From Wonso Pond

by Kang Kyong-ae

  Driven by an unconscious urge, they huddled around the millet, then scooped up handfuls of the hulled grain to examine it closely, and placed a few grains in their mouths to taste.

  The millet they had harvested and paid to Tokho the previous fall had a mellow flavor, like well-ripened chestnuts or dates, and they could actually roll the individual grains around on their tongues. But this millet, wherever it came from, had a coarse texture, as though it had been half mixed with chaff—it felt like they were chewing on the empty husks of grain.

  The farmers had been thrilled to know they’d be able to receive grain, even on such outrageous terms. But now they were being cheated, and they knew there was no place they could make an appeal. The injustice of it all came to them in an overwhelming rush of feeling.

  Yu Sobang looked at the farmers, who were exchanging desperate glances. “Well, come on, grab your bowls and make a single line.”

  Only then did the farmers pull themselves together and line up single file to collect their grain.

  That sound of millet flowing from the scoop into their sacks! Had it been a stone crashing onto their chests, could it have been any less painful?

  His mind having wandered this far, Little Buddha now let out a deep sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked absentmindedly at the millet stems, which he had cared for with as much love as he would his own children. He felt the urge now to simply walk away—wherever his legs would take him—and to leave his hoe right there where he had tossed it.

  “Come on. Let’s have another song!” Yu Sobang tried to break the silence. But Little Buddha remembered that it had been Yu Sobang himself who had doled out that millet half mixed with chaff.

  “Hey . . .” Little Buddha started to shout at Yu Sobang, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He stood there staring blankly at the man.

  They weeded the row assigned to them, then turned back to start another. This one was overrun by more arid thistle than the other. The ground between the thistle was dotted white with shepherd’s purse flowers. Sourstem jumped to his feet and looked up at the sun to estimate their progress.

  “I wonder if we can get all this weeded before sunset,” he mumbled.

  “Are you crazy? There’s no way we can finish by sunset.” Little Buddha looked up as he spoke to Sourstem.

  “Come on, let’s hear another song.”

  Ch’otchae looked over at them. Squatting on the ground, Sourstem began singing a field song: I’ll follow you, my dear, I’ll follow you

  I’ll follow you, my love

  Though I drag my lame leg behind me

  I’ll follow you, my love

  “Now that’s more like it!” Earthworm cried.

  “Hey, guys,” Little Buddha jumped to his feet. “Who’s that?”

  20

  They all looked up at the same time. Coming right toward them was a man in a suit and a girl wearing high-heeled shoes. Burning with curiosity, they sprang to their feet.

  “Come on, boys, that’s Okchom, Master’s daughter,”said Yu Sobang.

  “No way! That’s Okchom? I heard she went to study in Seoul. What’s she doing back here?”

  “She said she wasn’t feeling so good.”

  “So who’s that in the suit?”

  “Beats me!” Yu Sobang replied after a while.

  “Looks like she went off to Seoul and caught a man for herself.”

  With this, Little Buddha plopped himself down on the embankment at the side of the road.

  “Shit! Some men have all the luck. Pretty girls, money, you name it. The rest of us are stuck lonely and broke until the day we die.”

  Little Buddha took some dried motherwort out of his pocket. He placed it into a piece of newsprint, rolled it up, and after sealing it with spit began to smoke it. He watched as Okchom and the man in the suit gradually approached them.

  The two of them glanced at the farmers as they passed by. Okchom’s face was now turned toward the man. Whatever it was they were talking about, they both seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  “Boy, she’s something else, isn’t she?” said Little Buddha, tossing away his cigarette butt once the two had walked off into the distance. He grabbed his hoe and started weeding again.

  Shortly afterwards Earthworm gave Little Buddha a playful whack.

  “Sounds like you’re hankering to find a bride.”

  “You bet I am. Got anyone in mind for me?”

  Earthworm, remembering something, called, “Hey, Yu Sobang. Sonbi’s living over at Tokho’s, right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “They thinking about getting her married?”

  “Well, I guess they are!”

  Sourstem winked at Little Buddha. “Yu Sobang has no idea. How’s he supposed to know anything?” he said, while Yu Sobang pretended not to listen.

  Ch’otchae, for his part, flashed his eyes wide open when he heard what they were talking about, but heaved a deep sigh. Little Buddha, more interested than ever, looked back at Earthworm.

  “Hey, set something up for me, how about it?”

  “Don’t look at me. You’re going to have to ask Tokho about that.”

  “That’s what I mean, stupid. I want you to talk to Tokho on my behalf.”

  “And you think he’ll listen to me?”

  “Sonbi’s pretty, you know, but she’s got a good heart too . . . I’m telling you, she’s the best.”

  Yu Sobang pictured Sonbi in his mind as he thought about what Sourstem had just said. Ch’otchae too, if it hadn’t been for the others, would have drilled Yu Sobang with questions about Sonbi.

  The men kept weeding in the fields as they continued their small talk, and when the sun finally set over the horizon, they all returned to the village proper.

  Ch’otchae ate dinner at home, but went right outside again. For some reason it was too frustrating to sit inside—he simply couldn’t bear it. He strolled around the village aimlessly. He pulled out a motherwort cigarette he had bummed off Little Buddha and lit it up. He took a deep drag on it, but choked on the smoke, which had none of the fragrant flavor of real tabacco. He flung the thing far away from him.

  “How can anyone call that a cigarette!” he grumbled, and looked up to find himself behind the fence surrounding Tokho’s house. He’d made a habit recently of taking a walk around the house every night. If he was lucky, he might someday see Sonbi, he thought. But so far he’d never once seen her near this house. Even so, he always walked here after dinner, hoping that tonight might be the night.

  The stars hung here and there in the jet-black sky. The wind picked up and carried the faint scent of mugwort mosquito incense toward him. He let his thoughts drift, gazing at nothing in particular, and resting his hands firmly on his hips.

  From Tokho’s house came the faint sound of people talking, though he couldn’t make out the words or the voices. Still, he could hear the sound of a man and woman laughing as clearly as he saw the stars right there above him.

  After standing like this for a while, lost in thought, he remembered the motherwort cigarette he’d thrown to the ground. He searched his pockets, but found nothing. Smacking his lips a few times, he plopped himself down in the grassy field. The ground felt cold, helping to cool off the burning inside him. Just then he heard the sound of footsteps coming his way, and his eyes opened like a cat’s in the dark.

  21

  The approaching footsteps stopped short, and he could hear the rustling sound of someone standing up closely against the reed fence. The way she caught her breath gave him the assurance that this was a woman.

  He grew more curious, and his heart began to race: Could this be Sonbi? He inched backward slowly, so as not to let her know he was there.

  The sound of the footsteps moved even closer toward him, then stopped. Whoever it was heaved a deep sigh, and stood still for a while as though she were lost in thought. Ch’otchae was finally able to make out clearly the height and shape of her body in the darkness, and his h
unch that this girl was in fact Sonbi gradually deepened. When the thought struck him that he was almost face to face with his beloved Sonbi—with only a few footsteps separating them—he took several steps forward. But having heard him move, she ran off in fright. Ch’otchae chased after her. He would finish what he’d already started.

  Knowing that she was no match for her pursuer, however, the girl slipped inside one of the houses in the village. Ch’otchae had no choice but to hide beside a woodpile and suffer an agonizing wait for her to come back outside. After some time had passed, the girl still hadn’t emerged. He started doubting himself: Maybe it wasn’t Sonbi after all. But then who else was it? Who could have been standing outside, peeking into Tokho’s house at this time of night? He closed his eyes and thought about it for a while, but no one in particular came to mind. He wanted so badly to believe it was Sonbi. He’d stay up all night if only he could meet her and share even one or two of the feelings that he’d kept locked in his heart over the years.

  What would he say to Sonbi now if he met her? he asked himself. He couldn’t seem to find a reply. Though his heart seemed ready to explode with everything he wanted to tell her, now that he tried to put it into words, he drew a complete blank. How about: Will you live with me? No, that wouldn’t work. What about: Do you know who I am? “No, no,” he said, shaking his head and cracking a smile. As he came up with different things to say, he never once took his eyes off the door.

  He heard more footsteps coming toward him, and it seemed as though someone was passing in front of the house. He held his breath and squatted to the ground. Out of the blue, just as the footsteps came to a stop, he heard the sound of squirting and a stream of liquid shot down onto his face. Only as he moved out of the way, did he realize what it was—urine. Instantly, he jumped to his feet and came forward.

  “Hey, you idiot. Where the hell do you think you’re taking a piss?”

  At the unexpected sound of someone’s voice, the stranger jumped back in surprise, pulled up his pants, and backed out of the way.

  “Who’s that?”

  Ch’otchae knew exactly who it was from the sound of his voice.

  “Watch where you take a piss, will you!”

  Only now did Kaettong figure out it was Ch’otchae.

  “Well, what the hell were you standing there for?”

  Ch’otchae had nothing to say for himself. He fumbled for the right words. Kaettong moved toward him.

  “I was just at your house.”

  “What for?”

  “I wanted to see if you’d help weed our fields tomorrow.”

  “Well, I already promised Myonggu I’d help him.”

  “Myonggu? Damn it. I really need one more guy to help me . . .”

  Just then the door rattled open, and out came a hand-held lantern. The two of them stared at it in silence.

  “Be careful. It’s dark out there,” said Kaettong’s mother.

  “I will,” came a young woman’s reply.

  Ch’otchae wondered if this might be Sonbi’s voice. If it hadn’t been for Kaettong, he’d have chased right after the girl. But that option being out of the question now, he hesitated as to what he should do. The lantern was playing hide and seek with his eyes, flickering in and out of sight, as though it was laughing at him, ridiculing him. Ch’otchae took a step forward, his heart in his throat. Just then Kaettong asked,

  “Ma, who was that?”

  “Goodness . . . What are you doing out here?”

  Kaettong’s mother came in their direction.

  “That was Kannan, wasn’t it? What’s she doing over here at this time of night?”

  “Kannan?” shouted Ch’otchae suddenly in surprise. Kaettong’s mother stopped in her tracks.

  “Hey, who’s that?”

  “It’s just me.”

  “. . . Oh, Ch’otchae?”

  “Ma, why did Kannan come over to our house?”

  “Good question . . . Maybe Tokho sent her over.”

  Ch’otchae, for his part, was still staring out blankly at the hand lantern disappearing into the distance. Then he trudged off once again, wiping away more of the urine from his temple.

  22

  Ch’otchae walked around aimlessly, and then, with one last spin around Tokho’s house, finally made his way home.

  He didn’t want to go back inside though, and after walking circles in the front yard for a while, he plopped down beside the woodpile. The scent of rotting wood hit him, and he thought about how Kaettong had just pissed on him. Then he felt an indescribable rush of the anger pent up inside of him.

  Leaning against the woodpile, he asked himself why he’d never even once been able to meet that damn girl. Is she sick, or something? he wondered, as a huge, bright star shot through the sky above him, dragging a long tail before disappearing into the darkness. As he stared vacantly into the spot where the star had disappeared, the black mole on Sonbi’s brow entered his mind. That shiny black mole! Standing out on her perfect, glowing face. It was just like that shooting star, vanishing without a trace. He sighed deeply and shut his eyes tight. The tighter he squeezed, the more clearly he could see that black mole. Damn that girl! he said, jumping to his feet. Then he heard yet another set of footsteps coming toward him. This finally set off his temper.

  “Who’s that!” he shouted crossly.

  “Is that you, Ch’otchae? I’ve been looking high and low for you. And you were here the whole time? What are you doing over here?”

  Fighting for breath, Yi Sobang came to Ch’otchae’s side, took his hand, and led him into the house. Ch’otchae tried to suppress his anger, but his nostrils were still flaring.

  “Ch’otchae!” Yi Sobang moved closer to the boy’s side. Ch’otchae lay on the floor not wanting to be bothered. Yi Sobang placed his hand on Ch’otchae’s forehead.

  “Something’s hounding you, my boy, isn’t it?”

  Ch’otchae pictured Sonbi in his mind’s eye and tried to shake off Yi Sobang’s hand. He rolled onto his side, refusing the man’s gesture. After some time, Yi Sobang spoke again.

  “You asleep?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me why you’ve been up and about at night.”

  “Because I can’t fall asleep.”

  “Well, why can’t you fall asleep?”

  He wanted to say something, but his lips remained tightly sealed.

  “Come on Ch’otchae, you don’t have to hide anything from me. Just tell me what’s getting at you, and I’ll do my best to help.”

  Yi Sobang suspected that Ch’otchae was losing sleep over a girl, but he didn’t know for sure who she was. He hoped he could find out who, so that he could try to make things happen. If he let things take their natural course, Ch’otchae might get sick before long, or even worse, end up causing a major incident.

  Ch’otchae had been quiet for some time now. Yi Sobang moved up close to him and lay down by his side.

  “You’ve got a girl on your mind, don’t you, Ch’otchae?”

  At the word “girl” Ch’otchae’s face flushed and Sonbi’s delicate figure floated before his eyes. Ch’otchae rolled to his side again.

  “Good night, Yi Sobang.”

  Knowing that the boy wasn’t ready to talk, Yi Sobang decided to bring up the subject again on another day, and went to sleep.

  Ch’otchae, however, did not sleep a wink. His mind ran in this and that direction all night long. As dawn broke the next morning, he finally sat up in bed, at the sound of a door in the inner room slowly opening. Shit! Another bastard spent the night here, thought Ch’otchae. He resented to no end what his mother was still doing—despite the fact she now had a full-grown son.

  “Have a safe walk back home.”

  “Okay.”

  “When can you come again?”

  “We’ll see.”

  The man whispering to his mother was Yu Sobang, the man who worked for Tokho. And yet, Ch’otchae was actually glad to hear his voice. He jumped to his feet. As
he opened the door to the room, Yi Sobang stopped him.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  Yi Sobang had gotten out of bed and grabbed the seat of Ch’otchae’s pants. He’d been afraid that Ch’otchae might run out of the room and do something reckless.

  By this time Ch’otchae’s mother had softly shut the gate behind her and was coming back inside.

  “Mom!”

  Normally Ch’otchae would have still been asleep at this hour, so his voice startled his mother, who stopped short. Afraid he might spring at her in a rage, she took a few steps back unsteadily.

  Yi Sobang did not know how to ease the tension between mother and son, but he stood there trying to think of something. Ch’otchae, meanwhile, glared at his mother through the door, but without saying a single word slammed it shut and collapsed onto the floor. Only now could Yi Sobang sit down too.

  23

  Okchom had followed Sinch’ol to Monggŭmp’o for a vacation on the beach, then brought him back home for a proper visit. And although Sinch’ol had been planning to catch the morning train bound for Seoul today, Okchom’s powers of persuasion continued to pay off—at least in her mind—for she’d once again managed to keep Sinch’ol from leaving. But it was less on account of Okchom’s charms than in response to Tokho’s adamant protestations that Sinch’ol had agreed to delay his departure. Truth be told, there was also something else about this household that had, for reasons beyond his control, made it difficult for Sinch’ol to leave.

  It had not been a simple matter of staying as a guest in someone’s house for a single day or two—indeed, he had been there for over a month already. And it was only because of his guilty conscience that he had originally decided to go back to Seoul. But Okchom was beaming now, and her eyes soaked in Sinch’ol’s masculine physique.

  “Shall we walk to the melon hut?”

  “ Well . . . Maybe it’s not such a good idea for us to go alone.”