Chapter 5
At The Threshold of a New Era – Memories of a Childhood
Following my father’s conviction that children should be educated in the capital, our family left the orchard village of Sapsuri and moved to Seoul when I was five. My impression of the village on the day of our departure was that of a big funeral. The whole village buzzed. Everyone in sight along the ten li road to the railway station, as we rode on a horse-cart, was weeping. Mother, holding Myŏngsŏk in her arms, was crying all the way, her face buried in her handkerchief. Father who had me on his lap sat upright with a rigid face as if he were cross, his lips tightly pressed.
Our new house in the capital was in Sajikdong, on high ground, which was reached by what seemed like more than a hundred stone steps. It was small compared to what we were used to but great fun. It was there that for the first time I saw electric light and was amazed. From the verandah, I could see below the parapet, a black dome, like a huge umbrella sitting on the top of a building. When I was told it was the roof top of the Capital Building I was amused. Everything was wonderful.
After moving to Seoul mother lost her health. I often heard her saying the water from the tap disagreed with her. She missed the country and most of all, she said, the water from the spring at the entrance to the orchard.
For me life in Seoul was full of fun. In the morning, after father had gone to work and my sister and brother to school, mother, carrying Myŏngsŏk tied on her back, often went out with me exploring the city. We went to the market, department stores and sometimes went to visit my aunt on a tram. On Sundays all the family went to the Anglican Cathedral behind the Tŏksu Palace. On summer evenings, we went out to the evening market along the pavement of the main road.
My elder brother, Hyŏngsŏk soon became the gang-leader of the kids in the alley. I was proud of him. Some evenings all the children gathered at our house for concerts. The hall was the stage, draped with bed-sheets as curtains. Under direction of Hyŏngsŏk we put on plays, sang and danced.
Mother, eight months pregnant had a still-born baby and became seriously ill. She was bedridden for a long time. My grandmother or my aunt came to give a hand. With the onset of winter came the pickling season and piles of cabbages and mooli were brought in but left for several days unattended in the garden, covered with straw mats to keep the frost out. One day Myŏngsŏk, then three, fell ill, running a high temperature. Grandmother tried to take him to the doctor’s, but he would not be separated from his mother, crying. Mother got out of bed, quickly dressed, called for a rickshaw and set off, holding him on her lap.
Our family practitioner was in Angukdong, not far off from the Capital Building. Either the rickshaw-man misheard the name of the street or he was mad. Or I suppose it was one of the trickeries of fate. My mother inside the carriage, wondering why it took so long, looked out of the peep-hole and saw that they were going in the opposite direction and had gone miles out of the way. She had been exposed too long to the severe cold. That night she became very ill unable even to turn over. The doctor called every day. The atmosphere at home was as heavy as lead.
After giving birth to me and mothering me for five years my mother departed this world. I was too young to remember much about her but the last few minutes that I was with her have meant a great deal to me throughout my life. It represents my memories of her, her love of me, and serves me as the pointer of my conscience that prompts me to be good through all my life.
As on other days, father had gone to work and my brother and sister to school. Since mother’s illness had taken a serious turn Myŏngsŏk had been taken away to be looked after by my aunt. I was alone with mother. I sat close to her. She had been very still until she stirred and called me. Her voice was weak.
‘Darling, are you there? Can you get me the chamber pot?’
I fetched it for her. As I did so, unaware of myself, tears came to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. As she propped herself up in bed she said, ‘Are you crying, my pet?’ and gathered me into her arms. I did not mean to cry but could not help sobs rising and my whole body shaking. She embraced me tighter.
‘Don’t cry, darling. There’s a good girl. Mum’ll soon be better.’ Her voice was very gentle. ‘When I am better,’ she went on, ‘We’ll go shopping at the Hwashin Department Stores and buy some lovely shoes for you, and some nice biscuits too...’
I let myself go and cried freely and then, feeling such comfort in the warmth of her embrace, I felt drowsy.
At that moment someone came in. It must be either my grandmother or aunt. I was ashamed of myself for holding onto my sick mother as I came out of the room but once out I was sulky at being pushed out of such a bliss. Squatting in a sunny patch on the verandah and with my back against the wall I must have nodded off into the sleep that I had failed to get in mother’s arms. When I awoke, there were my father, brother and sister all weeping. I have no memories at all of the few days that followed. On the day of her burial, I am told, I was crying like one possessed. As the hearse was leaving the house I was pounding on the floor crying ‘I want my mummy’ and ‘I want to go with my mummy’ until I passed out. I often heard father telling this story to various people.
‘I can never smack her, even when she’s really naughty. When I raise my hand that scene comes back.’ Probably it was because of this that father was specially gentle and patient with me out of all his children.
In the year after her death, there came several happy events in the family. My brother entered Kyŏng-gi High school as his parents had wished, my father was promoted at his work and I started primary school. We went to visit mother’s grave. Hyŏngsŏk was wearing his school uniform with the badge. Father bought expensive sweets and biscuits besides the food for lunch. He had planned a family picnic by the grave, but no sooner had we got there than my brother broke down at the foot of the grave calling, ‘Mum, you could have waited another year and...’ The outing started and ended in tears. Being a Christian family we did not offer sacrificial food like other families did but we often visited the grave, and on the anniversaries of her death we all sat round at midnight to say prayers and sing the hymns that mother used to like.
After mother died grandmother moved in to look after us. Under her management the household became very tidy and well organized but it lacked homely comfort. A strong disciplinarian she fussed about such things as table manners and the way we addressed our father, and how girls should behave, and boys. Sometimes her iron rules were intolerable but father unconditionally obeyed her, setting an example for us to follow. She had been widowed young, and had brought up two sons, my father and his elder brother, single-handed and successfully. She was very proud and righteous.
When I was nine she arranged a second marriage for father to a woman who had been briefly married before. She was a simple-minded, good-natured woman from the country. It was obvious from the beginning that she tried hard to make a good wife and a good mother. Grandmother retreated to her elder son’s house and the stepmother loosened the household rules. Everybody seemed to be accepting the new situation and trying to adapt to it except for me. I never relaxed and felt comfortable with my stepmother. Sometimes I purposely chose to do things that would displease her. I openly showed my contempt, dislike and dissatisfaction. It is not that I really disliked her but it was rather a kind of psychological twist. She was endlessly patient with me and put up with all my wiles. If she had severely scolded me or smacked or beaten me, I think retrospectively, my childish wilfulness might have given way to docility. Or if she had been given more time, my whims would have run their course and her efforts might have been rewarded, but it was my fault that her marriage to my father came to an abrupt ending.
One evening I cried and sulked for some reason, refused to eat supper
