本期文章為金門大學企管二乙僑生吳紹良同學探訪泗湖之作品，透過吳同學精心採訪及文字表達，希望能讓更多國外旅客認識金門之美，也提供本報讀者英文學習之參考。

Located in the countryside of Kinmen (金門), Sihu Village (泗湖村) is a charming testament to the island's rich heritage and traditional way of life. With its well-preserved Hokkien-style architecture, serene ponds, and lush fields, the village offers a peaceful escape from modern hustle.
As one of Kinmen's many historic settlements, Sihu embodies the island's unique blend of Fujianese culture and wartime legacy. Strolling through its narrow lanes, you'll encounter century-old stone houses, ancestral temples, and remnants of Kinmen's military past—all set against a backdrop of idyllic rural scenery.
Beyond its scenic beauty, Sihu Village is a living community where traditions endure, from local handicrafts to age-old customs. Whether you're exploring its quiet pathways, admiring its traditional swallowtail roofs, or learning about its role in Kinmen's storied past, Sihu provides an authentic glimpse into the island's enduring spirit.
Learning about the history and legends of the Wind Lion God in Houhu fills me with a deep sense of wonder. This isn't just a stone statue - it's a powerful spiritual guardian that has watched over the village for generations. The way villagers believed it could punish wrongdoers by breaking animals' teeth gives it an almost supernatural presence. It's fascinating how this cultural artifact blends practical wind protection with deep spiritual beliefs, showing how closely intertwined daily life and folklore were in traditional Kinmen society.
The restoration efforts in the 1950s speak volumes about how valued this Wind Lion God was to the community. Even after years of weathering and damage, the villagers recognized its importance enough to carefully rebuild and reposition it. The ritual of using white rooster blood to empower it adds another layer of mystical significance. These traditions reveal a worldview where the physical and spiritual realms constantly interact, where a well-placed statue could mean the difference between harmony and chaos for the whole village.
What strikes me most is how this Wind Lion God represents Kinmen's unique cultural identity. Positioned strategically to block winds from Mount Taiwu while avoiding populated areas, it shows thoughtful consideration of both natural and supernatural forces. The detailed craftsmanship - from its fierce fangs to the seven stars on its face - transforms it from mere decoration into a character with personality and power. Even today, knowing these stories makes me see these stone guardians differently, as silent witnesses to centuries of history and belief.
Learning about Mr. Gong fills me with a solemn respect for the way communities honor even the unknown. The small, humble temple housing a pair of unidentified human bones speaks to a deep cultural reverence for the dead—a belief that even nameless souls deserve dignity and worship. It's moving to think that fishermen, upon discovering the bones, chose not to discard them but to enshrine them, transforming a chance finding into a sacred tradition. The fact that villagers still offer sacrifices during festivals, and that even the deity Lord Liu acknowledged Mr. Gong's presence, shows how seamlessly this unknown spirit has woven itself into the fabric of Sihu's spiritual life.
There's something haunting yet beautiful about this practice. The bones could belong to anyone—a lost sailor, a forgotten traveler, or even a victim of war—yet they've become a protective force for the living. The 2008 reconstruction, where Mr. Gong requested a raised base to avoid dampness, adds a strangely intimate touch, as if the spirit itself still cares for its own resting place. This blend of mystery, respect, and communal care makes Mr. Gong more than just a folk belief; it's a testament to how humanity seeks meaning in the unknown, turning even fragments of the past into guardians of the present.
The Stone Turtle's history stirs a different kind of awe—one tied to survival, play, and the unseen forces of nature. At first glance, it's just a rock formation, but its role as a bomb shelter during the 1949 August 23rd Artillery Battle gives it a heroic weight. Imagine villagers huddled beneath it, finding safety in its shadow while war raged outside. Later, it became a playground for children, a place where laughter and games momentarily eased the hardships of postwar life. This duality—protector in crisis, companion in peace—makes the Stone Turtle feel almost alive, a silent witness to generations of joy and fear.
The legends around it deepen its mystique. The tale of the antique dealer who suffered misfortune after disturbing the Stone Turtle suggests a lingering spiritual presence, one that punishes disrespect. The geomantic belief that Sihu's landscape resembles a "tiger forcing a turtle into water" adds another layer, tying the stone to the village's very identity. It's fascinating how a natural formation becomes a character in local lore, its "divine power" shaping both land and lives. Today, though children no longer play around it, the Stone Turtle remains a sacred stop during temple processions—a reminder that some guardianship never fades, even when the world changes around it.
Learning about the Dai Tian Xun Shou Palace fills me with a deep sense of reverence for how faith and community intertwine in Sihu Village. This temple is far more than just a place of worship—it is the emotional and spiritual heart of the village, a living force that has shaped daily life for generations. The idea that the temple, the deity (the "King"), and the villagers form an unbroken chain of mutual care and devotion speaks to a profound cultural tradition where belief is not just personal but collective, binding people together in shared rituals and responsibilities.
What strikes me most is how every aspect of life—from temple construction to seasonal festivals, from divine consultations to communal labor—revolves around this sacred space. The temple is not just a backdrop to life; it actively guides it, offering protection, moral order, and a sense of belonging. The emphasis on selflessness and collective benefit in maintaining traditions is especially moving. It suggests that the temple's endurance isn't just about faith in the divine, but also faith in one another—a shared commitment to preserving what uplifts the entire community.
There's also something powerful about how the temple adapts. The mention that "customs can be established or changed" reveals a dynamic spirituality, one that balances deep-rooted tradition with the need for renewal. This isn't a stagnant relic of the past, but a living institution that evolves while holding fast to its core purpose: fostering harmony and justice under the King's watchful gaze. To witness such a tradition is to see how sacred spaces can become the soul of a community, anchoring identity and purpose across centuries.
Ultimately, the Dai Tian Xun Shou Palace feels like a testament to resilience—not just of a temple, but of the people who sustain it. It reminds me that the most enduring traditions are those that unite, adapt, and above all, serve the greater good. Walking through Sihu, one can almost feel the presence of that unbroken chain, linking past, present, and future in an endless cycle of devotion and care.
Exploring the stories of Sihu Village—from its Wind Lion Gods and Mr. Gong's humble shrine to the Stone Turtle's protective embrace and the Dai Tian Xun Shou Palace’s sacred influence—reveals a community where history, spirituality, and daily life are deeply intertwined. Each landmark is more than just a physical structure; it is a vessel of memory, belief, and resilience, shaped by generations of villagers who have relied on these guardians for survival, identity, and hope.
The Wind Lion God stands as a fierce protector against both natural and supernatural threats, embodying Kinmen's struggle against the elements and its unyielding spirit. Mr. Gong's shrine, with its anonymous bones, reflects a profound respect for the unknown dead, transforming chance discoveries into enduring traditions of reverence. The Stone Turtle, once a wartime shelter and children's playground, carries the weight of legend, its geomantic power a reminder of the unseen forces that villagers believe shape their fate. And at the heart of it all, the Dai Tian Xun Shou Palace orchestrates communal life, binding people together through rituals that balance divine worship with collective responsibility.
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金門大學王宏男博士（評析）：來自南洋的學子吳紹良同學，在我這學期通識中心開設《金門生態學》中，展現了令人讚賞的穎悟之姿。尤其在《泗湖村史》的筆耕之間，字裡行間流淌著對這片土地深沉的眷戀。願他在往後的四年光陰裡，這份赤忱之心，終能學有所成，圓滿大學之夢。