropical nature of Taiwan’s environment, it’s role within the greater Japanese empire was meant to ensure food stability, especially since agricultural output on the mainland had been in decline due to the push for industrialization. The colonial government placed considerable emphasis on Taiwan’s agricultural and natural resources, and for much of the half century of Japanese rule, they offered massive incentives for farmers to come to the island to contribute.
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In few places was this more significant than on the east coast in Hualien and Taitung, where several agricultural immigrant settlements were set up to ensure the stability of the empire’s rice, vegetable and fruit production.
The collection of kami enshrined within the Kauwan Shrine were commonly found within the hundreds of shrines constructed around Taiwan, but since this was a small indigenous shrine, the four kami that were chosen were also enshrined within the dozens of other indigenous shrines in the Hualien area:
* # Kami Worshipped at the Kauwan Shrine
**The Three Deities of Cultivation** (開拓三神 / かいたくさんじん)
The Three Deities of Cultivation, consist of three figures known for their skills with regard to nation-building, farming, business and medicine.
The Three Deities of Cultivation are as follows:
1. _Okunitama no Mikoto_ (大國魂大神 / おおくにたまのかみ)
2. _Okuninushi no Mikoto_ (大名牟遲大神 / おおなむちのかみ)
3. _Sukunabikona no Mikoto_ (少彥名大神 / すくなひこなのかみ)
While these deities are also quite common among Japan’s Shinto Shrines, they were especially important here in Taiwan due to what they represented, which included aspects of nation-building, agriculture, medicine and the weather. Given Taiwan’s position as a new addition to the Japanese empire, ‘nation-building’ and the association of a Japanese-style way of life was something that was being pushed on the local people in more ways than one.
Likewise, considering the economy at the time was largely agricultural-based, it was important that the gods enshrined reflected that aspect of life.
**Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa** (北白川宮能久親王)
Prince Yoshihisa, a western educated Major-General in the Japanese Imperial Army, and a member of the Japanese imperial family was commissioned to participate in the invasion of Taiwan after the island was ceded to the empire. Unfortunately for the Prince, he contracted malaria and died in either modern day Hsinchu or Tainan (where he died is disputed), giving him the dubious honor of being the first member of the Japanese royal family to pass away while outside of Japan in more than nine hundred years, in addition to being the first to die in war.
Shortly after his death he was elevated to the status of a ‘kami’ under state Shinto and was given the name “Kitashirakawa no Miya Yoshihisa-shinno no Mikoto“, and subsequently became one of the most important patron deities here in Taiwan, as well as being enshrined at the **Yasukuni Shrine** (靖國神社) in Tokyo. Of the more than four-hundred shrines constructed around Taiwan during the Japanese-era, its safe to say that Prince Yoshihisa was enshrined within at least ninety percent of them, making him one of the most prolific kami in Taiwan.
**Link** : _Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa_ (Wiki)
# **Architectural Design**
So, the big question is, what actually remains at the shrine today?
The best answer is that the shrine itself is long gone, but the skeleton and the layout of the shrine is still clearly visible, if you know what you’re looking for. So, let me introduce the objects that you should take note of, if you ever plan a visit to the shrine.
**The Visiting Path** (參道 / さんどう)
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The ‘Visiting Path’ is an integral part of any Shinto Shrine, known in Japanese as the “** _sando_** ” (參道 / さんどう), the ‘path’ is essentially just a route that leads visitors from the entrance to where the shrine is located. Even though these paths serve a functional purpose, they are also quite symbolic in that they are also the ‘route' you take on the road to spiritual purification.
If you weren’t already aware, the term ’Shinto’ is literally translated as the “** _Pathway to the Gods_** ” (神道), so the fact that shrines have a physical pathway, which leads the worshiper from the realm of the profane to that of the sacred is quite important. The average length of a shrine’s Visiting Path tends to vary based on the size of the shrine, but it’s important to remember that the path is only complete when you take into consideration some of the objects along the way.
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Typically, a Visiting Path is home to **stone lanterns** (石燈籠 / しゃむしょ), which are meant to ensure that visitors can always find their way to the shrine. Likewise, there should be at least one or two **shrine gates** (鳥居 / とりい), which act as entrances to the shrine’s sacred space, and are protected by **Stone Guardians** (狛犬 / こまいぬ).
The path itself could be constructed with cement, or it could also be a bit rustic with stone steps. In this case, the shrine was originally fitted with cement steps that lined the Visiting Path, however, the cement is in pretty rough shape, and most of what you can see today are the stones that were once covered in cement that make their way up the hill.
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What's left of one of the shrine’s original lanterns.
What you have to keep in mind about the Visiting Path, though, is that in the years since the shrine was constructed, an Elementary School was constructed in the middle. As you’re traveling up the hill to the school, you can see a set of steps where the Visiting Path originally started, with a pair of trees on either side that were planted to celebrate the establishment of the shrine. The start of the path crosses a water canal, another project that was constructed during the Japanese era, to provide fresh water to the community and its farms.
Unfortunately, of the objects mentioned above, the shrine’s stone lanterns are no longer there, and the same goes for the stone guardians that once stood guard. In both cases, it doesn’t necessarily mean that these objects were destroyed as it’s possible that they may have been moved elsewhere. The good news, however, is that the Shrine Gate is still standing beautifully at the top of the Visiting Path.
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While walking up the hill along the Visiting Path, if you pay close attention, you’ll discover that there are random cement objects on the sides. These were originally **Banner Poles** (五座旗幟台), which were likely used for cloth ‘**nobori banners** ’ (幟 /**** のぼり) that would have featured the shrine’s name, and would blow in the wind.
The Shrine Gate is officially known in Japanese as a ‘**Shinmei Torii** ’ (神明鳥居 / しんめいとりい), one of the oldest, and also the most common styles of shrine gates. Originating at one of Japan’s oldest shrines, the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮), in this style of gate, there is no curvature to any of the pieces and features two straight horizontal poles, with the top lintel extending beyond the vertical poles, while the lower lintel connects to assist with the stabilization of the gate.
Amazingly, given the number of devastating earthquakes in Hualien in the ninety years since the shrine was constructed, its quite amazing that the shrine remains in such great shape, given the lack of care its received over that period of time.
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Once you’ve passed through the gate, you’ll have reached a large, empty plateau on the hill where the shrine is located directly ahead of you. The flat section of the Visiting Path, which also would have been constructed with cement doesn’t seem to exist any longer.
Another essential object that you’ll typically come across while traversing the Visiting Path is the **Purification Fountain** (手水舍 / ちょうずしゃ), which is used by visitors to cleanse themselves prior to entering the shrine by performing a purification ritual. The fountain still exists, but its currently on school grounds, and despite wanting to get a photo of it, I respected the school’s wishes and didn’t go onto the school grounds during my visit.
Purification Fountains at Shinto Shrines come in all shapes and sizes, but from what I’ve seen, this one wasn’t a very big one. Similar in design to the fountain at the Sankanten Shrine (三崁店社) in Tainan, it was essentially just a large rock that had a pool carved in the middle that had fresh water pumped into it.
**The Main Hall** (本殿 / ほんでん)
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The **Main Hall** , otherwise known as the “** _honden_** ” (本殿/ほんでん) is the most sacred part of any Shinto Shrine, and is the home of the kami. For larger shrines, there is usually a **Hall of Worship** (拜殿 / はいでん) in front, where rituals are performed and worshippers pray. This shrine, however was much smaller than a typical shrine, and was home to just a single shrine building.
What you’ll want to keep in mind about the Main Hall, in its current state are its ‘layers’, which is something that is (probably) more noticeable today as a ‘ruin’ than it would have been during its short time as a shrine.
What do I mean when I refer to the layers?
Well, even though the shrine was constructed on the side of the mountain, the land was crafted so that visitors would have to climb a hill on the Visiting Path, and then once you arrived at the sacred area of the shrine, you would once again have to climb another set of stairs to another flat area, and then the shrine itself was once again elevated above that section.
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To achieve this, the people in charge of constructing the shrine collected a large amount of rocks to first form a flat wall, and then more rocks for the shrine’s pedestal. Walls like this, known in Japanese as ‘**ishigaki**’ (石垣積 / いしがきつみ), are common aspects of Shinto Shrine construction, but you’ll also see this method used for castles, Buddhist temples, etc.
Basically known as ‘dry stacking’ in English, those in charge of the construction of the shrine collected stones and then stacked them together using clay or mortar. The clever thing about this method of stacking, at least when it comes to shrines, is that there is a certain level of curvature to the way these layers are stacked, and you’ll be able to see that on display if you visit the shrine.
With that in mind, if you’re looking directly at the shrine after just passing through the gate, you’ll notice that in the center of the ‘ishigaki’ wall, there is a set of cement stairs that allows visitors to climb to the worship area of the shrine, and at the top of those stairs, there’s a flat section of land, and then another set of stairs to where the shrine would have been located.
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When you’ve climbed all the stairs and you’re standing in front of where the shrine would have once been located, you might see some pieces of cement scattered and lying on the ground. These were part of the **shrine fence** (玉垣 / たまがき), which used to surround the pedestal on all four sides.
All that remains today of the shrine is something that is known as a ‘**kidan** ’ (基壇 / きだん). The kidan is essentially just a flat cement pedestal that was elevated off of the ground on a stone base. The purpose of the kidan was essentially to ensure that the shrine was stabilized, but could also withstand the power of the earthquakes that are so frequent in the area. The size of the kidan, however, isn’t an indication of how large the original shrine would have been, though, as in these cases, they are typically much larger than the shrine.
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If you go as far as to stand on the kidan, you’ll notice that there are indentations in the cement where the shrine would have originally existed, with the sections that would have originally stabilized it still visible. There is a large square-shaped indentation in the rear, which would have been where the shrine was location, with another indentation in the front that would have connected to the set of stairs on the stone base. To the rear of the square-shaped indentation, there are two pieces of cement that protrude from the kidan, which is safe to assume was once used as a base for pillars that would have helped to stabilize the rear-part of the shrine.
First Generation Taito Shrine (第一代台東神社)
Unfortunately, there aren’t any historic photos of the original shrine, so its difficult to offer much information about its architectural design, however, taking into consideration that most of these indigenous shrines were constructed relatively similarly, I can offer a bit of a ‘guestimation’ of how it would have originally appeared. To help readers better understand, though, the historic photo of the **First Generation Taito Shrine** (第一代台東神社) above should help a bit, if you take a look at the rear portion of the shrine, which would have been somewhat similar in design.
Despite not very much remaining from the shrine, the shape of the indentations on the ‘kidan’ and the design of the shrine gate, mentioned above, it’s safe to say that the shrine was very likely designed in the ‘**shinmei** ' (神明造 / しんめいづくり) style of architectural design, which actually tells us a lot.
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‘Shinmei' is a style of design that is thought to be one of the earliest types of architectural designs used for Shinto Shrines, and is most commonly associated with the design of the **Ise Grand Shrine** (伊勢神宮 / いせじんぐう), arguably the most important Shinto Shrine in Japan. The ‘shinmei’ style is characterized by its simplicity and antiquity, and the way they are elevated is thought to imitate the design of Japan’s early rice granaries.
> **Link** : Shinmei-zukuri | 神明造 **中文** | 神明造 **日文** (Wiki)
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In this style of design, the buildings tend to have a rectangular-shaped base, known as a ‘**moya** ’ (母屋 / もや), which is surrounded by a ‘**hisashi** ’ (廂) veranda on all four sides. However, in the case of this shrine, it was very likely square-shaped, instead of being rectangular as it was uncommon for smaller shrines to have an extended length, unless there were a large number of kami enshrined within.
In the front, there would have been a narrow set of stairs in the center that led to the front door of the shrine, where the repository of the kami would have been placed. However, unlike in other styles of Japanese design, you wouldn’t have found pillars on the exterior of the building, which are typically there to support the weight of the roof. In most cases, shinmei-style buildings utilize the asymmetrical ‘**kirizuma** ’ (切妻屋根 / きりづまやね) style of gabled roof design. Kirizuma-style roofs are basically V-shaped roofs that cover the building, but also extend far beyond the base both in the front and the rear, as shown in the illustration above.
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Unfortunately, the best I can do is theorize about the shrine’s original design based off of what currently exists on-site. The diagrams above should offer a pretty good idea of how the shrine would have originally appeared, but like most of the Shinto Shrines that were constructed around Taiwan during the Japanese era, not much of the original shrine remains in place today.
That being said, if you find yourself in Hualien with a bit of extra time, I recommend a visit to the ‘**Taiwan Ocean Minerals Museum** ’ (台灣海礦館), which is located on the site of the Japanese era ‘**Nippon Aluminum Corporation Hualien Port Plant** ’ (日本鋁業株式會社花蓮港工場) where the factory’s historic Shinto Shrine has recently been faithfully reconstructed, and is designed quite similarly to how this shrine would have originally appeared!
# **Getting There**
> **Address** : #112 Jingmei Village, Xiulin, Hualien County (花蓮縣景美村加灣112號)
>
> **GPS** : 24.082582, 121.606628
Located on the mountain to the rear of **Jingmei Elementary School**(景美國小) in **Xiulin Village** (秀林鄉), getting to the shrine is actually quite simple if you have your own means of transportation. If you’re traveling on a weekend when schools not in session, there is a large parking lot where you can park your car or scooter while you’re visiting the shrine.
The village is actually really small, and there aren’t many people around, other than some families exercising on the school’s playground. They are pretty adamant, though, that they don’t want random tourists wandering around the school grounds, so when you visit, make sure to keep that in mind.
When you park in the parking lot, you’ll notice a cement wall that is set up against the mountain to protect the school from landslides. To get to the shrine, you need to walk around to the entrance of the parking lot where you’ll see a bush-like tree with a sign on it. The sign points in the direction of the shrine, and you’ll see a path that has been worn down from people walking it. You’ll need to walk up the hill, making your way across the clearing between the cement wall and the trees and you’ll eventually find yourself on the shrine’s Visiting Path. From there, its only about a two-three minute walk to the shrine.
If you plan on visiting, I can’t recommend enough that you wear proper footwear for walking in tall grass, and make sure that you bring mosquito repellent, because they’re an extremely unfriendly bunch in that part of Taiwan.
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**Public Transportation**
While not particularly convenient, there are public transportation options available if you find yourself in the Hualien area and want to visit the ruins of the Kauwan Shrine. There are number of bus routes that run up the coastal highway between Hualien City and Taroko that you’ll be able to hop on, but the frequency of their arrival is probably one of the main reasons why I don’t particularly recommend this option. There’s not much in the area near the the bus stop, so if you end up having to wait a while, especially when it’s really hot, it might ruin your experience.
Nevertheless, there are the following bus options that you can make use of:
> **Bus Routes** : #1129, #1132, #1133, #1136, #1141
Taiwanese websites are notorious for suddenly disappearing, so if any of the links provided above for the bus routes aren’t working, you can search them in the Hualien Public Transportation Website, which has an English version available for tourists.
> **Link** : Hualien Public Transportation Website - English | 中文
To get to the shrine, you’ll have to get off at the ‘**Jiawan** ’ (加灣) bus stop, and from there walk up the hill toward the mountains for about ten minutes. You’ll first have to cross the train tracks, so you’ll want to be careful in case there are any trains passing by. From there, you’ll just continue up the hill until you reach **Jingmei Elementary School** (景美國小) and then follow the directions above to get to the shrine.
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My excursion out of Hualien City to visit this shrine ended up being an eventful (and expensive) one, but the ruins of this historic shrine are quite beautiful, and my visit coincided with some pretty great weather, so the light was quite nice. Once I got back up and running with my phone, I posted that photo to social media, and things went a bit crazy with the amount of people interacting with the photo, and the amazement that places like this actually still exist in Taiwan.
Yes, Taiwan has a number of popular tourist destinations that everyone tends to be aware of, but there are also a treasure trove of hidden, but absolutely places to visit in this country. Even though I eventually had to turn notifications on my (new) phone off, I was quite pleased with the fact that I was able to introduce a small piece of Taiwan’s history to thousands of people who had no idea of its existence.
It doesn’t take much effort to discover Taiwan’s hidden treasures, and that’s part of what I’ve always aimed to do with this website!
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# **References**
1. 九宛祠 (Wiki)
2. 秀林加灣神社殘蹟 (花蓮縣文化局)
3. 秀林加灣神社殘蹟 (國家文化記憶庫)
4. Karenko Prefecture | 花蓮港廳 中文 | 花蓮港庁 日文 (Wiki)
5. 花蓮郡 | 蕃地 (花蓮郡) (Wiki)
6. Xiulin | 秀林鄉 | 景美村 (Wiki)
7. Shinto in Taiwan | 臺灣神道教 (Wiki)
8. List of Shinto shrines in Taiwan | 台灣神社列表 **中文** | 台湾の神社 **日文** (Wiki)
9. Taiwan under Japanese rule | 台灣日治時期 **中文** | 日本統治時代の台湾 **日文** (Wiki)
10. Political divisions of Taiwan (1895–1945) | 臺灣日治時期行政區劃 (Wiki)
11. Taiwan Indigenous People’s Portal (臺灣原住民原資網)
12. 克奧灣部落／Qowgan (國家文化記憶庫)
13. Qowgan 克奧灣部落 (原住民民族事典)
14. Qowgan Shrine to be restored (Taipei Times)
15. 全台神社地圖 (地球上的火星人)
16. Traces of Shintoism in eastern and southern Taiwan (Crook, Steven)
17. 花蓮地區的日本神社 (BOX Notebook)
18. 臺灣神社列表 (地球上的火星人)
19. 臺灣に於ける神社及宗教 (臺灣記憶）
20. 原民親手挖掘 加灣神社重見天日 (自由時報)
21. Jiawan Shinto Shrine (Spectral Codex)
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# **Gallery /****Flickr (High Res Photos)**
Featured
Nov 1, 2025
Kauwan Shrine (九宛祠)
Nov 1, 2025
Nov 1, 2025
Oct 18, 2025
Kaohsiung Confucius Temple (高雄孔子廟)
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025
Sep 6, 2025
Sankuaicuo Station (三塊厝車站)
Sep 6, 2025
Sep 6, 2025 https://www.goteamjosh.com/blog/kauwan
