Her eyes bulged in determination. But she realized in the next moment that she would never get to touch even a single hair on Myongsu’s head again, and the sad thought made her hunch over.
It was a silent night. The silence weighed heavily on her heart, threatening to crush it. But she could smell roasting sweet potatoes! It was the season after all. She looked about, trying to find the source of the smell. If only she could have a warm sweet potato … Hmph! How ridiculous of her to want to eat something, to go on living! She leaned on a wall and stared up at the sky. The moon floated high above, and the stars twinkled. Some twinkled like Bongyeom’s eyes, others twinkled like Bonghee’s eyes. And there were ones like the clear eyes of little Myoungsu. The eyes she would gaze into as she massaged her breast.
‘No, get away from me!’
She banished the memory again. She thought of Bonghee and Bongyeom’s eyes, swollen from crying and missing their mother. She would never see those eyes again!
She visited the cemetery. There were countless graves spread out before her. She did not like this. She shivered with cold fear as if she were drowning in a roaring torrent. She was afraid of remembering Myoungsu’s moon-like face again. She thought of death, thought about how frightening it really was, and gazed into the distance. Suddenly, she broke into a run as if she had been startled by something.
The moonlight shining like snowfall between the awnings of two distant houses had reminded her of the white blanket Myoungsu would be lying on right now as he called for her. But it was only the moonlight after all, which struck her face like a slap. She held her cheeks as she stepped into the light, and restrained herself from crying out, ‘Oh, Myoungsu!’ by staring up at the utterly unperturbed moon. Love was such a shameful thing!
She stared down at her shadow and pondered whether she should live or die. She felt that dying and forgetting everything that had happened to her was the last happiness she had left in this world. Her body felt so heavy that death seemed the only way to rid her of its weight. How should she die? Caustic soda … No, that melted the organs, it would be too painful … Jumping into the river… She imagined the swirling blue currents and it scared her. She shivered and leaned against a wall. No, she would live as long as she was able. Then she would be reunited with Bongshik and watch those bastard communists die by their own swords. They would never prosper, not when God watched over all. Let’s see how well they do. She gritted her teeth. She heard the sound of footsteps and thought it must be the landlord’s wife, coming for round two. She turned her head towards the room, but heard a voice coming from the opposite direction.
‘Why are you standing here?’
She turned around and was glad to see Yong-ae’s mother. She must be bringing news from Myoungsu’s family. ‘Have you seen Myoungsu?’
‘Myoungsu? In the morning, for a moment.’
‘Does he cry? He must be crying all the time!’
Young-ae’s mother gave her a sympathetic look and thought of how Myoungsu had indeed thrown a tantrum that morning. She could tell immediately how much Bongyeom’s mother wanted to see Myoungsu.
‘I heard you went to their house yesterday.’
‘Yes, that woman, that horrible woman wouldn’t let me see him! Huh! That useless bitch.’
Yong-ae’s mother hesitated before saying, ‘Don’t go there anymore. I don’t know how she found out, but she was livid that your daughters died of typhoid. You shouldn’t go.’
Bongyeom’s mother felt a wave of resentment at her friend. ‘Typhoid! What typhoid? My children are dead, anyway. What is the use of crying over someone else’s child? So what if I never see Myoungsu again! It’s not like I would die!’
She was shouting as if Myoungsu’s mother was standing before her. Yong-ae’s mother tried to calm her down. ‘Enough talk about this. Have you had your supper?’
Young-ae’s mother, crouched down with her skirt wrapped around her legs, smelled faintly of herring. It suddenly occurred to Bongyeom’s mother that her hunger was making everything feel even worse. She asked Yong-ae’s mother for some leftovers, if she had any.
‘You’ve starved all day,’ said Yong-ae’s mother, ‘and I knew you would. I was just about to bring you something. Wait inside, I’ll be right back.’
Yong-ae’s mother stood up and left. Bongyeom’s mother, so hungry that the lower half of her body felt like it was about to break off, crept back into the house.
Yong-ae’s mother returned. ‘Come, try this. Get yourself together. You’ve got to figure out how you’re going to live from now on … Do you know what you might do?’
Bongyeom’s mother stopped her hasty eating and stared at her.
‘I might have something for you,’ Yong-ae’s mother went on. ‘It’s good work, lots of profit. My husband just left to do it himself.’
‘What kind of work?’
Yong-ae’s mother lowered her voice. ‘Selling salt.’
Bongyeom’s mother’s eyes grew wide. ‘But what if you get caught?’
‘You have to be ever so clever. Making money isn’t easy, after all.’ Despite her resigned words, Yong-ae’s mother became worried again about her husband. They sat in silence for a while.
‘Anyway, you should try it too, when you’ve got your strength back. In Korea, salt is thirty jeon for one mal, but here, it’s two won and thirty jeon! Think of the profit.’
The prospect of work breathed new life into Bongyeom’s mother, but her spirits deflated once she remembered her dead daughters. Others were smuggling salt for the sake of feeding their sons and daughters but for whom was she struggling? When she realized it was for herself alone, she was awash with melancholy. Still, if she did not try with all her might to live, who would so much as lift a spoonful of rice-wash water to her lips? Starving scared her more than dying. It was harder to bear. Was she not despondent before she ate, and so different now that she had something in her stomach? Was not the air that seemed to press down on her chest much lighter for it? In this life, one absolutely had to eat … She remembered the leek she tried to chew when she gave birth to Bonghee in the Chinese family’s shed. The memory made her shudder. She had to acknowledge that despite her suffering during her time with Myoungsu’s family, at least she had never gone hungry. She thought of Myoungsu’s face again and wondered whether his constant crying would convince Myoungsu’s mother to take her back. She put down her spoon.
‘What, finished already? Have some more. You’ve got to get your strength up.’
‘My strength … such is a person’s greed … my husband is dead, my son, daughters …’ Her voice trembled as she stared towards the door. Her face looked so gaunt in the moonlight that Yong-ae’s mother sighed.
‘If you can’t die, then you should at least keep your strength up. Don’t even think about the past.’ Yong-ae’s mother approached her and began tidying up her hair. This reminded Bongyeom’s mother of Myoungsu’s fat little baby hand grabbing at her, and her calmed heart suddenly beat wildly again. She unconsciously grabbed Yong-ae’s mother’s hand.
‘Do you think Myoungsu is asleep right now?’
Then, she buried her face in Yong-ae’s mother’s lap and cried loudly. Yong-ae’s mother also shed a tear or two at her friend’s distress.
‘Don’t cry. Don’t think about other people’s babies! There’s no use.’
‘If I could see him just once … Could you take me there? Please, my friend.’ She was convinced she would be allowed to see Myoungsu if her friend accompanied her.
Yong-ae’s mother felt uncomfortable, thinking of the curses Bongyeom’s mother had shouted about her former employer only a moment ago. She did not answer. Bongyeom’s mother leapt to her feet and grabbed Yong-ae’s mother’s hand, urging her up.
‘Look here, you must calm yourself! We’ll go to see them tomorrow.’ Yong-ae’s mother sat her back down.
The
moonlight continued to illuminate their faces.
Smuggler
The autumn of the northern country was bleak. On a night when the wind blew as loudly as thunder, Bongyeom’s mother put four mal of salt into her sack and followed the others. They were a group of six, and Bongyeom’s mother was the only woman. The ageing tracker who headed the group had smuggled salt for the past ten years and was able to find the route with his eyes closed. The rest of the group had to be completely obedient to him. They had to maintain absolute silence during the time they carried the salt, even if that meant days with only gestures to communicate with each other.
They walked in a line through the unrelenting wind, paying close attention to the person in front of them. Sometimes, the wind sounded like footsteps or the shouting of a policeman, which made them hold their breath. They would remember rumours about a smuggler being shot on this very route the day before. The dread blackened their hearts to the very shade of the darkness that surrounded them.
The others wore padded clothes, but Bongyeom’s mother wore layers and rubber shoes her toes protruded out of. The weight of the salt carried on her head banished all thoughts of the cold. It was like being hit on the top of her skull by a steel pipe, and sometimes as painful as carrying a ball of flame. She had taken on six mal of salt at first like the others, but the men had managed to convince her that it would be too much. Now, not even ten li into their journey, her head already hurt. She grimaced and tried to lift the load slightly with her hands, but it was no use, and now her arms felt like they would fall off from fatigue. She was seized with a compulsion to throw down her load and just die there in the middle of the route. But that was just a feeling. Her feet continued to follow the men. If only she could carry as much as the men … Perhaps she would be able to if she used her back instead of her head … But she would need rope, and there was none … How about resting for a while? She almost said the last part out loud but bit down on her words. Her hands continued to try to lift the sacks and sooth her pain.
Her forehead and back sweated so much that she could feel wetness on the soles of her feet. Her shoes were so soaked in sweat she was afraid she might slip and fall. She had to concentrate on not stumbling, which made her fall further behind the others. Running after them made her lose her breath, and her side would hurt. She should have taken on just two mal … Should she spill it? Should she? Gripping the sacks in her hands, she knew she could not do it.
Soon, she heard the sound of the river. It soothed her heart. They could put down their salt and rest for a moment and drink all the water they wanted. But what if something lurked on the other side of the river? Her anxiety grew with the increasing sound of the water. Even this happy sound had turned into needles prickling her eardrum. She felt she would die of exhaustion soon. Then, the man walking in front of her stood still, and she stopped, too. The sound of insects mixed with the sound of the water. The man in front of her seemed to have sat down. She also dropped her salt sack and collapsed. Then, she forced her eyes closed; they had been opened wide from her exertions. At the same time, she kept an ear out on the men lest she be left behind.
Now that the immediate pain had subsided, her whole body trembled from exhaustion. Just as she leaned forward, hugging her stomach, the man in front of her gave her a poke. She quickly got up. The sound of the men taking off their clothes made her more nervous than ever. She hesitated for a moment before taking off her own clothes and making them into a bundle to tie around her neck. Rubbing her neck, she wondered if her head would still be attached to her body by the time they reached Longjing. She hoisted the salt on her head again and began to walk.
The splashing sound made her think the men in the front had entered the water. She felt her feet touch sand and soon she was in the river. The water was a cold, rushing black void, its sound so loud it filled her ears. The water lapped about her, and she felt her hair stand on end from the icy cold. She took a deep breath, close to a sob.
The deeper the water became, the rougher the ground got beneath her feet, from sand to pebbles to large stones. Their slick surface made her mind go white with fear every time she almost slipped. The water came up to her breasts now.
Just then, her foot slipped, and her body fired up as she tried with all her might not to let the salt drop from her head. Her foot kept slipping, and her legs were getting wider and wider apart. She wanted to shout to the men in front of her for help, but she was too out of breath, and something in her chest blocked her voice. The tiny yelp that slipped out was drowned by the wind and the gushing of the water. She used her last remaining strength to keep her left foot steady. All thoughts of death or fear were distant from her mind; the thought of the salt dropping into the water and melting kept her ramrod straight from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.
The men had almost reached the other side of the river when they realized Bongyeom’s mother was not behind them. The tracker had to retrace their steps, and luckily, he found her. The tracker knew that if he had arrived even a moment later, the woman would have perished. He steadied her with his hand and shouldered her burden of salt. Prodding the riverbed, he found the rock that she had almost slipped on and wondered why she had gone that way when he had taken care to go around it. He gripped her hand as they made their way to the others.
Bongyeom’s mother regained her wits bit by bit as they continued to walk. She was still dizzy and wanted to vomit, but the salt was still on her head, so she gritted her teeth to keep it in.
When the two finally reached the riverbank, the others waiting all stood up and embraced them both. A few of them even shed quiet tears. As pitiful as their own lives were, somehow the life of this poor woman was even more unfortunate. They also sighed as they thought of their wives, children, and parents who were waiting for them, sleepless, hungry, and worrying.
The night was too fearful for them to rest long, and soon they were off. This time, they put Bongyeom’s mother in the middle of the line. They seemed to be walking in an irrigation ditch as dried stalks cut her feet through the torn soles of her shoes. Several times she had wanted to take off her shoes, but she could not bear to throw them away. She always had trouble making decisions. Even now, she hesitated. Her shoes were so ripped that the soles kept getting caught in the millet and sorghum roots, but she still could not throw them away.
Then, when they reached the summit of the hill, they heard a loud voice shout, ‘Who is that? Freeze, with your hands up! Or we’ll shoot!’
A blue light flashed in their faces. The group shielded their eyes with their hands as if the light was a sharp blade or a bullet flying towards them. We’re going to lose our salt! They despaired at this shared thought. They hoped the people with the light were communists or bandits; these were the two groups who were not interested in salt and would let them go if they begged them.
Their bodies were searched. The light went off and there was some low-voiced talking. The darkness made the woman shiver all over again, and she wondered if they were being threatened with swords or guns in the dark.
Then, a voice spoke from the shadows.
‘Comrades! Do you know why you are forced to smuggle salt under cover of darkness?’
The steely voice boomed as it spoke on through the surging of the wind. They were communists! Their salt was safe. The woman thought of ways she might beg them to let them be on their way. The voice continued to speak. She wished they would stop speaking and just let them go. She was worried there were patrols that would hear the communists’ speech in the hills ahead. The voice reminded her of a speech that she had heard when she visited Bongyeom’s school; it had been delivered by her daughter’s teacher. She raised her head and tried to see who was speaking, but all she could see was pitch blackness. She wondered if her Bongshik was among them. No, her clever boy would never be stupid enough to join such a gang. Now that she had been reassured about her son, she began to wonder if their tal
k was a ploy to steal their salt.
The voice in the dark finished talking and even bade them good luck on their way. The smugglers began walking again. The woman hurried, afraid they would be followed by guns and swords regardless of the words they had just heard. Only when they came down the hill and into a field did she manage to give out a sigh of relief.
They really had been communists! She thought of herself as the most pitiful person in the world, to quake in her shoes before them like that. They killed her husband and ruined her life, but she could not say a word as she faced her greatest enemy! She could barely muster the courage to even think of her hatred before them! Even she, the most pathetic creature, was carrying salt to save her own life. She realized then, the more stupid and pitiful a creature, the more it strove to save itself. Her only question was: why had not the communists taken the salt from them? When they kill people like flies … Now she had no trouble cursing them in her mind.
During the following days, they hid in the mountains or among reeds and reached Longjing only on the fourth night. Bongyeom’s mother did not know where to hide her salt, but after a long hesitation, she put it in a box and shoved the box into a corner. She collapsed on the floor. The room had a draught and the floor was like ice. She rubbed her head and feet and broke into loud sobs. Having returned home, she was confronted again with the memories of Bongyeom, Bonghee, and Myoungsu. She cried for a long time and twisted in agony thinking of everything she had gone through in the past four days. She realized that even the tears she was shedding now were a luxury. She calmed herself and lay down, thinking of how she was going to sell the salt. The others would have sold theirs by now, but who would come to buy from her? No one knew she had salt yet, should she go around the houses and tell them? What if she met a policeman on the way? She tried to stand again but cried out as her legs gave way beneath her. She stayed still for a long time before making her way to the box.
The Underground Village Page 6