FINALS.
Still,
Cheer up!( to myself and those who see the post)
2013년 7월 7일 일요일
Korean Identity. Non-Existent Concept?
‘Wow, Korean people are really good at
maths!’,
Exclaimed a friend of mine with sheer
astonishment. I enjoyed my moment of being a child prodigy after deducting with
high intelligence that two hundred and four divided by seventeen was twelve.
Memorizing multiplication as if I was reciting the names of winner in America’s
Got Talent Show, I was a walking textbook and speaking calculator. Awesomeness.
The true is, I was not so much of a prodigy back in Korea. I never was the ‘best friend’ of Maths back in Korea, and I was pretty sure it did not like me that much in return.
One interesting thing about being good at Maths in England was not only in the fact that people thought I was a Maths genius, but also in how people related my ability to being a ‘Korean’. They judged me with a yardstick not only marking my ability as an individual, but as a member of a group. It was as though my nationality was a thin layer I was born with around me, making people see through me with that glasses.
The true is, I was not so much of a prodigy back in Korea. I never was the ‘best friend’ of Maths back in Korea, and I was pretty sure it did not like me that much in return.
One interesting thing about being good at Maths in England was not only in the fact that people thought I was a Maths genius, but also in how people related my ability to being a ‘Korean’. They judged me with a yardstick not only marking my ability as an individual, but as a member of a group. It was as though my nationality was a thin layer I was born with around me, making people see through me with that glasses.
Nationality.
Especially the Korean one. It was not something that I
thought hard about, being a Korean. It was something taken for granted, like
being born with brown eyes or dots on your right cheek. It was merely one of
the groups I belonged to. It was like being a girl, being a student, being a
daughter of my parents, being a member of baseball club and so on. In a multi
layered, complicated process of forming an individual, it was yet another
layer that was added to forming myself. In abroad, t became something more
than that. I felt more ‘Korean’ than ever during my stay in England. ‘Where are
you from?’ was one of the most frequently asked question which usually followed
hellos in first meeting. It was glasses through which others saw me.
National identity itself, as most people would agree, is hard to define. It is being referred to as ‘the spirit of the people’ or ‘an attitude that the members of a nation have when they care about their nation’ or simply, ‘belonging to a nation’. However, one concept of Korean identity is simple. People find ‘sharing the same root’ a powerful factor forming Minjok(민족, 民族), its ethnic group. After all, the word itself—each Min and Jok respectively, represent ‘people’ and ‘division’. Put together, they mean people from the same division, therefore of a same branch from the same body. In that aspect, Korean identity is based on ‘sameness’ among people. As a survey conducted in 2007 in Korea also indicated, 32% of people responded ‘same ethnicity’ as the base of Korean identity. Followed by it was 22% answering ‘culture’, 19% ‘same blood’, and only 12%, the ‘five-thousand years of history’.
When the force comprising Korean identity
is somewhat ambiguous, some might even cast a doubt as to whether Korean
identity does exist or not.
 |
| Korean people gathered to mourn after the shooting |
On the other hand, after having been
abroad, I can definitely say Korean identity exists. Korean identity was a
firm platform on which I stood. It had an amazing ability of making me feel sad
or very happy toward a situation to which I was unrelated. Just because I was
not anyone else but a Korean, I rejoiced when Yu-na Kim won gold medals, when Korea
hosted winter Olympics in 2018 in PyeongChang, and was saddened when there was
the shooting incident at Virginia Tech. in 2007. Just hearing someone speaking
in Korean abroad made my head turn, looking for the source of the sound. Korean
community existing in England seemed to support the life in
England. Korean identity for me was like a bonding that I had formed with
Koreans.
"Korean bonding?"-its history
To understand the characteristics and the
essence of Korean nationalism and the concept ‘Minjok’, we have to trace back
and look into the history of our own nation and the scar it bears.
Historically, as the record reflects, Korea
was not the ‘invading’ country that had strong power over other countries. In
fact, it was quite the opposite. In our nation’s history of being invaded by
powers surrounding us, it was one of the strongest factors that shaped the
history of our nation. Although Korean identity may have existed in various
forms, the strong concept of it was brought up to the surface from Japanese colonization.
Japanese government, on trying to censor the ideas of the people, inhibited
publishing such books containing stories of historically famous people, traditional folk tales, cultural and geographical knowledge, anything containing national flag and the national
flower(Mugunghwa), and ones dealing with social movements. Changing
people’s name into Japanese one, implementing ‘Japanese only policy’, brainwashing
people to believe in one ideology and history. On an imminent danger of being swept by the
wave of the foreign invasion, Koreans exerted the power to keep their own colour, Korean
identity.
 |
| mandatory worshiping of the Japanese shrine |
During that era, the concept was there for
the weak to herd in one place and to fight against the colonial power. In its formation, it was
followed by the strong hatred against Japan. What was needed to do that was the united
idea of the people, the spirit of the people. There needed to be a united idea and
structures from which people felt there was an existing Korean identity. Through publication of history books( Korean independence activist, historian, nationalist and the founder of the nationalist historiography of Korea: Shin Chae-Ho), united version
of Korean characters and grammar(see Joo Si-Gyeong) and education,
people built up the main structure of Korean identity.
Power of Korean identity was also used
after the World War II, preceding the ‘miracle of Han river’—which raised Korea
tremendously fast from the level of the poorest country to the level on which we are standing in 21st century.
 |
| South Korea's GDP growth |
Not scarcely
followed by sacrifice of an individual, the formation of Korean nationalism put
the strong emphasis in the ‘group’ and its benefit. After having been through
threatens of Japanese colonization and Korean War, people formed strong groups
which showed who was with or against the group. People working for the colonial
power was called ‘pro Japanese group’ with strong revulsion and still raises question in modern society.
The term ‘commie/the Reds(빨갱이)’,
an insulting word indicating those having communist beliefs.
Present Phenomenon-Where can we find Korean identity?
Looking into the history of our nation and Korean identity, the term is tangled with the history. It shares the scratch of history from specific time, sharing the same scar.
 |
| Kim Yu-na |
As time passes, the concept ‘sharing the same
history’ seems to dilute in the minds of people. However, consciously and
unconsciously, Korean nationalism still is a significant force that drives
people to put powers together and act accordingly.
Having a tendency to gather at one place during the time of crisis can be seen as an existing evidence of Korean identity. Take for example gold collecting champaign reported by BBC in 1998 with eight tones of gold collected. Korean people helped our nation go through the time of crisis.
They gather not only during the time of the crisis,
but also in a moment of joy and pride. Seeing Samsung’s thrive in the market or some
foreign recognition of Korea was quite impressive. When Korean athletes won
gold medals news reported great victory won by Kim Yun-A, the ‘figure queen’,
and Park Tae-wan, the ‘marine boy’.
When Psy’s ‘Gangnam style’ climbed up to second place in Billboard chart, the
new ‘style’ swept Korea, the song and the dance being played over and over
again.
 |
| Psy's Gangnam Style |
During the Olympic time, people gather at the same place, wearing
clothes of similar colour, shouting the same phrase ‘Tae-Han-Min-Guk(republic
of Korea)’ and ‘Oh, Pil-Seung Korea!’ See the heat and enthusiasm of the people during the Olympics in the video.
Side effects of the misunderstood 'Minjok'
However, being distorted or misunderstood,
it could bear some negative consequences as well. Benefits or the unity of
group, as ‘Koreans’, can easily replace individuality among a group. It can
also ignore the means to approaching the goal as the end could take the value
away from it.
Idea of 'sameness'
Korean identity formed in the past was
about ‘sameness’ (as the word Minjok and ‘same ethnicity’ points out). It bears
some negative consequence as people may fall into the fallacy of having a negative
view toward being different.
When I was in England people would not
hesitate in telling people what they were good at. Whereas in Korea, if people
asked someone if he was good at studying, chances are that he would probably
say
‘Well, I’m not that good’.
Sooner or later, it would turn out that he
is actually the top student in his class. Not a lot would say without
hesitation, ‘Yes, I’m pretty good at that’. Is it simply another form of ‘modesty’?
It is more like fearing being ‘different’ from others. After all, those honest
accounts of themselves may easily be seen as something arrogant in Korean
society. Willingness to conform to the sameness can be also seen in 'trends' which may deprive people of their unique individuality. Being different as a quality standing out with more impacts, foreigners in Korea may have some hard time at first. In a survey conducted in University of Seoul English Magazine in 2012, 88% of Korean students said yes to the question, “Do you think there is discrimination against foreigners in Korea?”
This video is in presented in a humourous manner, but it contains some insight into the treatment of foreigners in Korea.
A homogeneous nation?
Some wrong interpretation about the word
Minjok can be misleading. Some think the factor consisting Korean identity is being a homogenous group, sharing the ‘same blood’, from the same ethnicity. Is having the ‘pure blood’ what forms our national identity?
Being a peninsula and a junction surrounded by powerful countries, Koreans have
gone through several wars with surrounding countries. Whether the people wanted or not, they were to interact with people from other
countries. Even from BC. 2 during the time of Go-Chosun(고조선), ethnic group deriving from China, called Yui-man people(위만족) came down. Some kings had their wife who were foreigners. There even were policies during Goryeo(고려) Dynasty around 10th century promoting incorporating other ethnic groups from collapsed countries, encompassing the region which is now China's territory.
 |
| DNA evidence refuting homogenuous society |
Grouping together. Grouping only with 'Koreans' together?
Moreover, there are some people seeking to
find our national identity in disliking or excluding others. As intensified
formation of Korean identity is quite closely related to Japan colonization,
people may relate the feelings toward Japan with their Korean identity.
Whenever there is a clash between Korean and Japanese, there would be a strong reaction. In that aspect, Korean identity still seems to be rooted strongly
to the past. Although there have been some obscurity in the issue of the past
which must have been addressed properly to unravel complex feelings each
country has, we should not source that binds people in negative feelings toward
others.
Future of Korean Identity: in 'ing' form.
We should not find Korean identity—ourselves
as a group after having excluded and pushed away others. Through globalization,
we interact with foreign powers. Globalization is not an option, but a naturally
occurring phenomenon. It essentially means an open market which allows free competition
without barriers among different countries. Not only does it mean sharing
common products but also sharing of similar ideas and commonness which
accompany the products. Modern Korea, too, was affected by this flow of ‘western
influence’.
When people were also asked about the
friendliness of foreign culture, about 46.5% responded that they were similar.
When asked of the preference between western culture and Korean culture When
also asked whether they enjoyed foreign culture more than Korean culture, 78.1%
was for the foreign culture. As interactions from different countries increase,
we are being assimilated to this trend of globalization. Then, in which context
should national identity be found? Is it even necessary in the era of
globalization?
My answer would be—because of the globalization, Korean identity should be a
power that makes people maintain who we are. Instead of being swept
away by the wave of globalization. Nation without an identity is a nation
without a base. Korean identity, despite the weigh and the complicated meanings the
word implies, is not so far away from our daily lives. Being happy and proud when
something good to our country happens. Saying with certainty that he is a ‘Korean’.
Worrying during the time of the crisis. In spite of the constructive criticism one
may throw from time to time, in the end, relying on their original base, Korea.
One step further, playing a role one was given as a member of the set group. Sharing
the concern for the welfare of the country. Wanting to change our country for
the good. Believing in the future and the continuity of our nation. It is the
Korean identity.
Yet, the concept 'Minjok' should not be focusing about being the same with others or excluding those who seem different. After all, a group is formed by different individuals with different colour going in harmony, not by those gathered to be assimilated into a group painted in one thick colour. The relationship between a group and an
individual is not a one-way interaction. Korean identity should be a power to which people attend to complement the weakness and the one that pulls people together to do a work in a unit of a country. In doing so, individual’s thoughts and stance should be reflected to
the fullest, not being painted over by the same wide brush of distorted concept of 'Minjok'.
sources:
1. Wikia-Human science-emergence of the conscious individual
2. [한국문화 정체성은 없다|작성자 섬문화연구소(Korean culture has no Korean identity-by Island Culture Research Team
3. Britannica-Humanism
4. Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy-Nationalism
5.Naver 지식백과(encyclopedia-일제 강점기 금서(forbidden books during Japan colonization)
6. Seoul beats-Korean nationalism uncovered
7.KBS world
8.BBC analysis-Koreans give up their gold to help their country
9. The UOS times-"Members of Multicultural Families, Are They Korean?"
http://times.uos.ac.kr/news/articleView.html?idxno=1328
10.After watching EBS special <It's not bad to be different>(Korean site)
http://sahngoh.tistory.com/371
10.After watching EBS special <It's not bad to be different>(Korean site)
http://sahngoh.tistory.com/371
2013년 7월 4일 목요일
Welcome to the World of Facebook
LAST YEAR-
'Gyung-Hyun Je, You have notifications pending'.
True.
I could see it clearly in front of me, with 253 new mails filling up pages after pages. Lines after lines, 'Gyung Hyun Je, You have notifications pending' stood out in clear blue letters on beaming screen. There were occasionally some 'Kylie said something about you. Check them out!' or 'Sofiya Syrovatskaya wants to be friends with you'. Lines after lines. Pages after pages. 'Gyung Hyun Je, there are 14 friends whose Birthdays are in this week!' 'Gyung Hyun Je, 45 people are waiting for your.....'
Click, click click click click. Delete.
No matter how quickly I clicked and deleted, new messages crammed into the missing places. 237 more to go. Looking at the all those tangled blue letters, I wondered what Facebook manager had to say so desperately. There had got to be something special among those mails that were stuck on my mailbox everyday. Reading, clicking and deleting, I rolled down the mouse, moving it across the screen idly.
When I had first started Facebook, it was an unknown world in a new continent to pioneer with my fingers and key board. Mysterious words such as 'Pokes' with a small sign of a finger by the right side or the endless 'Wall' where others could put their doodles on fascinated me. As soon as I made my account, there were so many people who wanted to be friends with me. Once I willingly clicked this accept sign, we were official friends. Day by day, I would sit in front of the computer screen smiling contently, counting all friends I had like a child counting his candies. One of the nicest thing about Facebook was that on my Birthday, this kind manager would let my friends know it so that they could say Happy Birthday to me. On that day, I sat down, reading all the posts that started from the top of the screen to the end, clicking merrily 'Likes' for every post.
I was absolutely overwhelmed by the mightiness of Facebook. Intricate lines of communications I had were unraveled so easily by its wisdom. I enriched my brain everyday, tapping in new information learnt from one of the most ingenious things ever invented. I could sit down from the morning and swim softly through the vast ocean of Facebook until dawn.
However, the day when my love for the Facebook came to a screeching halt had come. Everyday there were some comments on the posts or on my wall. Seeing them, I was obliged to click Likes and put comments on them. It was like getting some other homework to be handled in due date. 'Gyung Hyun Je, Your notification is pending' was the worst possible message I could get from the Facebook manager. When I did not log on for more than a day, it felt as though there was a stone that sat heavily on my mind.
'Did I poke her back? Did I put some comments on the post he left? Would Laura be disappointed if I just ignore the message she sent?'
I had to make sure that my facebook was kept tidy and not 'pending'. Posts waiting for replies, pokes sent from friends, comments on my wall. It seemed that the communication lines which I had thought had been unraveled were tangled even more. Swimming too further in the ocean of Facebook, I had realised that I had come too far.
Although I somehow managed stay abstinent for a few months, on entering highschool, my facebook life started all over again. It no longer was a choice, but a need. It was as if I was forming a bond with internet net working itself. For some other 'attention seekers', facebook was a place where he could find some 'likes'(that he probably would not get so much in real life) from others, their lost self confidence and potential ego centrism through those 'thought provoking' posts. Even a few used it to 'implicit' attack others in a manner which made everyone who read the post would immediately realise who was on the issue. Facebook really was like a small society(small?) recreated on the web.
'There would be a very important notification I will be posting on the facebook group. I will give some disadvantages to those who do not check it...'
'English teacher posted the scores on facebook! Please check!'
I was almost forced to form a bonding, be a part of the vast net of interaction and communication. It was rooting into my life as something that I could not live without.
As time passes, people are being added to this big communication web like spiders. Some controlling it, and others being tied up by own nets they have created. Putting their identity on public and internet, it seems as if people are forming muti-identities through these sites. What is worth a while thinking about is:
What is it that we get from those net workings? Some important things fundamental to our lives like big main root of a tree, others like a minor twigs?
Some people do it almost instinctively without much thoughts. How come has this rather tremendous change and a slightly awkward phenomenon been molten into our lives so naturally?
...
Now, time for Facebooking.
Happiness
It always started with the musics. Loud beats, fast rhythms, with its sound echoing through the mountains. Before I started, I looked down the hill from where I was standing. Mountains in horizon were all I could see. As if I were standing at the edge of a cliff I could not actually see what was down the hill. I stood there, acting like a climber who managed to the top of Mountain Annapurna. After I took a big breath, I let my ski be drifted away by the stiffness of the slope.
Feeling the wind passing by my ears, I was as free as seagulls. As speed increased, all I could hear was sound of wind along with rhythms. More turns, blanker the mind became. Heavy burdens I was carrying throughout-troubles, homeworks, expectations- seemed to dilute into whiteness of the snow. For a short, fast moment, I was completely free of things that suffocated my adolescence. During skiing, nothing mattered but the speed, the rhythm and the moment.
Skiing was like a refuge from my life with distractions. Concentrating on the most simple and instinctive things. When the stress overwhelmed me, I went to ski with sudden impulse. There I would shut my eyes for a while and stood up on a low hill. Feeling the 'moment' again, I continued to ski in the way I liked until tangled things in my life unraveled.
Every time I went to ski, snow greeted me with same still colour. The colour white. It was a colour of dignity. It was always honest, clear and straight forward free from other colours. People drew lines of their own, riding in their own styles. Sprinkling snow every turn, they made smooth drawings of their own.
I loved everything related to skiing. Even songs with ridiculous lyrics became my favourite. I loved the process of preparing to ski, the very sound of it, and even the way it was pronounced. Like a spiritual ceremony, everything involved in the preparation was sacred; tying up my boots, washing thick gloves, driving to ski resort. Even holding heavy ski equipments and walking to the slope was a part I could heartfully enjoy.
Ski rebooted my over-heated life. By the time I had to leave-by the time I was completely soaked in snow and sweat-I got exhausted. Although my body felt as heavy as ever, things I carried in my head became clear and cool. On my way home and for days, I soaked myself again in the feelings I had during skiing.
No matter how I loved skiing, thinking of it did not help anymore. Promises of next winter did not console me either. Last winter, when I skied at least twice a week, was the happiest winter ever been. I knew too well, though, a winter like that would never come at least in next five or six years.
My parents had told me one day:
'Well... I think is about the time you concentrate on studying. Don't you think? Later you will find that you actually don't have enough time for that.'
I was sixteen. It was an age of changes. I often heard people around telling me that next five or six years were very important ones in my life, that it could change everything. So I needed to think carefully what I wanted to do and pour my 'passion' into it. I also knew too well by 'things I wanted to do', they did not include skiing.
People told me those things, wishing me the best. The best for them was to be happy in the future. Some really wanted me to take the heartful advises, for they did not want me to regret on the things they had. For brighter and happier life.
However, bright happy life for me was not something big and fancy. It was rather small bits and pieces of happy moments in present adding up to big things. Nonetheless, I was expected to, and would spend my next five to six years like everyone else around me. Going to mathematics institutions trying to understand vectors and trigonometric, learning how to memorize things effectively, finding out good tips on how to score better at tests. For happier life.
Some tried to console me by saying that even if the skiing looked like a great deal to me, I would soon forget it once I 'grew up'. I needed to concentrate on things that actually mattered in my life, they said.
Maybe, they were right. Maybe I was too young to foresee the things in the future. Leaving things up to adults' discretion often turned out to be wise and helpful. Maybe I would realise in the future, skiing was not a big deal at all. That it was wise of me to focus on more 'important things'. Later I might as well forget nearly all about it-the freedom, the concentration, sheer nothingness and the rhythm. Along with one happiness forgotten in my life.
 |
| Changing. Losing. Regretting. |
2013년 7월 2일 화요일
It's Dirty
Dirty. It is a term used to describe something impure or indecent, a place kept in unsanitary condition or merely something covered in dirt. According to the most common use of the word 'dirty', you can use the word in the following situations.
You are waiting for tube in London subway station in summer and see rats crawling merrily in and out. You can remark that the place is dirty. Or, you notice your friend's white sneakers are covered in mud. Then you may as well let him know his shoes are dirty. When you are walking down the street, you see a chimney cleaner with his face covered in ash. You may think his face is dirty.
 |
| A bad day |
Say, you are having an awful day. You were late to school and got detention. Stepped on a puddle with your brand-new shoes. Forgot to bring an essay that you had poured your effort into. For a final touch, your younger brother broke your MP3 player. You call your friend and say, 'Hey, I am in such a bad mood.'. Or you say 'Hey, I feel dirty'. Your friend would probably console you right away without hearing any further explanations in latter case.
In this sense, 'dirty' expresses how you honestly feel from the deepest core of your heart. Combination of the irritation, the offendedness and a slight frustration coming from the situation is molten perfectly in this one single sentence. Ready to explode any minute by a slight poke. You feel dirty.
 |
Not only a mood but also someone's personality can be called dirty. Perhaps, a hysterical teacher who enjoys throwing harsh sarcasm to his students is someone whose personality people call 'dirty'. Calling one's personality 'dirty' has your own personal feelings attached under the word. If his students say 'His personality is so dirty.' instead of using other adjectives, people may guess the students have had hard time. It implies feeling such as 'What's up with his personality?' or 'Is he especially picking on me?' or sheer annoyance. Unlike just describing it bad or annoying, the word 'dirty' is different in its weight.
Another commonly used form is 'dirtily'. Meaning, really or very much. In a bad sort of way. Whereas the use of 'dirty' is limited for certain situations, 'dirtily' is not. It fits naturally and beautifully into different sentences if 'dirtily' and 'really' can replace one another. 'I feel dirtily bad', 'This food tastes dirtily disgusting.'. 'They dirtily do not pay attention to class', 'I am dirtily unlucky today', 'This is dirtily hard'. Of course, like 'dirty', the tone changes when using 'dirtily' instead of 'really'. Generally, dirtily implies things are not going as you hoped or would have liked. It makes you irritated, uncomfortable and uneasy. So when you hear someone say 'Things are getting dirtily complicated', you may not want to get on his nerves right then.
Although there are certain limits in using 'dirty', some people these days-especially young people- break the limitation. They simply call things they do not like 'dirty'. Following dialogues are common examples.
-Hey! Did you hear that our summer holidays is only for three weeks?
-Dirty!!!
or
-Guess what? Our final exam is in three days! Did you study for it?
-Oh. It really is dirty.
Or they simply name things 'dirty' when they disapprove it. Dirty homework, dirty school, dirty form tutor, dirty life, dirty test and so on(depending on situations, it might actually mean the thing is not clean).
Some people may think the word 'dirty' or 'dirtily' used in informal way is a bad slang. That it sounds too rough or impolite as if they were spitted out from mouth. Others may argue linking word dirty to a negative connotation is unfair. Viewing dirty thing as bad is prejudiced. However, 'dirty' is the perfect word in getting your feelings across in simple form.
'Dirty world that only remembers the one in first place'
It was a popular line among people these day taken from comedy program in Korea. During the show, a drunk man shouts out the sentence with his twisted tongue. In fact, his one single line reflects a dark aspect of our society. Not only in education but also in general work place, people-ranging from adults to students-compete to be better than anybody else. A student who came first in the test. A businessman with number one selling record. A group of people who graduated from well-known scholastic university. People think those are the ones our society remembers in the end. They think the end justifies the means and the end is what matters.
These are all implied in the comedian's line. 'This dirty world.' People laugh at his funny acting, laugh at the sharp and insightful denouncement of the social norm, and laugh because they can relate to his feeling about the 'dirty' world. In the word 'dirty', there is edged criticism to society, bitterness, frustration and a bit of sadness. Had it been replaced with other words such as 'bad' or 'disgusting' it would not have brought up the same identification from people. The real value is in the fact that 'dirty' manages to deliver complex and condensed emotions in simple and straight forward way.
Dirty. It is a term used to describe something unclean. And, it is a single peculiar word that has different layers of meanings.
2013년 7월 1일 월요일
Korean Work Ethics: Missing Places Part 2/2
Next missing place was destined for mum. Or everyone in family except mum. Dad was offered a sabbatical leave from his job and he took it. Dad, sister and I left for England for a year and mum stayed behind. It was three of us going to England and our family could not afford to have four of them without no one to earn money for a year. So mum stayed, keeping her post in her job, working.
I was a goldfish swimming merrily in a small pond, Wonju. Suddenly, I was transported and dropped into an ocean. In that new environment, mum's absence was as startling as a palace without the middle pillar. No one was to effectively intervene. Though dad tried, he only turned both sister's and my back against him somehow. Mum's missing place was following me everywhere. To bedroom when dad was working late, to streets when I rode bike and saw families together, to Tesco when choosing dinner menu, and to school dormitory among new people.
The only thing that connected me with mum was a two centimetre thick computer screen and a web cam. She was only forty centimetres away yet so far away. Seeing her in her office alone nearly everytime we skyped gave me an ache. Although I was old enough to understand the reason why she had to stay back with brain I liked to ask again the reason why. So I habitually asked sometimes:
'Mum! Why can't you just come over and live with us? Leaving your work behind for a little while?'
Then she replied in similar patters 'You know I can't. I have to work. It's all for you three, you know. Who would send you guys money for daily bread if it hadn't been for me? Huh?' in joky manner. Nonetheless, I knew she meant it.
After returning to Korea, everything went back to regular basis. Continuing on for being a weekend couples for parents. For sister, studying abroad in a university. For me, also studying and being ready to jump into three years of hell in Korea, called high school.
Our family had worked hard, as our society likes to see. We gained, consequently, things the society values. Parents, high social statues of being professors in Korea, sister, a title of student in one of the highest universities, and I, English test grade and some other grades. Our family does not live in sumptuous palaces but live with no serious problems caused by money. We enjoy things we want to in reasonable extent.
In the exchange, all those--took something. In my memory, there is no such a scene where the whole family, every one of them, gather after work every day at table and have meal after work. No scene where we see one another's face after work. Instead, we were normally greeted by empty house. The things easily observed in other families' were rare and valuable things in our family. And they accumulated for weeks, months, years.
Our family have hardly lived altogether, always making a room for our old friends, missing places. Mother, father, sister and I all over different places. Things I was too young to understand, now I understand. Everyone have worked hard for good.
Nonetheless, there sits missing places in different corners of our house, crouching like a ball, stubbornly keeping their original posts as always.
Korean Work Ethics: Missing Places Part 1/2
Ever since I was very young, there has always been one or two missing places in our house. They are among spoons at the dinner table, cushions in family bedroom, shoes in shelves, laughs in front of a television. They are places that we are too busy in living our own lives to notice often. For me, they are places that have always been sitting there as some unwelcomed parts of our family, protruding like a nail in a wrong place.
At the moment, both of my parents are ‘good members of society’, an elder sister a hard-working university student and I am a fine (or so it seems) high school student. Pretty normal. Behind the scene, there is a slight difference. My parents are so-called 'weekend-couples' in Korean word, who have jobs in different province. My sister studies abroad alone. We manage to gather at one place for two times a year, during each vacation. After a few weeks or a month, we go back to our own posts.
It has always been this way. Since I was three, I was used to waiting for dad on every Friday night. He came accompanied with scent of the big city, Seoul, and tiredness that clung at the edge of his trousers all the way along. Cuddling myself with arms around my legs, I sat at the dark empty entrance and tried to gaze bravely at the door which licked out coldness. I waited. Not knowing whether or not he was having his 'very important conference' with 'very important professional people' even after the dinner hour or was too tired to come.
At some point, I noticed things were not always like how it was in my family to others. The kind of dad they had was 'week dad', not 'weekend dad'. On Mondays, our weekend dad went back to work wearing a suit and a professional face. As I was only elementary school kid, it was too difficult for me to understand. I sometimes screamed and cried, telling him not to go. Putting myself and his work in a scale, I childishly asked him to weigh us. However, in the end, he inevitably and sorrily chose the work.
But it was only the beginning in our dynamic family history. Another big separation was yet to come and make a chapter itself. It started off with my elder sister's simple announcement: 'I am going to live with dad in Seoul'.
Wonju, a city where we were leaving in, was a small town in the mountainous province inhabited with not a lot of people from different regions. As I had heard it since I was in elementary school, the chances were about two people in one class in high school would manage to go to universities in Seoul. Only six percent. Meaning, the other ninety four would not be able to get into a 'good' university. What did that mean to them? No chance of getting into good companies that only valued graduation certificates from in-Seoul universities(hey, who is going to employ you when you only wasted your four years in unknown rural universities even if you did a good job?). So the students had to be outstanding, outrunning, and outreaching. My sister had a clear notion of that. She wanted an environment that gave her higher chances for 'good' highschool and 'good' universities. She packed her things after elementary school graduation and left. From then on, father and sister together and mum and I together.
It was a weird sensation at first. No one to fight over puddings at dinner table. No one to argue with in bed. No one to guard against for my clothes.
I was feeling the freedom that crept from the toe to the neck like tickles, a thrill. It tolled like 'bell of freedom' that figurative rang in 1963. All those sufferings, paid back in full. But linger to the past no more, as there settled a peace at last.
My sister was a person I tenderly adored from the core of my heart or disliked madly at the same time. There had never been an 'in between' for us. A place without her was a paradise without natural enemy. Wind of peace prevailed. At least, that was how I felt. Weirdly, I had to admit I did not get too excited about the event for more than a week. And I found myself thinking about her unlike myself. Mum went on being busy and came in late. House was too quiet. Along with the so-it-seemed freedom and peace, what I saw again, was one more of that familiar missing place sitting in the corner.
Mum and I went to Seoul once a week to see them. At first, it seemed like a fun and a special thing that our family gathered only once a week. A new experience. Then it turned out to be a new experience indeed, quite soon enough. It was when our family was unnoticeably categorized into two groups.
At first, we started to use the words 'Seoul/Wonju family' or 'Seoul/Wonju house' to indicate each other's house. They seemed like handy words for grouping. I could say things like; 'Are we going to Seoul family's this weekend?', 'Seoul house is too hot in summer.' However, the use of the word change slightly. They came as a way to draw a tacit line between the two 'family'. I began to see them differently. 'I want to go back to Wonju house! I hate being in Seoul house!', 'I do not understand Seoul family. I don't know why they act like that.' Out of sight, out of mind. I had thought it would not be applied to me.
Even some parts of my unfailed love for dad had changed slightly. The relationship between he and I had changed. He looked different from the dad I remembered in the childhood. It seemed okay to live, seeing him only once a week. I not only got used to it but started to feel it had better be the way it was. He seemed to have nothing so special he wanted to talk about and neither did I. I once told my mum;
'Mum, I don't know why but recently, dad seems like a guest or something.'
'Oh, don't be like that! He will be so disappointed if he hears that. When you were young, he was only too sorry that he could not take you to many places with you.'
She replied.
And now?
I mumbled the question at my throat.
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