For some, weeds are merely refuse, but for Dongi Kacaw from Taiwan, they represent a meal.

Throughout Taiwan's forests, beneath the dense canopy, rattan palms with fearsome spikes cling to their trunks. Known as yellow rotang palms, they bear spotted beige seeds, perfect for crafting jewelry. Historically, the pliable branches were woven into furniture and mats, but today these palms are primarily appreciated as ornamental plants or houseplants.

However, for Indigenous Taiwanese educator Dongi Kacaw and her colleagues, rattan palms offer far more than mere decoration: they provide food. Their young shoots are delectable. "They have a slight bitterness and astringency, but they are excellent in soups with pork ribs," she explains. "When harvested at the right moment, they are also fantastic when grilled and served with a pinch of salt."

For 26 years, Kacaw has championed the use of wild, edible greens in Taiwan. As the principal of the Hualien Indigenous Wild Vegetable Center, a community hub on Taiwan's east coast, she facilitates lectures on traditional ecological wisdom, seed exchanges, and workshops for crafting art from bark, brewing wine from rice, and preparing dishes from tropical foraged nightshades. Kacaw's efforts are expanding the public's understanding of Taiwanese cuisine, which often overlooks the rich food traditions of Indigenous peoples in favor of those from major cities and the Chinese diaspora that predominantly inhabit the island. Yet, long before Chinese settlers arrived in the 16th and 18th centuries, a diverse and vibrant community of Indigenous Austronesians thrived in Taiwan.

"I am Amis," she states, identifying with one of Taiwan's 16 recognized Austronesian linguistic groups, each with its own subgroups. "Our society is matrilineal; historically, grandmothers and mothers would return from work with wild vegetables. Consuming wild greens is woven into our cultural fabric."

Indigenous peoples have inhabited Taiwan for thousands of years, but starting in the 16th century, waves of Chinese immigrants began arriving, eventually outnumbering the island’s original inhabitants by the early 19th century. In the early 20th century, Taiwan was colonized by the Empire of Japan, which aggressively sought to assimilate Indigenous populations into mainstream society, resulting in the loss of many traditional ecological practices. Knowledge of plant identification, in particular, was neither prioritized nor actively taught.

Kacaw, who began her journey by writing articles for magazines, is determined to reverse this trend. Through her initiative, she motivates farmers to grow native, edible greens and diligently collects heirloom seeds. Last year, she sent 12 heirloom legume seeds to the World Vegetable Center, an international seed bank located in southern Taiwan. "Three of those were included in a shipment to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault," Kacaw states with pride, referencing the largest seed storage facility in the world.

Kacaw possesses an almost encyclopedic knowledge of wild greens. She guides me through the back of the Wild Vegetable Center, which initially appears overgrown and untidy—but that’s intentional. Her philosophy advocates for the acceptance and flourishing of what some label as 'weeds.' She identifies common plants found along sidewalks and hills in nearly every Taiwanese neighborhood, emphasizing their utility. Among them are shepherd’s needles, a prevalent weed with small, bright flowers; its tender leaves are perfect for stir-frying or mixing into an egg scramble. Nearby stands a tall bush with spade-shaped leaves—ramie, a perennial related to stinging nettles, whose fibrous stems can be fashioned into fabric. Adjacent to the ramie is a small roxburgh sumac tree with glossy, curved leaves. "In the past, we used the berries as a salt substitute," she recalls.

When Kacaw began promoting wild greens in the 1990s, she faced skepticism. Indigenous culture was often dismissed as primitive, but perspectives have shifted as Taiwan has started to embrace its Indigenous heritage. "People were incredulous about the edibility of these plants, but now even the mayor is enjoying wild greens," she shares.

In 2000, Kacaw authored a book titled Edible Wild Greens of Taiwan’s Pangcah People, which captures extensive knowledge about local flora; it has since been translated into both Amis and English. In her book, she offers advice on foraging wild sugarcane—she recalls collecting the fluffy tips of its flowers for play. Kacaw also explores the betel nut palm, known for its psychoactive seeds, yet instead of focusing on the well-known nut, she extols the palm's leaves. Thick and sturdy, these leaves can be dried and shaped into waterproof bowls that can hold boiling water without leaking. Through Kacaw's perspective, the mundane transforms into the remarkable, reflecting her deep-rooted Indigenous knowledge.

Despite her passion for foraging, Kacaw advises her students to be mindful. "Pesticides pose a significant risk," she notes, highlighting that some urban areas are treated to control invasive weeds. "In our practice, we always take sparingly, ensuring we never uproot plants so they can continue to thrive."

Throughout her years of advocacy, Kacaw has observed a gradual embrace of her ideas by mainstream society. The Hualien Indigenous Wild Vegetable Center stands as a tangible representation of her efforts. Moreover, her work has influenced the culinary landscape across Taiwan: a growing number of chefs are incorporating local vegetables into their dishes. Additionally, Indigenous youth are launching small businesses focused on plants that have been cultivated by their communities for centuries.

"In one of the nearby tribes, they've developed an entire industry around arrowroot, which can be processed into starch," she notes. Although not native to Taiwan, arrowroot has adapted to the island, and wild patches can now be found in the mountains. "Establishing their business took considerable time, but it’s proving successful," she adds.

Despite her significant achievements and extensive botanical knowledge, Kacaw emphasizes that the world of wild edible plants is vast and cannot be fully mastered in a single lifetime. She hopes to continue her studies for as long as possible. Her next ambition? To publish a collection of recipes.

"You can dedicate a lot of time to learning the names of plants, but if you don't understand how to utilize them, you won't develop a meaningful connection with them," she explains.