The King of Catfish: A Journey Through Samsara

This interview documents the testimony of Chan Min-hsiung, a man who once identified as the 'King of Catfish' due to his extensive aquaculture business in Taiwan and later in Australia. After passing away following a long illness, his spirit endured the cycle of rebirth as various creatures before finding refuge at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre. This account was recorded on April 18, 2021, at the centre, where he sought Spiritual Deliverance and eventually found his way to the Western Land of Dharma Nature.

Chan Min-hsiung speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I heard a voice calling out, 'Ah-Xiong! Ah-Xiong!' I looked forward and saw a vast, brilliant expanse of golden light. My head felt heavy, and my eyes were still struggling to open, as if they were glued shut. I was completely disoriented, unable to grasp the reality of what had happened to me. All I could remember was the lingering pride of my past successes. I am from Taiwan, specifically the southern region. People used to call me the 'King of Catfish'—Chan Min-hsiung. I had naturally curly hair and a face that people said looked blessed. I was always dressed in a polo shirt tucked neatly into dress trousers, held up by a designer leather belt. That was my signature style—not too formal, yet professional enough for any occasion in my business life."

The Rise of the Catfish King

"I owned eight fish ponds, started with the capital my father provided. Beyond just raising fish, I focused on cultivating fish fry. Initially, my hometown did not have any fish farms. After visiting a relative who was in the business, I chatted with him and decided that while I was young, I should seize the opportunity to start my own venture. I returned home to carve out those ponds. The equipment alone cost a fortune. There were many grades of machinery, but I believed that if you are going to do something, you must do it to the best of your ability. I bought the most expensive oxygenation systems to ensure the fish had the perfect environment to thrive, guaranteeing the highest quality. Business was slow at first, so I pivoted to cultivating fish fry. It turned out to be a brilliant move; the fry business was far more lucrative than selling mature fish.

Fish fry are incredibly delicate. The water temperature and oxygen levels required are completely different from those for adult fish. I cared for them with immense dedication. Those who bought from me often remarked on the superior quality of my fry and the low mortality rate. They trusted me implicitly, and many became loyal, repeat customers. Because of my success, I was elected as the chairman of the local industry association. My peers respected me and often sought my advice, which I was always happy to provide. I even donated fish fry to farmers who were struggling, helping them stabilise their livelihoods. I was quite successful in my community, and I was even awarded a 'Model of Good Deeds' citation."

A Love Story Against the Odds

"I married a woman who was my pride and joy. She was beautiful—a former classmate from elementary school and the school's 'campus queen.' Back then, I was seen as a bit of a delinquent, while she was the class monitor. Everyone thought I was a lost cause, destined to become a major gangster. I remember thinking, 'If that is what they think of me, I might as well live up to it.' Just as I was ready to give up on myself, she was the only one who encouraged me. She told me that if I applied myself, I could learn anything, and that I was a good person, not the bad boy everyone claimed. I was filled with gratitude; it was her encouragement that kept me from going down the wrong path.

Years later, at an elementary school reunion, I met her again. She was even more elegant than I remembered, and I could not take my eyes off her. I gathered my courage and approached her. When we started dating at twenty, our classmates joked that it was like 'a fresh flower stuck in cow dung' or 'an ugly duckling with a swan.' No matter what they said, I agreed with them—I was incredibly lucky to have her. I cherished her and treated her like a treasure."

The Australian Dream

"After we married, everything went smoothly. My business was stable, and I earned a significant amount of money. We had two sons and a daughter. When I was thirty-two, a distant relative returned from abroad and visited my father. He saw the scale and technology of my fish farming and suggested I take my expertise to Australia, where there was a growing market. I thought about it for a long time before deciding to go alone to scout the potential.

My relative brought me to the east coast of Australia. At that time, the aquaculture industry was largely undeveloped there. The few locals who were involved lacked the technical maturity to scale up. I decided to invest. Because the Australian government restricted the import of fish fry, I had to research and cultivate them locally. Business was in the red at first, and I almost gave up. But with my relative’s encouragement, I gave it one more try. Within a few months, a batch of fry finally survived. I was overjoyed. From one species, I expanded to two, five, ten. Having ten species made me one of the largest hatcheries in the region. When the Australian government learned of my expertise, they invited me to become an ecological conservationist, helping to protect and breed endangered fish species."

The Turning Point of Suffering

"After a few years in Australia, I obtained my green card through a skilled migration program and brought my wife and children over. I left the management of my Taiwan farms to my relative’s son. We began a new life in Australia, though my wife often missed Taiwan. Despite her longing, we settled down, and the children adapted well. Twenty years passed, and I was proud of my achievements.

Then, on my fifty-sixth birthday, after eating dumplings with my family, I suddenly felt a crushing pain in my chest. I was gasping for air. My wife rushed to hold me, panicked, and called for an ambulance, but it was too late. I fell into a coma. In that state, I saw schools of fish swimming toward me. I tried to dodge them, but I could not. I screamed, 'No! No! Go away!' But the fish surrounded me, biting me repeatedly. The pain was excruciating. I tried to wave them away, but there were too many. After that day, I was paralysed from the neck down. I could still speak, but I often suffered from spatial disorientation, seeing fish attacking me. In the middle of the night, I would wake up screaming, 'Don't come near me!' My wife would wake up and comfort me, and only then would I snap out of that terrifying space. I was constantly haunted by these nightmares, drenched in cold sweat."

The Cycle of Retribution

"I lay in bed for three years, suffering mental torture every single day. My wife never left my side. Watching her age and wither while caring for me broke my heart. I told her I wished I could leave so I would not be a burden. She would cry and ask, 'Do you not want me anymore?' I would reply, 'I am sorry for dragging you down.' We would just weep together.

One night, when I was nearly sixty, a group of small fish forcibly dragged me away. I left this world and my beloved family. I became a fish. In fact, during my illness, my spirit had already begun to pay the price by reincarnating as fish. I became every type of fish I had ever farmed—over twenty species in total. Each death was different: some were pulled from the sea and suffocated, others were sliced open while still alive, and some were pet fish that died naturally. Every time I cried for help, no one heard me. I had to die. Fortunately, because I had worked in conservation, I often reincarnated as ornamental fish, which allowed for a more natural death. Before each death, I prayed never to be a fish again."

From Insect to Deliverance

"In my final life as a fish, I saw a fishing hook with a fat, juicy worm on it. I prepared to bite, but I told myself, 'Do not be a fish again.' I remembered the look of that worm so clearly that in my next life, I actually became an insect. I crawled through the soil every day. It was a different life—smelling the earth, eating smaller insects. I was still adapting when I smelled flowers and grass. Suddenly, a bird swooped down and snatched me into its beak. I was terrified and screamed, 'I don't want to die!' I thrashed with all my might, and just as I was about to be swallowed, I fell from the bird's mouth. I gasped for air, 'Phew! That was close.' I realised that even as an insect, there were dangers. I learned to hide instead of crawling around openly.

Just as I was adapting to life as an insect, a heavy rainstorm hit. I instinctively burrowed into the soil, but the water flooded the ground, and my body floated up. I struggled, but it was useless. The ground was submerged. I stopped breathing and became an insect spirit. As I crawled, I saw a building emitting a brilliant golden light. I thought, 'Am I saved? Am I finally saved?' I crawled toward the light, and suddenly, I heard the sound of a chime—dang, dang, dang—and my spirit entered that place of golden light.

I have been here, trying to understand the situation. I never expected that the leader here is a Taiwanese man, whom everyone calls Practitioner Su. He is working hard to bring rain to Australia, and this very rain was what he requested. Although my insect body died, my spirit was able to find liberation here. I feel so fortunate and grateful. When I was chosen to be interviewed, I was more than happy to do it, as it is my duty. I am thankful that there is someone in this world who truly understands the suffering of all creatures and is working to save them. Everyone can be saved.

Here, everyone is chanting 'Namo Amituofo.' I have seen Namo Amituofo, so I knelt in gratitude and joined in the chanting. I feel as though my entire being has been cleansed. I am grateful for the help this place provides to so many lives. As a representative witnessing the aftermath of this great rain, my name is Chan Min-hsiung. Thank you. Namo Amituofo."