already a line of others searching for their names on a list showing which city they had been allocated to. A separate notice gave times for interviews and details of how to request share partners for apartments.
‘We haven’t even had a chance to request Busan,’ Olga moaned.
‘Can you see where we’re assigned to?’ said Amos, leaning over her shoulder.
‘Daegu.’ They both said flatly in chorus. ‘All four of us,’ Amos told Marilyn, who was watching him expectantly.
Over the next few days we went, as a small group, every chance we got to try to negotiate a change to Busan. It was no use. Daegu it would be. We next put our efforts into trying to find out who we would be sharing with. According to the notices pinned up in the foyer two teachers were to share each two-bedroom apartment and married couples would have their own apartment. This rule resulted in several instant couples forming, made easy by the fact that Korean women keep their own names when they marry. Most of our requests resulted in our names being noted on a list but nothing said to confirm that we would be given our preferences. Any attempt to speak personally about arrangements was met with a slowly shaking head and the one word repeated softly with a smile, ‘No.’ It was infuriating but there was nothing that could be done.
‘They don’t even listen to us. It makes me angry the way they give no reasons,’ Marilyn told Amos at dinner.
‘It’s called “happy-faced fascism”. They are taught to deal with people that way; it’s a method for controlling us.’ Amos explained how he had learnt about this from experience in Singapore. He was not looking his usual happy self, I noticed.
Five
The real situation only became known when we reached Daegu and were taken to our accommodation. Most singles were billeted with families. They were given a small room in a crowded house, ate with the family, shared the bathroom and were obliged to keep the ten o’clock curfew. In fact they were expected to explain why they were going out at night in the first place. This didn’t go down well.
Marilyn and I wanted so much to share an apartment but Marilyn was billeted with a family of five, parents and three daughters. When we met two nights later at the American-style restaurant, TGI Friday’s, Marilyn told me how she had been horrified to find that she would be sleeping on the floor in a tiny room off the eldest daughter’s bedroom.
‘I am expected to be in bed by nine-thirty at night so that the daughter is not disturbed and I have to be first to use the bathroom in the morning so I have to be up by six a.m.,’ she said with barely concealed rage.
‘Who made those rules?’ I was concerned that Marilyn was no longer her usual buoyant self.
‘The Head of the House, as he keeps reminding me … a fat, balding, full-of-himself, middle-aged … despot … with a face like a frog,’ Marilyn said so glumly that I couldn’t hold back laughter.
‘I’m sorry, but it does sound funny, the way you describe him. I must admit I haven’t done too badly compared to you.’
‘Do you have your own apartment? I could move in with you, do you think?’
I shook my head. ‘I thought I did. I was taken to a modern apartment block near the city centre by two Korean men who spoke only broken English. We went up to the top floor in a lift and then they rang the doorbell. Up until then I thought I was being given an apartment of my own. Then Myong Ai, the owner of the apartment, and one of the teachers at my middle school, came to the door. I was so disappointed.’ Marilyn looked depressed. If even just one of us had their own apartment everything would be so much better.
‘Then I was proudly shown the double bed in the only bedroom,’ I continued. ‘It had a mattress but no bedclothes. They asked me if I would mind sharing the bed with Myong-Ai. I told them I would mind. I really expected that they would have to find me somewhere else to live but Myong-Ai said it would be quite all right. She showed me a tiny closet where she said that she would be happy to sleep on the floor.’
At this point both of us dissolved into hysterical laughter which drew the attention of a group of westerners at a nearby table. Two of them, a tall, thin, thirtyish man and an exceptionally large woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, came over to introduce themselves.
‘We haven’t seen you here before. My name’s Berny Schramm and this is Lorraine Bergit and these …’ He waved in the direction of the rest of his group, who in turn acknowledged the two of us ‘… well, these are our support group. We all meet here once a week.’
The waitress came then with our order and Berny and Lorraine took seats at the table and ordered drinks.
‘Sorry if I seem nosy,’ said Lorraine, ‘but I overheard you mention schools. I’ve been teaching here for eight months. How are you finding it?’
‘Well, I haven’t started yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve only been to my school for one day to meet everyone. I’ve just moved into an apartment with a teacher from the school I will be working at until I start at the Teacher Training Institute.’
‘Be careful not to give out too much of your personal information,’ warned Berny. ‘Koreans are notorious gossips. I’ve been here for two years and after the first month I wanted to know why they asked so many personal questions. I got the same answer from them all; during the war they needed to know as much as possible for security reasons. I pointed out that the war has been over for nearly fifty years. I refuse to answer any questions now.’
Lorraine nodded her agreement.
‘I was given the same story. Because I’m so big the women teachers want to know what size clothes I wear. If I leave a coat or cardigan hanging up, groups of them dare each other to read the labels and then they giggle over the results. I told them I don’t understand how knowing someone’s measurements could help security,’ she laughed and then continued, ‘I tell them, too, that my father is Danish … descended from the Vikings who used to terrorise Europe by raping and pillaging, but my father realises that it was a long time ago and he can’t do that now. I don’t know if they understood but it made me feel better.’ She again burst into infectious laughter.
We met a lot of new friends that night. As different people came in Berny and Lorraine introduced us and encouraged us to come regularly to ‘Friday’s’.
‘It’s almost nine o’clock,’ Berny pointed out. ‘You know there’s a curfew, don’t you? We’d better head for the buses; they stop running at ten o’clock,’
‘Is that for everyone?’ I asked.
‘Oh, yes, definitely. It’s one of the laws still in place since the Korean war,’ explained a pretty American girl sitting across the aisle.
I was not convinced but I thought about Marilyn’s need to be home early.
‘You heard about the curfew, did you?’ I asked her when I got the chance to interrupt a group conversation. Marilyn said nothing but the look on her face said she knew. The restaurant was emptying quickly.
‘I hate taking orders like this,’ Marilyn said angrily. ‘But it’s a bit far for a taxi … cost me a fortune. I’ll have to take a bus, but I’ll still be a bit late, won’t I?’ Her mischievous smile was returning.
‘Come over to my place on Saturday and we can find something fun to do.’
