"Peanuts! Bananas! Bean curd! Shoe repairs..." Hawkers met Wolfgang Klussmann outside the old Taipei Sungshan Airport when he first arrived in Taiwan forty-three years ago. His footsteps were to take him to aboriginal areas deep in the mountains. He accompanied Taiwan as the land was transformed from poverty to prosperity. Now his hair has turned gray and he is afflicted with illness. He is returning home with the warmth of Tzu Chi people, which has been with him all along.

Klussmann, a 76-year-old missionary of the German Free Church, devoted most of his life to aborigines in Taiwan. Having fallen ill, he finally went back to Germany to convalesce. Fen-fen Bolt, a Tzu Chi commissioner who looked after him all the way from Taiwan to Germany, said, "He's just like a great bodhisattva, willing to devote himself anywhere he is needed. It's my pleasure to look after him."



Peanuts! Bananas! Bean curd!


In 1925, Klussmann was born in Wuhan, China, where his father was working. Ever since his childhood, he was interested in Chinese culture. Although he was raised and educated in Germany, from time to time he received stamps and other cultural products his father sent him from China. He carefully added each item to his collection.

When he graduated from high school, the world was caught up in the Second World War and he was immediately drafted into the army. When the German army was defeated in Normandy, he was held in a POW camp for one and a half years. During that gloomy time, he was consoled and spiritually supported by the doctrines of Christianity. At the age of twenty-one, he made up his mind to take on the mission of preaching the Gospel.

For twelve years, Klussmann did missionary work in Germany, Sweden and Denmark, but he always had a deep affection for China. In 1958, he applied to his church for assignment to Taiwan, the Republic of China.

"At that time, the airport in Taipei was very small,"

he recollected. There were only two international flights a week. Outside the airport, there were a few pedicabs waiting for passengers. When I looked around, I saw only rice paddies. There were no automobiles and no neon signs. On the road, I could hear peddlers shouting, 'Peanuts! Bananas! Bean curd...'"

"Taiwan progressed very fast economically. In a blink, all that was replaced by skyscrapers and modern vehicles..." Recalling what Taiwan was like forty years ago, Klussmann seemed to have opened his memory box and continued talking. "At that time, everything was cheap... A bus ticket was NT$0.80 [US$0.02], NT$3.50 for a haircut, a boxed lunch NT$5."

Klussmann could still remember that during those years there were no razors in Taiwan. It took him quite some time to eventually find one.



Preaching to the aborigines


After his arrival in Taiwan, Klussmann spent two years in Taipei learning Mandarin. Later on, he became acquainted with some members of the Paiwan tribe (one of the aboriginal tribes in Taiwan) at Pingtung in southern Taiwan. After that, he established a close and everlasting friendship with the Taiwanese aborigines.

He had no church to preach in and no salary or other income. His living expenses were covered by the flock in his parish. The front yards or living rooms of aboriginal families were his church. Everybody enthusiastically gathered together to listen to his sermons. For more than forty years, he traveled between the mountains and the coast, covering almost all aboriginal tribes in Taiwan, except those on Orchid Island, staying with families of church followers. In order to breach the gap between himself and the aborigines, he tried very hard to learn the languages of the aboriginal tribes. Eventually he was able to preach fluently in the dialect of the Paiwan Tribe.

Due to the lack of proper transportation in the mountain areas, Klussmann came to rely on his feet to take him where he needed to go. He never felt tired, even if he had to walk a whole day to reach a village. "Sometimes I walked five or six hours to reach a village deep in the mountains. But people were not necessarily willing to listen to my sermons. About twenty-five years ago, I went to Chungchih Village near Wulai for the first time, but nobody came to hear me. However I kept caring for the people out there, and after fifteen years the number of my flock finally began to increase."

Klussmann said that he tried to preach to the principal of an elementary school at Chungchih Village, but failed right from the beginning. Later on, the principal's only daughter was killed in an accident. Both the principal and his wife were inconsolable. It was Klussmann who helped them emerge from the shadow of sorrow. After that, they treated Klussmann as their own kin and the whole family became Christians. They frequently invited him to preach in Wulai.

There was one aboriginal family at Laiyi Village in Pingtung County. Under Klussmann's guidance, all the members of the family were baptized and the three children all became missionaries. Klussmann had watched them grow up, and he was delighted that they could take his place preaching to other tribes.

During the long period of working with the aborigines, what pleased Klussmann most was that many who were once alcoholics changed their ways. He was also delighted when couples who had not been on good terms with each other solved the problems that had been bothering them, started their own homes and found suitable jobs. That was the reason he couldn't bear to leave Taiwan. "I'll stay as long as I'm needed."



Worn-out feet


As he grew older, Klussmann's feet were not as strong as they had been. Once, he badly injured his legs in a fall. Because of the lack of medical resources in mountain areas, his legs never completely healed. The new wounds plus a poor diet complicated his health problems. Eventually in 1999, at the persuasion of his flock, he was sent to the Tzu Chi Hospital in Hualien to have his knee joint replaced.

At that time, Fen-fen Bolt, who had married a German businessman in Taiwan, happened to be doing volunteer work at the hospital. Seeing a lonely foreigner who was as skinny as "the crucified Jesus Christ" lying on a bed, she went over to care for him. "In the beginning, I didn't know he was German. When I told him my husband was also German and I could speak his language, he was very happy. He was very weak and dispirited. In order to encourage him to be strong, I talked with him a lot about Germany. I also asked my husband to send German newspapers and magazines for him to read. I also discussed with him how to cook German food at the hospital." Under her warm care, Klussmann got better. He always regarded Fen-fen as his best painkiller.

Fen-fen said that she was touched whenever she thought of this old missionary who had devoted forty years of his life to the people of Taiwan. Whenever he went to the villages, the people there cordially addressed him as "Uncle Ku." Children were so happy that they even jumped into his lap. He once said, "As long as I've helped one aborigine to quit drinking or one family to get along better, I feel my stay in Taiwan has been meaningful." He stayed more than forty years in a nation so far away from home. He not only witnessed the progress of Taiwan, but also solved many problems among the aborigines.

Fen-fen and her husband frequently travel abroad on business. They understand quite well the loneliness of someone alone in a foreign country. After talking with her husband, she wanted to invite Klussmann to their home to convalesce. When they went to the Tzu Chi Hospital to take Klussmann home, they saw only an empty bed. His aboriginal followers had already taken him to Pingtung in southern Taiwan.

"I asked people everywhere if they knew where he was. But he didn't stay in a fixed place. Some places were off the beaten track in the mountains. Furthermore, some aborigines couldn't speak Mandarin. It was very difficult to trace him."

She finally found Klussmann half a year later. He had been sent back to Taipei due to an inflammation of an infected wound, and his situation was critical. "At that time he had symptoms of septicemia," explained Fen-fen. "In order to save his life, the doctor had to use heavy doses of penicillin."

Enduring the torment of sickness, Klussmann's body became weaker and he was more emotional. When he mentioned that his mother, who was nearly one hundred years old, wrote to him and asked him whether he would like to go home to visit her, he suddenly became homesick and couldn't hold back his tears. Fen-fen noticed how difficult it was for him to move, and she decided to take him home.

During his hospitalization, many of his aboriginal flock visited and looked after him. They asked him to move to their homes to convalesce. When they were told he was moving to Fen-fen's home, they felt a little uncomfortable. However, after accompanying Klussmann to her home and seeing her sincerity, they finally accepted her proposal and left happy.



His children in Taiwan


Fen-fen admired Klussmann very much, because he never complained. During the days he stayed in her home, he frequently whistled to drive away his pain. Whenever someone came to see him, he was always smiling.

Huang Ming-yu, a volunteer in the Tzu Chi Hospital, said that Klussmann was a very kind old man and a good musician. He could sing Mandarin and Taiwanese songs very well. "Observing his vitality and the love radiating from his smile, we can see the strength of God in him."

Fen-fen also mentioned that in more than forty years, Klussmann had never had a fixed residence. He was always supported by his flock, and so he is very frugal. Once a young woman who was soon to leave for Singapore to study came to see him. He gave her an old envelope with money inside. Like a grandfather, he told her to take care of herself.

Fen-fen and her family offered to support him, but he gratefully refused their kindness. Because Fen-fen was not a member of his flock, he would not accept her offer.

In the past Klussmann returned to Germany every five years, and he always bought a return plane ticket. However when he returned last November, as his health had deteriorated and he could hardly move around, he decided to buy a one-way ticket. He didn't want his aboriginal flock to find out about his decision.

"Actually Klussmann was reluctant to leave Taiwan," said Fen-fen, who accompanied him on the journey. "He knew quite well that if his flock ever found out he had bought a one-way ticket, they wouldn't allow him to leave." In order to help with his medical problems in Germany, Fen-fen consulted the German authorities concerned to help him get health insurance and also asked her relative, who works in the medical service in Germany, to give him continuous care.

On the day of his departure, many of his flock from different places came to the airport to see him off. Klussmann straightened his weak body and waved good-bye to them.

After he returned to Germany, Tzu Chi members in Hamburg visited him. They raised money to cover his living and rehabilitation costs. "Many people wanted to buy you flowers, but the ward is too small for them all. Here's the money for the flowers-you must take it." Fen-fen's thoughtful words finally persuaded him to accept the money.

When local Tzu Chi people went to the hospital to see him, they happened to meet his relatives, who were touched when they saw the group of Asians massage him and cut his hair. They then realized how dearly the old missionary was loved and respected in Taiwan.

Talking about Taiwan, Klussmann is still concerned. "Taiwan is like my second home," he said with a kind smile. "The members of my flock are like my children. Many of them are waiting for me to go back to preach them the Gospel." A phrase echoes in my ear: "Old missionaries never die, they just fade away..."