Lindsay Lee (Seoul): “The Summer of 1950″
Lindsay Listen to Podcast
Seoul, Rep. of Korea
As the rooster cackles,
The blistery gusts of wind in the spring are replaced by gentle breezes.
As the breeze spews the spirit of dreams and illusions through my room, my room thrives with mystical sensations.
As the light dims out, the wind gently wraps around my body and takes me—to god knows where.
And I woke up.
It was the spring of 1950, which also happened to be when Korea was divided along the 38th parallel line. I was the oldest daughter in a family of five: my father, my mother, my brother, and my sister. We were poverty-stricken but could sustain our livelihoods in a shack in *Kyeong-ju. I was fifteen years old and my parents were approaching their mid 40’s: both had wrinkles on their face and callus on their hand due to overworking themselves. Well, not my father. It just so happened to be that he was a habitual drinker that never came home early. He would occasionally beat us, and even worse, never contribute a single penny for our livelihood. He was the ultimate shame of our family.
Enough said about my dad. My mother, on the other hand, was a diligent, respectable worker in a *ko-mu-shin (rubber shoe) factory. She was the backbone and the single source of income of our family. So, she, too, never came home early, and my father just could not tolerate this: “Ya! Had fun hanging out? Eh?” Again, he would violently yell at my mother—while haughtily holding onto the cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of *Soju (alcohol) in his right hand.
“The kids are watching. Let’s talk tomorrow when your mind is straight.”
This kind of a response from my mom was always directed toward soothing my father and turning our attention away from their conflict. I could often see myself cowing away with my brother and sister under the blanket with a lamp, only to grab five stones and play a game of *Kong-gi.
“Hey! You just moved that stone!”
My brother often argued with either one of us, and I never thought to fight back.
“Alright, alright. I’ll let you have it this time.”
If losing a game of *Kong-gi could make my brother and sister happy, then I would gladly do so. As family peace was restored in our house, the sunset looked more than ever beautiful in the year of 1950: the crimson color of the sun faded away as darkness and the moon’s glow prevailed the night sky.
The sultry heat waves of June occupied the atmosphere as the buzzing radio predicted a phenomenal 39 degrees in Celsius tomorrow. What the radio failed to predict, however, was a catastrophe, so great and powerful that it changed the lives of millions of Koreans. On June 9th, 1950, when it was just another day when my siblings and I were playing *dang-da-muk-gi (hop-scotch) and my father was nowhere to be seen, I heard the clinging and clanging of guns and swords afar. I also heard the radio transmitter screeching,
“Jun-jeng! Book-han kun!” War? North Koreans? There was no way, but apparently, my mom took this seriously as she yelled,
“Su-yeon, Su-ji, In-june! Come, come, under the *maru. You have to hide here till I say ‘seek!’ Staying silent is the absolute rule of the game. OK? Sh…” No one except I saw through her intention to hide the fact that we are facing the North Korean soldiers. It was a hide-and-seek to my brother and sister, but I intuitively read my mother’s look on her face: “Please protect them for me, Su-yeon! I trust you.”
We were under the dark *maru: full of dust and hard to breathe, but we were used to this place because it was our main hideout when we played ‘hide and seek.’ The fact that we couldn’t see anything meant that we could trip over the objects under the *maru, but it also meant that we could hide behind them. Then, we heard the footsteps of people coming in and out of the house, accompanied by desperate screams and terrifying gun shots:“*Buk-han-kun, *Man-sae! Man-sae!” Surely, I was terrified, and so were my brother and sister.
“Let’s play hide and seek in here, OK? You can’t make any noise, or else you don’t get any candies.”
“OK! I’m good at that!” “No, I am the Queen of the hider!” Argued my siblings.
“Good, good. Now then, show me who’s the best- I’ll be counting over here! Hide and seek! 100, 99, 98, 97,……”
While Injune and Suji were hiding, I attempted to eavesdrop on what was happening outside the maru. To my surprise, I heard a heated argument between my mom, and a few of the soldiers… I was afraid to the bottom of my wits that Injune and Su-ji might hear it, so I told them to plug their ears with their fingers (also saying that it’s a part of the rules). As for myself, I did the same, since I thought I would be better off without hearing the argument. Yet, I could still quaintly hear voices outside the *maru. To my dismay, I had no choice but to listen to the conversation outside, although I didn’t want to hear it. Right then, the dust went up through my nose and made me sneeze loudly. My sneeze was definitely audible: there was a moment of silence for a few seconds… I could not breathe. What if they heard me? Are they going to come down to get me?
“Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I did hear some kind of noise down there. Is there something going on ?”
“Hey look, there’s handle over there on the floor!” Conversed a pair of soldiers.
They found the door for the *maru. Instinctively, I quickly darted to Injune and Suji to protect them. “Shh…….” I whispered.
One man came down–my heart palpitated louder and faster as the soldiers drew closer to us–it reached to a point where I was concerned the soldiers might hear my heart beat. One of them told the others to stay outside to keep an eye on the woman (apparently my mother). The man lurked around the *maru to see any sings of human trace, as I repeatedly prayed to let him go back outside without finding us. We were hiding under the table, and I could hear the man getting closer and closer. I screwed up all my courage and grasped my fist and my knuckles. Suddenly, he stopped- right in front of the table. I winced, fortunately.
This was exactly when my acute hearing senses were useful-at that moment (in a matter of just a few seconds)-they were stimulated by tensions and small noises. I felt as if my heart would rip up, as anxiety and terror gained full control of my mind and body. I did not move a single bit, and I barely managed to breathe. Yet, I held on to my siblings’ hands tightly- without motion, cautiously listening for the soldier to make another move. Just then, I heard a painful, unpleasant scream from outside. A thousand questions ran inside my mind: Is it my mom? Is she in trouble? Is she okay?
The soldier that was no more than an inch away from our hiding spot went back up as he heard the scream. I was relieved for a second when he left, until the unforgiving anxiety seized me once again. My heart pounded quicker and louder as each second elapsed as I prayed, tightly holding onto Injune and Su-ji’s hand: “God, Help us, Please!!”
After what seemed like hours, the site outside the maru seemed to be at peace once again, and the three of us decided to venture out. Our house was miserably torn down and was stripped of everything, leaving loneliness, emptiness, and despair. Then, from a distance, I heard my dad call out, “Ye-jie!” That was my mom’s name. “Come here and change my clothes!” But his habitual bellow was met by silence. I, too, wondered where my mom was at this point. “Is everything OK? Can we come out?” Injune asked me while breathing heavily, as he peeked his head out the *maru. Soon, all four of us were searching for our mother, only to meet failure. She was…gone. I thought of my mom’s whereabouts, and the only logical answer seemed to be with the North Koreans. I thought frantically, while my brother and sister started crying helplessly. “Where’s mom? Umma!”
“I don’t know, Su-ji, Injune. I don’t know. She will be back, so please stop crying…” I could only attempt to soothe their sorrow and tears, as doing so myself would only draw more tears from them.
My father was, surprisingly, in deep shock. “Where did she go? Is this a joke? I promise I will change. Please, just bring her back!” “I don’t know what to say, dad. It’s just as you see! This is not a joke, you understand?!” I erupted into a violent moment of anger as dad seemed not to comprehend the situation well enough.
Our family now had to confront a loss, an irrecoverable one indeed: a loss of the means to survive and maintain our livelihood. Not only that-because the means to survive and maintain livelihood can be acquired by money-but the morale and hope to live on and achieve the smallest portions of our dreams in life. The hot spell of heat quickly turned into cold, bleak gusts of wind as all of us could not grasp the very true reality of this situation. By God, this just had to be a dream, as my father thought moments ago. Amidst a whirlwind of thoughts, I recollected a piece of advice from my mom, “Care for others and always keep faith and integrity, because what you sow is what you reap…”
As the bogy released the spirit and the light breezed through the darkness,
a trifling puff of wind tickled the tip toe… and,
I heard a very friendly voice. “Are you OK, Ye-jie? What are you doing on the floor? And why are you hugging the radio? Wake up! I’m not going to see you miss the school bus!” Yelled my mom. “Huh? Where am I? Where’s mom?” I asked, still half-living in my dream. My mom had enough of it. “Go and brush your teeth!” She dragged me by the ears to the bathroom. I finally put my thoughts together. I didn’t have the energy to take a shower, so I headed straight to the living room, limping across half way.
First and foremost, I checked where my dad was. And yes, he was sitting on the couch, reading ‘*Chosun Il-bo’ (equivalent to ‘The New York Times’ in Korea) like any father would typically do on a Monday morning. And my mom? “Ye-jie, breakfast!” Yes, she, too, was an ordinary mother, at least from what I thought, for she was cooking breakfast right now, and of course, yelling at me.
“Mom, dad, I’ll see you later!” I shouted as I put my shoes on. “OK, don’t be late, and don’t sleep in class!” The two almost said it in unison. While on the way to the bus stop, I thought about my dream. How my dad was like: smoking a cheap cigarette till dawn, having the foul odor of *soju, abusing my mother, and never being there when we need him as a father and the leader of our family. My mother was one to tolerate such circumstances, and in reverse, replace my father as the leader of the family. At this point, I was slightly grieved and felt sentimental. The reality of my father in truth as a respectable leader and my mother being a *hyunmo-yang-chu (a wise mother and a good wife), was indeed very comforting. I gratified the opportunity to learn a genuine lesson of the value of relationships through such a dramatic, but rewarding dream. Acknowledging the importance of relationships within a family, especially of my mom and dad, I was ready to tackle another great day in my life.
It was then when I saw my yellow school bus drive by at such an agonizingly slow speed. And I just realized that I had missed the school bus.
*Kyeong-ju: a city in Korea, located in Kyungsang-nam-do (in south east of Korea)
*Ko-mu-shin: Shoes made of rubber
*Soju: Korean Alcohol
*Kong-gi: game you play with five stones: jackstone or pebbles
*Dang-da-muk-gi: hop-scotch
*maru: Korean traditional floor
*Buk-han-kun: North Koreans
*Man-sae: Hurray
*Chosun-Il-bo: equivalent to ‘The New York Times’ in Korea: Newspaper
*Hyun-mo-yang-chu: wise mother and a good wife
