The Underground Village

by Kang Kyeong-ae

  ‘I wonder what time it is?’ she wondered aloud, standing up.

  ‘It’s probably very late.’

  They left the gazebo and entered the dark wood together.

  *

  A few days later, Heesook and her comrades were hired as temporary women clerks and were put to work in the ‘barracks’ right on the racecourse selling tickets and serving tea.

  They had managed to begin working there with great courage, but carrying a tray of tea things in front of guests was so embarrassing that they blushed so severely they could hardly hold up their heads. They also felt that everyone was looking at them. It was reassuring that the barracks had no windows and one could not see the racecourse. All they had to do was deal with the guests who actually entered.

  It was a rare warm spell. It smelled a little of dust and horse dung, carried in from the outside on the shoes of the guests. There were so many people talking at the same time that a large cloud of voices seemed to hover over them. The only distinguishable sound was the occasional crying of a baby, which carried over the other voices like a willow pipe.

  The buzzer rang. The guests crowded each other as they tried to buy tickets.

  Heesook and her comrades briskly carried their tea trays and went about their work, but their hearts were set on the football field nearby. Did the games begin? Which team were they up against? Had they already suffered a goal scored by the other side? They occasionally tapped their feet, anxious to hear some news.

  It was loud outside with the sound of people running back and forth. To Heesook, it sounded like the running of their players on the field. Her heart would skip, and she would stare at the walls for a long time, trying to calm herself down.

  She was glad whenever a new customer entered; they might have news of the football. But of the myriad of people who came into the room, not a single person brought up the tournament.

  The entrance where they were selling betting tickets was crowded, and the hands of the ticket sellers moved rapidly as the money came pouring in. At the sight of the bills, Heesook felt a greed she had never felt before. Just one of those bundles was enough to buy good football boots and white rice for the entire team! It could mean the difference between winning and losing. Instead, she had seen the pitiful sight of her comrades going to play in worn shoes and on a breakfast of millet. How could they even kick the ball in such a state!

  She could almost see for herself the ball being taken from their possession by stronger players wearing good football boots. She felt ashamed of her own inability to make a difference. She wanted to grab a bill bundle and make a run for it, but that was just a silly fantasy. She sighed.

  The buzzer rang again. The sound of hoofs was followed by thunderous cheering. For a moment, it sounded like cheering coming from her comrades on the football field, and her heart soared, her back breaking into a sweat.

  ‘How could they …!’

  Heesook looked up at her comrade’s exclamation of disgust. Their eyes met for a second and then they each looked away. Tears glistened in their eyes.

  The shouting in that room, the bets, the odds, the money that they kept screaming about! It shook the room. Somewhere above them, a ten won bill floated over the crowd. They stared at this scene with hate flaring up inside them.

  On the football field, their comrades were trying to bring hope to a world that seemed like it was about to end, a world where the ball, kicked high in the air, eclipsed the very sun, but these people would rather be in here! How little they cared about that ball! They felt like they were a different race. No, they were a different race!

  Heesook and her comrades spent the day performing anxious, tedious labour, before running out to the field at the end of the day.

  They saw an older woman pass by and stopped her.

  ‘What happened at the football tournament? Did the D— school do well?’

  The woman looked around them and said, ‘They lost! They put up a good fight but kept falling on the field. They probably hadn’t had enough to eat. It was too sad to watch. The other team was better fed. They were even eating on the field. But the students, all they had was water. One had a bleeding leg, one had a gash on his forehead …’

  The woman frowned and shook her head. She began to cry.

  The young students felt the energy drain from them. They stood still, unable to say anything at all.

  ‘You must have relatives in the school. I have no relatives there, but …’ The woman did not finish her sentence. She seemed to be thinking of the bleeding students again. ‘You better go, then. Go and comfort them.’

  The students were crying so hard that for a while they did not realize that the woman had walked away. When they turned to look back at her, they noticed for the first time how worn her clothes were.

  They felt a sudden surge of strength and ran to the football field. Their comrades had already left and formed a parade, headed downtown. They could hear a march being played. Heesook could see Seungho leading the way, carrying a banner. A real parade! The students being followed by the masses!

  The D— school banner was blood red in the setting afternoon sun.

  December 1933

  The Underground Village

  The sun smoulders over the line of the mountains in the west.

  Chilsung unsteadily walks past the village, his begging sack slung over his shoulder like always. His shoddy straw hat stings his forehead. It does not stop his flowing sweat or block the dust that rises like unbearable smoke beneath his nose.

  ‘Hey, he’s back!’

  ‘Hey!’

  Here come the village children with their taunts. Not these bastards again. Chilsung quickens his pace, but soon they are tugging at the tails of his tunic.

  ‘Hey, you gonna cry?’

  ‘What did you get this time? Let’s see.’

  One of them snatches away Chilsung's begging sack as the others clap with glee. Chilsung stands silent and stares at the biggest child in the gang. He knows if he tries to move away or curse aloud, it would only provoke them.

  ‘Look at the fool, all calm and nice!’

  The one with the pointy head comes at him with a fresh cowpat at the end of a stick. The others cackle as they scramble to get their own cowpats on sticks to threaten him with. It is too much. Chilsung makes a run for it.

  He raises his arms and takes a step, shaking all the while, his head jerking side to side uncontrollably. The children follow him, imitating him. They skip behind him and run in front, blocking his progress and smearing the cowpats on his face.

  Chilsung opens his eyes as wide as he can. His lips twitch as they struggle to form words.

  ‘Y-you bastards!’

  The children roll on the ground in gales of laughter as they imitate him. ‘You bastards! You bastards!’

  Chilsung spits as a child brings a cowpat against his lips. He opens his eyes wide again, trying to look as scary as possible.

  ‘Hey, idiot, stop looking at me like that!’

  It seems to work. The children retreat. Chilsung rubs his lips with his arm and looks back as they run away. He feels angry and lonely, abandoned by the whole world.

  With the children gone, the road stretches on into the gloom before curving a little at a millet field. This will lead to the cool shade of the reeds … He walks. He shakes off the dung, but some still clings to him and stains his clothes. He stares into the empty horizon as he makes his way. Soon, he reaches the foot of a hill and plops down for a rest.

  A breeze meanders through the tall grass. The sound of insects makes him think a stream is nearby. He scratches his matted hair, lost in thought. Long rays of sunlight filter through the woods near the road, and the chirping of birds rings in his ears. Why was I born a cripple so that even the most worthless of those bastards think they can mock me? He pulls at a reed growing next to him. A sha
rp pain jolts through his wrist.

  But what about Big Girl? She’s blind, but she doesn’t complain! And I’m better off than she is. He thinks of Big Girl as he gazes at the delicate hairs on the grains of the grass, soft as a puppy’s fur. He slowly remembers her face. Such lovely closed eyes, I can’t stand it! He squirms with pleasure. He looks at the begging sack next to him. I better give Big Girl the best thing I got today. But how? Hand it over the fence at night? Big Girl has to come out and stand near it. But someone has to tell her to come out to the yard. Right, I can send in Chilwoon. No, then Big Girl’s mother will know, and my mother will know. I’ll go during the day when the others are out weeding the fields and hand it over the fence. Excited, he finds himself standing up again, ready to go.

  The sun that almost flayed his skin during the day is now behind the mountains, and the chill of the wind that sweeps through the undulating grass seeps into his bones. He pats his begging sack before slinging it over his shoulder and taking a shaky step.

  The vast sky meets the ocean in the distance, and the red remnants of sunset float leisurely across the horizon. Chilsung presses his straw hat down on his head and leaves the bottom of the hill. The smell of cow dung wafts upwards with every step he takes.

  After he goes around the hill and comes to his village, his little brother Chilwoon runs out of the village entrance, carrying a baby on his back. ‘It’s you, Big Brother, I was waiting for you!’

  Chilwoon is all smiles as he comes up to Chilsung and grabs at his begging sack, eager to see what he has. ‘Did you get some biscuits again?’

  ‘N-no.’ Chilsung grips the sack to his chest and takes a step back.

  Chilwoon presses up to him. ‘Can’t I have just one? Please, Big Brother!’

  Chilwoon’s mouth waters as he holds out a filthy hand towards Chilsung. The baby on his back imitates Chilwoon, stretching out her palms towards Chilsung and looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.

  ‘Hey, s-stop it!’ Chilsung turns his back on them.

  Chilwoon almost trips as he runs in front of Chilsung. ‘Big Brother, Big Brother, just one! Give me one!’

  Chilsung gives him his scariest look. Tears glisten in Chilwoon’s eyes. ‘I’m telling Mother when she gets here! She told me that if I watched the baby while she was out in the fields, you would get candy for me! I’m telling her, I’m telling her what you did!’

  Chilwoon wipes his tears with a fist. The baby, not knowing what is going on, opens her mouth and lets out a loud cry. The darkness unfolds around them as Chilwoon, sobbing, runs towards the hill where their mother is working. ‘Mother! Mother!’

  Chilwoon’s shouting prompts the baby to shout along. ‘Momma! Momma!’

  The echoes from the mountain sound as if their mother really is answering them with a shout of, ‘What?’ Chilsung is glad to be rid of Chilwoon and Young-ae for a moment. He continues on his way.

  The neighbourhood is so dark that he can barely see in front of him, save the old cypress tree reaching up to the sky as if to touch the stars. He thinks only of how he will see Big Girl, and how he will give her the biscuits he received that day.

  ‘Is that my Chilsung?’

  It is his mother’s voice. He looks back. He cannot see her face as she approaches him, her back weighed down with kindling, but he can still feel his head being weighed down with shame. He stands up straight.

  ‘Why were you so late today?’ She had strained her eyes looking for her son on the way up the mountain from the field. Had he stumbled somewhere and was struggling to get up? Did those horrible children throw stones and kick him again? She had been about to go looking for him. His mother’s questions make Chilsung recall being smeared with cowpats. His nose begins to tickle.

  The scent of wood hits him as his mother draws closer. She carries the baby around her neck in addition to the burden on her back.

  ‘Mother, he won’t give me any biscuits!’

  Chilwoon grabs on to her skirt, and she almost falls backwards from the force. She pats the top of his head.

  ‘Th-that little bastard, I’ll k-kill you!’ Chilsung tries to kick Chilwoon. His mother almost stumbles again as she blocks him.

  ‘Don’t be like that. He’s had to take care of the little one all day. He’s got a nasty heat rash on his waist from carrying her.’

  At the end of her lament, his mother sighs. A whiff of cowpat assaults Chilsung’s nose, which makes him burst out in anger.

  ‘I-I wasn’t just sit-sitting on my ass, either!’

  ‘Chilsung, that wasn’t what I meant!’ His mother is too overcome with fatigue to continue. They walk on in silence.

  When they reach home, they collapse on top of the stack of kindling to rest. Chilsung’s mother tries to say something to make her son feel better.

  ‘So many skin rashes this year … Your hands are shaking.’

  She resists the urge to grab those hands as she caresses the baby she is holding and takes out a breast for her to suckle. Little Chilwoon keeps kicking the wood stack, huffing and puffing in anger. Chilsung cannot stand his younger siblings anymore. He stands up. His eyes sweep over the darkness as he thinks, Big Girl must be over there somewhere. He goes into the single room of the house in which Chilsung’s family all live, sits down on his toe that smarts from having kicked a rock, and empties the contents of his sack. The sound of scattering matches and grain makes his hair stand on end. He quickly runs his hands over the goods. He remembers the money, takes it out, and stares at it in his hand. He can see almost nothing in the dark room, but feels the presence of eyes embedded in the walls.

  He divides the matches, rice, and biscuits, and thinks again of Big Girl. What do I give her? One of these? He grabs a sweet, and tosses it in his mouth. There is a crunching sound and a sweet burst of saliva. He smacks his lips and freezes again in case Chilwoon is listening.

  His hand hurts from gripping the money so hard. He spreads it out and counts it and thinks about how Big Girl would love to have a measure of fabric with this money. His heart races. Why won’t she come to our house? If only she would, I could give her money and these biscuits and anything she asked for. Yes, I would. The thought makes him sad. He wraps the matches and biscuits and pushes them underneath the folded bedding, adds the money to the stash, and puts only the rice out for his mother. Then he goes up to the back door of the room and peers out at the fence separating his home and Big Girl’s.

  Bees buzz over the squash vines that twist along the fence. How to meet her? He grabs his toe without thinking and it hurts. The cool wind flows down his cheek. He feels a pain somewhere that is deeper than the hurt in his toe.

  ‘Aren’t you going to eat?’

  Chilsung gives a start. He realizes his mother is just outside the other door. He feels an inexplicable emptiness in his heart.

  ‘Why did you lock the latch?’

  His mother keeps rattling the door. As though asking for biscuits or money. A wave of resentment overtakes him.

  ‘I-I’m not hungry!’ His whole body shakes.

  ‘Did you eat something in the market?’ Her voice seems far away. She always sounds listless whenever Chilsung is angry at her. ‘Eat some more.’

  ‘N-no!’ he barks.

  His mother mumbles something as she leaves him alone, and it is calm again. Chilsung sits in the dark and keeps thinking about the biscuits he hid underneath the bedding. His hand flips over a corner of the bedding, rewarding him with puffs of stale dust and the sour smell of bedbugs. He turns his back on it, but his hand keeps sweeping over the spot where the biscuits are hidden. No! I’m giving the biscuits to Big Girl. He whips his hand away and grips the door handle.

  The breeze cools the sweat pouring from his forehead. He throws off his shirt and hugs the wind. He feels so itchy he rubs his body against a wall, which excites him and makes him rub more frantically until he is out
of breath and the skin is almost scratched off his back. He stands up.

  Now that he is moving, he feels pain in every single part of his body. It feels like his fingertips have been pierced by splinters. His elbows ache, and the toe he hurt earlier throbs more than ever. He tries to ignore the pain as he begins to walk.

  Little white flowers blink like starlight on the fence. Their scent excites him as if a girl were standing nearby. He creeps up against the fence.

  The scent from a fire burning to repel mosquitoes comes through from Big Girl’s side, and he imagines the flickering lights of the little fire as he draws his ear near, the fuzz of the squash vines tickling his cheek. The thought that Big Girl might be doing the same thing on the other side of the fence makes him blush. He stands so long that his clothes are damp with dew, and his eyes are so used to the dark that the white flowers on the fence shout out their white light.

  But after a long while, the mosquito fire dies down, and insects buzz incessantly about his head. He goes back inside in frustration.

  *

  The fields are already full of sunlight when he wakes up the next morning.

  He looks to see if his mother or Chilwoon is still home, but they are out. He sits by the back door and stares out at Big Girl’s fence again. Big Girl’s parents are in the fields, and she’ll be home alone … The village leader won’t visit today, I have to see her today… He looks down at his arm. The wrist protruding from his worn burlap sleeve is skin and bone, nothing but a wan yellow shading into blue. He sighs with sadness. It is a good thing Big Girl is blind, else her eyes would have widened at the sight of this hand, and she would have run ten li in a heartbeat just to get away from him. But if Big Girl were to hold his hand and say, ‘Why do you have no strength, what would you do with such a hand …’ He cannot bear the thought! He tries to calm his breathing. Isn’t there a medicine I can try? There must be … Dewdrops dangle fatly on the cobwebs draped over Big Girl’s fence. That might be medicine. He gets up.