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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781452089331 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 10/20/2010 |
| Pages: | 212 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.48(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Butterfly
A life journey from South Korea to AmericaBy Jeannie Ji
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Jeannie JiAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-8933-1
Chapter One
A Brief Family History
My father, Ji Keum Yong, was originally from North Korea. He married my mother, Seo Ha Ok, in 1931. My parents had 11 children, but only five survived into adulthood. I lost my father when I was thirteen years old, and my mother passed when I was seventeen.
My older brother was named Wook, my two older sisters were Jong Yeo and Sue (Jong Sook), and In Ge is my younger brother. Only In Ge is still alive. I never met my mother's parents, but my grandfather's name was Seo Kong Yul and my grandmother's name was Lee Yun Hwa. I do not believe anyone is still alive on my mother's side. My father had a sister who remained in North Korea during the war. I do not know whether she is still alive, but I preserve the hope of finding her.
My sister told me that my father had a second wife. At the time, it was acceptable for Korean men to have second wives, particularly if the man was unable to have a son with his first wife. My father had one son, but was intent upon having another boy. Instead, his second marriage gave him another daughter who stayed in North Korea with her mother during the war. Neither the daughter, nor the wife was ever heard from again, but my father left all of his assets with them so they would be taken care of. When I confronted my mother about the subject, she admitted he had a daughter. She did not want to talk about it, so I never brought up the topic again.
The Tunnel
My family walked about a hundred miles from North Korea to South Korea, during the height of the Korean War. My father's health was very poor, so Wook and Jong Yeo had to help my parents cross from North Korea to South Korea.
Before the journey, my family had to use a tunnel for shelter. My father headed out of the tunnel to look for food, but a head injury prevented him from going far. When he tried to get some edible greens, he picked the wrong plants. After their meal, everyone in the family grew very sick, so the trip to South Korea was delayed.
I had another sister, Jong Ha, who became very sick. My family took turns tending to her and had to remain in the tunnel even longer. Jong Yeo said she would never forget Jong Ha's smell from her illness; she smelled like she was already dead. They had no spare water to bathe her and the tunnel had no ventilation.
The next day, Jong Yeo left the tunnel in search of a family friend, Kim, to see if he had any food to spare. He didn't want to help, so she did not get any food. When a bomb exploded during a raid on her way back, she had to hide in the creek. She fell right onto a dead body. Apparently, it had been there for a long time. Panicking, she washed herself as much as possible, but she was unable to get fully clean. After Jong Yeo returned to the tunnel, my parents were too sick to help her and had to use their energy to care for Jong Ha. Now, Jong Yeo smelled horrible also.
A Box of Matches
When my brother helped Jong Yeo venture outside to find water, she either stole or found a box of matches. (I do not remember.) At that time in Korea, matches were worth a great deal. My sister was now able to trade the matches for food. If they did not have those matches, they would not have been able to make the eventual journey to South Korea. Sadly, Jong Ha died before they completed their journey. I never met her.
My Birth
My parents lost three children in a bombing raid during the Korean War. They rarely spoke of this, so that is all I know. When my mother went into labor with me, she had to run in from the field to give birth away from the bombing.
After I was born, my mother suffered from shock. She was disoriented, possibly because she did not have enough food during the last stage of pregnancy. She didn't even realize I was born. In her confusion, she wandered away and got lost. My sister found me in the basement of a house not far from the tunnel. My family could not find my mother anywhere. After a long search, my sister finally found her, fifteen miles away.
For my first three months of life, my mother could not care for me because she was too weak. American soldiers had mistaken her for an enemy (a North Korean) and shot her with a machine gun. Several bullets hit her legs and she never fully recovered. My father endured a horrible head injury before I was born, so he didn't enjoy my presence at first. I only ate rice soup, from some rice that my sister found, because my mother was unable to nurse me, so my sister took care of me on her own.
My family felt that their only choice was to give me up for adoption, because my mother and sister would not be able to take care of me. My sister told me that another mother nursed me, so I could stay alive until she found a home for me. After I was born, they tried to clean me. Since they had no access to water, they had to wait until it rained or snowed. My mother said my skin looked like a snake; she was surprised that I lived.
After a week, she found someone to take me and agreed to give me up for adoption. She finally managed to get a little water and tried to wash me. As my mother washed me, I smiled at her. She was unable to give me up. My mother told me this story over and over again. Whenever I was bad, my mother said, "I should have given you up when I had the chance." Now, I am writing this story and I wonder if I might have become a totally different person if I had been adopted. This story would not exist.
Our New Life
When we finally arrived in Seoul, my father managed to plant a stick in the ground and sell iced tea. He did well in this location. (At that time in Korea, you staked a claim to land by planting a stick. If no one challenged your claim in a specified amount of time, you gained legal title to the land.) After a few years, he sold the land. If he had kept the land, we would have been so rich that I never would have had to come to America, because that land is now the most expensive in Korea. However, my father wanted to move to a small town so he could raise his children without worry. We all moved to Jan-Kok, a village 35 miles north of Seoul (also called Jan-Kok-ri and Jonkok-Myon Yonchon-Kun).
My father found Kim's family after they arrived in South Korea. Kim also sold iced tea on the street. My father asked him to join us in JanGok-ri. Since Kim wife and my father had the same family name and he came from North Korea, we called one another, "cousin". This shows how important family was to my father, since Kim was the man who refused to give us rice during our journey from North Korea. I still have contact with Kim's son, Kim Cheong Ho. Kim Cheong Ho sold the farm and recently opened a restaurant, but he lost everything.
My father purchased a farm from his friend Park's family. My parents opened a restaurant that served North Korean food, which all our family members operated together. My mother tied me to her leg so she could work. She said I cried a lot, but I would be quiet if I were given noodle water. (After boiling the noodles, the starch water remains.) Time after time, they told me the reason I got so tall was because I drank so much noodle water.
After I had cried for a long time, Jong Yeo found a large sore on my leg. My mother had put black rubber bands over the socks she knitted to protect me from getting cold feet, but the rubber bands had cut through my skin and stuck to my bone. Since she was carrying me on her back every day, she did not realize that a newborn baby's skin is very sensitive. My mother cut the rubber bands with scissors and wrapped the wound in cloth without any medication. She let the cloth stay on for a long time.
By the time my mother realized that I had a problem, it was too late. The wound had become infected and took about a year to heal. When I was 14, I was not able to enter a beauty contest because of my leg. I was very disappointed. When I was young, it bothered me a great deal and I hid the scars with socks. Every time my mother looked at my legs, she was very sad. She always considered what she could have done to prevent what happened to my legs. I am sure she did whatever she could to take care of me; I never thought she was not a good mother. Even after cosmetic surgery, I still have a big scar. Throughout my life, people have asked me what happened to my legs. I say that I was in an accident, because sometimes it is too difficult to explain. I still think about the scar occasionally.
Right before my sister was ready to get married, we had a fire at our restaurant. No one was hurt, but we lost everything and had to start over. (At that time, there was no such thing as insurance.) My sister had to delay her wedding plans to help rebuild the business.
We moved about ten blocks from the restaurant, to an old house. My family started a small store that sold everything, from cigarettes to food to clothing. Later on, the small store grew into a large hardware and department store. Even when we owned the larger store, my mother still would not allow me to eat any of the good merchandise. I had to eat the flawed produce. I often complained because I wanted to eat the good ones. My mother replied, "The customers are paying the bills and putting a roof over our heads. Do not ever forget." Even now, we have a fruit tree at our house and In Ge and I still eat the dented fruit and give the good ones to others. Every time I do this, I smile and feel like my father and mother are still with me.
Throughout my childhood, we did not have utilities or running water. We used an outdoor bathroom and had to burn wood to heat water and cook. The remaining embers were moved to an iron pot, which provided warmth to the room. Sometimes we used the pot for ironing, with the irons heated on the pot. We had to wash our clothing in the river. The ground water in our village was polluted with gasoline from the war, so it was not drinkable or even suitable for washing clothes. We had to carry spring water from the mountains.
Even though I did not have many toys or material things, I was pretty happy. My father thought that money complicates life. He told me that my job was to go to school and not worry about other things. My father told me many wise things; more importantly, I learned even more by his actions.
Memories of My Father
My father's name was Ji Keum Yong. He married Seo Ha Ok in 1931, and died on November 10, 1966. He was 5 feet 10 inches tall, quite tall for a Korean, and was very handsome. I have a picture of him holding my nephew, his first grandchild, which is the only picture I ever had of my father.
My father was very intelligent and dominant, as well as practical and resourceful. We never had to purchase any medication because he always knew exactly what to do. I never needed a doctor before I came to the United States. When I was about nine years old, I had many infections. My father mixed flour, salt, and water to make medicine; these methods were the only way my father knew. I always felt better the day after. It was great!
My father always had the answer to everything. No one has ever come close to making me feel as safe as he did. As my younger brother, In Ge, gets older, he becomes more like my father. Often when I look at In Ge, I feel like I just saw my father. It reminds me of an old saying, "You cannot hide the blood relative." When I was young, I did not believe this, but I've come to appreciate it.
My father did a great deal of gardening. He grew everything we ate and was skillful in preserving the food by drying and using careful storage techniques. Our fruit cellar was just a hole in the ground, with layers of rice straw between layers of fruit. When I was eight years old, I started to help him on the farm and at the store. He taught me things that I still use today, like how to save money or grow a garden. In 1973, after I moved to the United States, we moved to a small house in Robinson, Illinois. The sink was leaking and I, of course, did not know how to fix a leaking pipe and was unable to afford a plumber. My father taught me how to survive and to get by with what you have. Well, I had chewing gum and duct tape. I put chewing gum on the pipe and wrapped duct tape around it to make the repair. The repair lasted as long as I lived in the house. Without my father's training, I could not have made the necessary repair. Even though he was not physically present, I feel that he would be proud of me.
My father respected everything around him and taught me how to not harm the small fish while fishing for bigger ones to eat. We made bait using the husk that came from making sesame seed oil. We mixed this with flour and water to make a paste, which was placed inside a glass pot. Fish could swim inside the pot, but could not swim out. Every hour, I'd check to see if we'd caught any fish. If we had, I'd call to my father, so he would take the big fish and release the others. Sometimes he cooked right there at the river. Other times, he would salt the fish and take them home to dry, so we would have food for winter. My father said we should only eat the fish that swim upstream, because they are healthy.
Every morning, the milkman delivered goat's milk in Coca-Cola bottles. One day, I asked my father why my friends drank cow's milk. Why I could not do the same? He said, "Cows are bigger than we are." He pointed out that we are the same size as goats, so we should not eat meat from animals larger than us, or we would grow too large. He said, "When you are big like a bear, you cannot move or think very fast."
My father was a Christian before many people in Korea converted to Christianity. The churches had wood floors and you had to remove your shoes. One Sunday at church, someone stole my shoes. My father was upset. He could not understand why someone would steal shoes in a church. He made me stop going to church. After this, my father read to me from an old Bible every Sunday and Wednesday. He told me that, without someone greater, this Earth could not have been created. He told me, "You have to believe in someone or something. It makes your life richer."
When I was young, a few times each year it was my job to clean and polish the pots and pans. In the spring, I would scrub the pots and pans in the river with rice straw, sand, and soap until I could see myself on their surfaces. After so many scrubbings, the pans would wear out and get holes. My father repaired the holes by pushing foil into the holes and heating it until the holes were sealed.
My father purchased our family farm from Park, without any formal paperwork. He believed that his friend's word was good enough. A handshake was as good as the title. My father was not the only one who operated as such; most Koreans bought land in the same manner. When I was nine or ten, my mother wanted me to help my father on the farm. At the time, I did not like to work on the farm. It was very hard work for an adult, let alone a child. It would have been easier for my father to work at the store, but he worked on the farm most of the time, particularly in his later life. I worked with my father on the weekends, sometimes for ten-hour days. He showed me how to build houses and churches out of red clay, dirt, and rice straw, and liked to tell me stories as we worked.
My family never ate out. Most of our meals were organic North Korean farm food, which we grew using traditional fertilizers, like animal manure. We plowed the ground using a cow that pulled two big shovels. This was a big job for me to handle at age 10, because the cow had a mind of its own and did not always obey. The cow was large, hard to handle, and sometimes, would take off without me, so I had to chase after the cow. I hated this, but my father needed me, so I felt that it was my duty. My father laughed when I would fall down or make a mistake, then would patiently explain the tricks to make the cow do the work.
When my father worked at the store, he paid attention to every little detail. He counted the money at the end of each business day and carefully smoothed the folded currency, bill by bill. When I asked him why, he asked me, "Would you prefer to have crisp money or wadded-up money from the store?"
Each week, my father would talk with me to tell me all the things I had done right or wrong that week. When I had more good things on my list, he was very happy. Although he never spanked me, I was always afraid of him. I did not want to disappoint him and tried very hard to please him. Confidence and creativity were the most important things my father taught me. At that time in Korea, girls usually stayed home with their mothers. I was an exception. Many people thought I behaved like a boy, but my father was happy with how I acted. Before I was born, my father hoped I would be a boy. Soon after, my father had another son, In Ge, but he was too young to work with my father and was very sick for several years.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Butterfly by Jeannie Ji Copyright © 2010 by Jeannie Ji. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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