by Ellen Oh
That night, Jinjoo’s parents came home together. Her father carried his work bag close to his chest, as if it was very heavy. When he opened it, they saw why. It was filled with a sack of rice and not his usual work tools. He handed it to Eomma, telling her to hide it in their secret hiding place under the floor panels in the living room. It was where they kept their family valuables. Now rice would be kept in there also. Rice had become a precious commodity, to be kept safe from the North Korean soldiers.
At dinnertime, Jinjoo’s mom gave everyone small servings of rice mixed with barley and beans and told them to make it last.
“I hate the North Koreans!” Jinjoo said as they ate their dinner. She stared down at her empty rice bowl, still hungry for more. While they didn’t have a feast at every meal, there had always been enough food to fill her stomach. But now, they had to ration everything they ate.
Looking across the table, she saw Shinae sneak a spoonful of rice out of Eunjoo’s bowl and shove it in her own mouth while Eunjoo was feeding Junha.
Shinae moved to take another spoonful, but Jinjoo shouted.
“Shinae eonni!”
Startled, she looked at Jinjoo’s angry glare and subsided.
“What is it, Jinjoo?” her father asked. “Why are you yelling at Eonni?”
Knowing that her parents would only yell at her for being disrespectful, Jinjoo said nothing but instead crossed her arms and glared at Shinae.
“Eat your food, Eonni,” Jinjoo said to Eunjoo. “I’ll take care of Junha.” She took the little boy into her lap and began to feed him his rice. “Eonni, please eat all your food.”
Even though Eunjoo was older than her by a year, Jinjoo was very protective of her older sister. Eunjoo had always been frail and would get sick easily, while Jinjoo was bigger and stronger with a healthy constitution. When they went out, Jinjoo was the one who usually carried little Junha on her back, while Eunjoo would hold four-year-old Junsoo’s hand.
And because their mother was a bit absentminded, Jinjoo felt she had to help take care of her sister. The truth was that the person their mother cared for the most, and always came first, was their father. The children were more of an afterthought. And in their family, all the children knew that. Father, on the other hand, cared for all of them. Which was why Jinjoo squirmed her way next to her dad at dinner. Because she knew he would take care of her.
“Jinjoo,” her father called. “Ah!”
She looked up to see her father holding a spoonful of rice and meat. Even as she could see the angry glare of her mother, she quickly opened her mouth and accepted the bite.
“Yeobo! You have to eat and keep your strength!” Jinjoo’s mother said.
“I get plenty to eat! Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I worry about my little helper! Jinjoo needs to be strong so she can work with me at the shop, right, Jinjoo?”
“Yes, Abeoji!”
Junha gurgled as he tried to reach for his food and almost toppled out of Jinjoo’s arms. Getting a firm grip of him, Jinjoo fed him the rest of his food as she avoided her mother’s disapproving gaze.
In the middle of the night, Jinjoo woke to the urgent sound of someone frantically knocking on their door. Jinjoo sat up and stared out at the shadows of moving bodies across her bedroom door. Her sister was still fast asleep, her arms flung wide and her legs sprawled out over Jinjoo’s. Jinjoo pushed her sister off and scurried over to the door. She slid it open and stared down the hallway to where the brightness of the lamps sent long flickering shadows dancing across the paneled wood before her eyes. She heard harsh whispers and weeping.
Jinjoo crawled out into the corridor and quietly made her way down to the living room. Peeking around the opening, she saw the room was full of adults who she didn’t recognize. They were crowded around someone lying on the ground. Jinjoo craned her neck and was shocked to recognize her gomo, her father’s big sister. Her mother sat next to her, stroking her back. Gomo was always so proud and dignified and wore Japanese pearls her son had bought for her when he’d become police captain. But now she was sprawled on the ground, her black hair a wild mess, as if she’d been ripping it out by the handful. Her blue hanbok skirt was twisted all around her, showing her white underskirts, and the bright blue of her hanbok jacket sleeve was stained. Her hands were dirty. Jinjoo squinted. Where her gomo’s hands pressed into the floor mat, dark stains appeared. Suddenly, Jinjoo was very frightened. She didn’t want to know what it was. She didn’t want to know why her gomo lay as still as death, her eyes pressed tightly together even as tears coursed down her face.
The door opened, and Jinjoo saw her father appear with a young man she recognized as Mr. Pak from their watch store. This time Jinjoo knew what it was she saw on her father’s hands. Blood.
She stood paralyzed in the hallway.
“Those dirty commie bastards.” It was Mr. Pak speaking.
Everyone was quiet, just staring anxiously at the men. Jinjoo could barely breathe. Something terrible had happened, but what?
Gomo sat up and stared at Jinjoo’s father. “Did you move them? Did you move my son? My poor son? Did you move him out of the cold street?”
Her father nodded, and she collapsed to the floor again. “They killed my son! They killed him! They dragged him out of bed with his pregnant wife and they killed them in front of me! They shot them down like animals! They aimed at her swollen belly! They killed that poor baby! They killed my grandchild!”
Jinjoo shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. Gomo’s daughter-in-law was nine months pregnant with their first child. Gomo had been so sure that it would be a son.
“You’re lucky they didn’t kill you too!” another aunt was telling Gomo.
Gomo reared up and shoved her away. “They should have just killed me! I’m dead already! They took everything away from me!”
Jinjoo didn’t even realize she’d made a sound until she saw her aunt’s wild eyes light upon her.
“Jinjoo-ya! Jinjoo-ya!” Gomo started wailing. She opened her arms and Jinjoo felt compelled to run to her.
Gomo hugged her so tight Jinjoo could hardly breathe, but she didn’t complain. She knew her aunt needed to hold her. To cry over her. To let out all her grief. Her aunt held her tight and began to beat her on the back with her fists. Hugging her and hitting her and screaming the entire time. Begging for her son to come back to her.
Jinjoo began to cry also. It wasn’t that Gomo was hitting her too hard. The pain wasn’t bad, but it was the overwhelming emotion that was all too much to handle. Her mother gently pulled her from her aunt’s arms and led her out of the room. Standing in the hallway was her older sister, staring with wide eyes. Their mother pushed them into their room and tucked them back under the blankets.
“Eomma, was it the North Koreans? Are they going to kill us all?”
“No, Eunjoo,” their mother responded. “They won’t hurt children.”
“But they killed the baby,” Eunjoo replied. “They killed the baby in her stomach.”
Her mother was quiet, her face shuttered and remote in a way Jinjoo had never seen before.
“Go to sleep,” she said, and left.
Eunjoo scooted her body next to Jinjoo and huddled close.
“I was scared for you, Jinjoo. Gomo looked like a wild person. I thought she might really hurt you!” Eunjoo said. “Weren’t you frightened?”
“Yes,” Jinjoo whispered. “But not for myself. I was scared for Gomo.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gomo wasn’t herself,” Jinjoo said. “She looked broken.”
Eunjoo nodded. “What’s going to happen to her?” she asked.
In the quiet of the night, after Eunjoo had fallen asleep, Jinjoo’s mind was still racing from all that she’d witnessed. What’s going to happen to us? she wondered.
Junie
“I don’t understand, Grandma!” I’m in shock. “Why did they kill a pregnant woman?”
“To kill off the bloodline,
” Grandma replies. “So that there are no descendants to seek revenge.”
“That’s evil.”
“War is evil, Junie, never forget that.”
DURING THE THREE DAYS OF family mourning, Jinjoo and her siblings weren’t allowed to leave the house and hardly saw their parents. As the head of the family and chief mourner, Jinjoo’s father stayed at the home of the deceased with Gomo for the entire mourning period. They saw their mother only when she would come home to feed them dinner, but as usual, she left their care to the maid and stayed by her husband’s side.
Jinjoo was certain that Shinae was the worst maid in the world. Instead of taking care of them, she did almost nothing but sit around eating most of the food their mother had prepared. The fourth day was the funeral procession, and they didn’t see their parents at all. It was all very sad and frightening.
In the daytime, it was hard to believe what had happened to Gomo’s son and wife. Even though it was so recent, it felt like it was a story about a long-ago event, and the danger didn’t seem real except for a vague sense of unrest. Because she was stuck in her house, Jinjoo had no concept of what was happening in the outside world, where occupation by the Communists had become a reality. Out in their small courtyard, Jinjoo paced along the outside wall. She wondered what her friends were doing. Were they all right, or were they also stuck at home?
Sighing deeply, Jinjoo went back inside, where Eunjoo was playing peekaboo with Junha while Junsoo ran around trying to catch a fly with his hands.
“Noona, noona!” Junsoo called as he launched himself into Jinjoo’s arms. “Let’s play hide-and-seek!”
They played for an hour before Junsoo got tired and went to his room for a nap. Eunjoo had gone to bed with Junha, and both were now sleeping too. Bored, Jinjoo paced around the courtyard again. She was desperately wishing she could go out to the marketplace and look for her friends when there was a knocking on her front gate.
“Jinjoo!”
She opened the gate and saw her friends, twins Taeyoung and Taemin, waiting outside. They came in and sat on the narrow wooden porch that ran along the whole length of Jinjoo’s house.
“Jinjoo, why haven’t you come out lately?” Taeyoung asked.
“We’re in mourning,” she replied. “My gomo’s son and his wife were killed by the Communists.”
They both were shocked to hear the news.
“Wasn’t he the policeman?” Taemin asked.
Jinjoo nodded.
Taemin whistled. “I heard my parents talking about that. I didn’t know he was related to your family, Jinjoo.”
“Is your father okay?” Taeyoung asked.
“Yes, why are you asking?”
The siblings looked at each other. “There’s been a lot of rumors that all government workers and their families are being arrested.”
Jinjoo’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “But my father is a watchmaker. He’s not a government worker. Why would they arrest him?”
Taemin shook his head. “I don’t know, Jinjoo. I’m just telling you what I heard. We haven’t seen Yohan either. We thought you might know if he was all right.”
Now the vague unease Jinjoo had been feeling roiled in the pit of her stomach, as if she’d eaten too many boiled eggs. “What else did you hear?”
After they left, Jinjoo wanted desperately to find her parents. She hadn’t seen her father in four days because of the funeral rites. Was he really okay? And what had happened to Yohan? His father worked for the city government. Had he been arrested?
That night, Jinjoo stayed up late, waiting for her parents to come home. But she couldn’t stay awake long enough. Early in the morning, she snuck out of bed quietly to keep from waking her siblings. With their parents out so much, Junsoo slept next to Eunjoo, while Junha was in between his sisters.
Out in the kitchen, she saw her mother cooking rice and a seafood stew. Shinae was sitting in the corner peeling onions very slowly and yawning.
“Eomma, where’s Abeoji?”
“He is escorting your gomo and her daughter to Suwon by train,” she said. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back today.”
It was not the answer Jinjoo had hoped to hear. She’d desperately wanted to see her father to know that he really was safe.
“Why is Gomo going to Suwon?”
Her mother’s face was wrinkled with concern. “It’s not safe for her to stay here because of what happened to her son.”
“What about Abeoji? Is he safe?”
“What kind of question is that?” her mother snapped. “Of course he’s safe. He’s just escorting your gomo because she’s too upset to go by herself. He’ll be perfectly fine. Don’t question that! You know better than to air such thoughts.”
This was a superstition of her mother’s. Never to say bad things out loud just in case evil spirits might hear and make them come true.
“I’m sorry. I just was worried because I haven’t seen him for so long.”
Her mother was silent, just focusing on cooking. Jinjoo shifted from one foot to the other as the silence extended.
“Eomma, do I still have to stay home, or can I go see my friends?”
Her mother hesitated. “Don’t go far, and come home in an hour.”
Relieved to be let out, Jinjoo agreed and raced out of their gate. She was heading to Yohan’s house, which was only a ten-minute walk from hers. Yohan’s family lived in a nice house with black lacquered double doors that Jinjoo had always admired. She arrived to find the doors broken and hanging off their hinges. Inside their large courtyard, the belongings had been thrown into a pile and destroyed.
“Oh, no,” Jinjoo breathed. “Yohan, are you there? Yohan?”
She stood at the doorway, horrified by the mess. What had happened here? Where was Yohan? She was so afraid that they’d been hurt or worse.
“Hey, little girl, are you looking for the Pak family?”
Jinjoo whirled around to find an old grandma looking at her from the street.
“I’m looking for my friend who lives here,” she said. “Do you know what happened?”
The old woman nodded. “They were lucky. They got out before the Reds came for them.”
“They got away?” Jinjoo asked.
“As far as I know,” the old woman said. “They snuck out late at night, right before the Reds came into this neighborhood looking for them.”
Jinjoo thanked the lady and slowly headed home. She was both relieved and sad. She hoped Yohan and his entire family had been able to escape. But she was sad not to have seen her friend before he left.
On the way home, she passed by Main Street and was shocked to see it filled with North Korean soldiers. Some drove by in jeeps and trucks while others patrolled the streets.
The world had changed so drastically in only a few days. This was why all the foreigners had been trying to get on the boats. They had known what was coming.
Junie
“Grandma, did you ever see Yohan or your other friends again?”
She nods. “Taeyoung and Taemin never left Incheon. I saw them both again when I went to college. And Yohan attended Seoul University medical school and became a very successful doctor.”
I let out the breath I was holding, relieved to hear her friends had survived the war.
IT HAD BEEN SIX DAYS since their father had gone to Suwon. Every day their mother would go out looking for him. Every night she’d come home and cry herself to sleep. Today her mother had just heard rumors that fifty people had been killed by the Communists at the police station. Their mother became frantic. She ordered Shinae to go with her to the police station, but the girl refused, saying she was terrified of dead bodies. Jinjoo’s mother began to beat on her chest and wail in hysterics.
“Eomma, don’t cry. I’ll go with you,” Jinjoo said. At the moment, she was more frightened by her mother’s behavior than by dead people.
At her words, Jinjoo’s mother calmed down. They walked through the Chinatown area where the p
olice station was. The entire time, Jinjoo’s mother didn’t say a word. When they arrived near the vicinity of the police station, they heard the wailing first. On the wide dirt road in front of the station, there was a row of bodies covered by dirty straw mats. Several women were weeping over them.
Jinjoo’s mom rushed over to the bodies and began pulling up the mats and checking the faces. Jinjoo was horrified. She’d never seen a dead body before, let alone so many. She shuddered and shut her eyes. But the images were seared into her memory. The bodies were covered in blood, some with faces bashed in. They ranged in age from old to young. Nobody she recognized, but it was still too much for her. She just wanted to go home.
She opened her eyes and saw her mother still looking at the dead bodies. The straw mat that was covering the dead body next to her had slipped, leaving the face exposed. Jinjoo wanted to cry. She wanted to run to her mother, but she was frozen in place.
“Eomma!” she cried out. “Eomma!”
“I’m sorry, Jinjoo. I shouldn’t have brought you here,” her mother said. Taking her hand, she led her away.
“Abeoji’s not there, right?” Jinjoo sobbed.
“No, he’s not. But I have to find out where he is.”
They went into the police station, which was now full of North Korean soldiers. There was a crowd of people, mostly women and old men, standing in front of the desk officer. They were all asking about what had happened to someone they were looking for. Jinjoo’s mother joined the queue but quickly shoved her way to the front. Pushed by the other people in the crowd, Jinjoo was forced to let go of her mother’s hand and fell to the floor. Before she was trampled, a man helped her up and pulled her away to the far side of the room.
“What are you doing here, little kid? You could have gotten really hurt.”
Jinjoo bowed deeply and thanked the man and then noticed that he was a North Korean soldier. He looked very young, not much older than Shinae eonni. But he had a kind face.
“Are you okay?”
Jinjoo nodded.
“Where are your parents?” he asked.