It’s
just too much for me! Who am I but just an amateur…came here
with a noble mission to bring a little of American culture and….to
Korean….Now after this….time when all else seems….I admit to
myself: I ……too difficult….perhaps a change of scenery or another
better…..Someplace where the cultures are not so irreconcilable.
There I can….be happy….not….write…..rich…..
The
detective tossed his half-consumed Japanese cigarette on the
tile floor between his feet and scrapped ash and butt under
the bank of gray, metal desks in the middle of the squad room.
“No, sir!” he waved his hand dismissively. “This is suicide
note!”
The
American Embassy’s ad hoc liaison officer, Cooper, only three
weeks in the country, frowned and rolled his eyes. Finally,
after a pause he sat down in the chair opposite the Korean detective,
pulled out a pack of Marlboro Lights, and loosened his tie.
Detective Sergeant Park was irritated by the Embassy-issue Korean
interpreter standing behind him, so he grabbed a cigarette from
the American before he shoved the crumpled pack into his breast
pocket. The American’s eyes just bore into the unshaven Korean’s
black eyes. Cooper lit his crisp cigarette, and nearly singed
Park’s eyebrows with the flame from the lighter he flicked only
once. The Korean never blinked. Sucking on the cigarette as
if it were a post-coital snack, Park hummed wistfully. “Well,
he speaks enough English to annoy me!” Cooper shouted at his
Korean aide. A few others in the quiet room looked up, but only
momentarily.
“You
go back to your boss and tell him it is open shut,” Park pulled
a tobacco flake off his tongue, slobbering over his finger,
and then spat on the floor.
“You
see,” Cooper began condescendingly, staring at his interpreter
only, “ 'you say goodbye, I say hello'!”
“No,
I say ‘anyong‘!” Park pounded the thin case folder with his
fist, got up, and walked away.
Cooper’s
interpreter scratched the back of his head in resignation. “Let’s
go back, Cooper, “ the young man suggested reassuringly. “We
can‘t do anything here.”
“No,
I’m not leaving so easily. No matter what the Koreans say or
file, I know better.”
“Yeah,
but who cares? It’s just some teacher, Cooper! Not some soldier
or contractor.”
Cooper
just stared into the folder he had just opened again. The single
page of white paper with hastily scratched handwritten characters
in blue ink and faint streaks of blood seemed to speak to him.
Even the illegible words, of which there were many, made sense
to him. Under the first page were other typewritten pages, unwrinkled
and neatly arranged. The different qualities of paper used and
some discoloration told Cooper they were completed over a period
of months. This was no suicide note, more like a diary extract.
A sarcastic note to himself, perhaps, Cooper mused to himself.
Document
1 (from Canadian
Government Archives)
Over
fifteen villagers gathered at the side of the boardinghouse
nearest the only window at the backside of the tavern. They
were whispering, and one of the women kept anxious guard at
the corner. The sun was still halfway between noon and the horizon,
and many dreaded the approaching dusk. In the distance they
could hear the voice of a woman singing in some odd melody in
a language none of them comprehended.
“Is
she a sorceress?”
“No!
She only has books!”
“Her
hair is so strange and her skin is shiny.”
“She
was telling the men what to do!”
“And
they addressed her like a magistrate!”
“Let’s
go have a look!”
So
the crowd moved around the corner cautiously, one or two persons
carried with the flow. One old man nearly escaped but his friend
grabbed his sleeve. Suddenly, one of the village women screamed.
Almost in unison, the foreign woman screamed, too. The curious
crowd collided together like the ends of an accordion until
one man started laughing. Then all, including the foreign woman,
just stared at the old man transfixed by the gold necklace,
pearl earrings, and gold rings arranged neatly on a dresser
top. “Oh, the thought of such jewelry next to that wonderful
skin makes me happy!” His wife slapped his arm, and then pinched
him when he still did not respond. She struck him across the
head with a stick, and still he just stood there chuckling.
Eventually, everyone else just started laughing, too, even the
wife.
The
foreign woman though crossed her arms across her bare breasts,
dropping the wooden ladle into the washbasin. Her lace slip
still clung to her soap-soaked legs. Her curly, blond hair stuck
to her sweaty shoulders still crusted with the dust from the
roads.
One
of the baggage handlers in the foreign woman’s entourage ran
around the corner of the tavern then and abruptly shoved the
crowd away from the open aperture. “Sorry, ma‘am, they’re just
stupid villagers. It won’t happen again!”
Document
2 (from the Annals
of the Ten Kings of the South)
A
beautiful, young noblewoman from the northeast traveled to the
southwest with a small retinue; lead by the kinsman of the husband
she had never met. At a fork in the road they met a Buddhist
monk leaning on a staff.
“Move
away and let this lady pass, “ commanded the kinsman.
“I
will not!” replied the monk.
“Don’t
make me remove you, brother, for I am a believer, too. But I
am sworn to have my brother’s wife brought to him before tomorrow’s
dusk.”
“I
will not move!” the monk repeated defiantly.
“Because
I am a believer, I will ask you why,” offered the kinsman. “And,
then I will have you thrown into the thicket.”
“I
stand here to prevent your brother, the Prince, from marrying
a foreigner!”
The
kinsman, who only believed in Buddha, because the monasteries
gave him taxes, instructed two soldiers to throw the monk into
the thicket. The monk neither protested nor cried out, and the
entourage continued on.
A
few hours later, the entourage came to another fork in the road.
Again, a monk stood in the middle of the intersection leaning
on a staff.
“Move
away and let this lady pass, “ commanded the kinsman.
“I
will not!” replied the monk.
“Don’t
make me remove you, brother, for I am a believer, too. But I
am sworn to have my brother’s wife brought to him before tomorrow’s
dusk.”
“I
will not move!” the monk repeated defiantly.
“Because
I am a believer, I will ask you why,” offered the kinsman. “And,
then I will have you thrown into the thicket.”
“I
stand here to greet the lady who will marry the Prince!” said
the monk. “And, to convert her to our religion.”
“Then,
you may greet her, brother monk,” the kinsman commanded.
“Lady,
welcome to this land, “ the monk, in well-sewn but plain robes,
bowed. “The Lord Buddha favors this land. Will you learn from
me?”
“I
do not care for your prating words, monk!” replied the noblewoman
angrily.
The
kinsman apologized to the monk, but the lady commanded that
the monk be thrown into the thicket. The kinsman complied half-heartedly,
and the entourage continued.
The
next day the entourage reached yet another fork in the road.
Again, a monk in a loincloth sat in the middle of the intersection
in the lotus position.
“Move
away and let this lady pass, “ commanded the kinsman.
“I
will not!” replied the monk in a whisper.
“Don’t
make me remove you, brother, for I am a believer, too. But I
am sworn to have my brother’s wife brought to him before tomorrow’s
dusk.”
“I
will not move!” the monk repeated in a whisper.
“Because
I am a believer, I will ask you why,” offered the kinsman. “And,
then I will have you thrown into the thicket.”
“I’m
meditating,” whispered the monk. “Please, go away!”
“Why
do you meditate in the middle of the road, monk?” hissed the
noblewoman from her palanquin.
“Because
the thicket is too tangled,” replied the monk.
“Will
you not move?” repeated the kinsman.
“My
duty is more important than yours,” the monk whispered. The
kinsman apologized to the monk, but the lady commanded that
the monk be thrown into the thicket. The kinsman complied half-heartedly,
and the entourage continued.
In
the afternoon the entourage reached the capital city. The Prince
greeted his kinsman, who instructed his brother to escort the
noblewoman to a plain house. There the noblewoman rested, and
in the morning prepared for her wedding.
The
morning she dreaded arrived, and she entered the gates of the
city resignedly. In the center of the square stood the monk.
She realized all three monks had been the same man. She could
not conceal her distaste. His kinsman stood behind him, smirking.
“Will
you love the land, the people, and Buddha?” asked the Prince.
“I
will not!“ replied the noblewoman.
“Because
you are not a believer, I will not force you to stay.”
The
kinsman apologized to the noblewoman, but the Prince commanded
that the lady be escorted back to her father‘s house. The kinsman
complied half-heartedly, and the entourage returned to the northeast.
Document
3 (translated from Yun
Su-young’s Diary)
Today
is the worst day of my life. My father has forbidden me to see
my boyfriend after he found out from a co-worker about us. How
could Mr. An just tell my father those lies? That I was wearing
lewd clothing and flirting with a lot of men! My mother agrees,
too. She hates my father, but he pays the bills. He spends so
much on girls and soju, but he has a good family and a job.
My boyfriend is not a soldier, but my father called me a club
girl and a whore.
I
will not dishonor my family. I will comply. I am so weak.
Cooper
returned to the burning feeling gnawing inside his stomach and
chest. At least if he could convince the translator, a Korean-American,
he might have a chance with the detective. “The ash?”
“Yeah,
so?” the young man fidgeted, but professionally endured.
“Too
much material for a cigarette, right? I mean the seat was coated
in it!”
“We
got there late. The cops were smoking and probably spoiled the
site on purpose.”
“No!
I bet that debris is more than tobacco. It’s human!” Cooper
was serious.
The
translator looked around nervously. “You’re insane! What, like
murder?” He kept craning his neck around, even though no one
else in the room understood English. “Murder? You think this
guy was killed?”
Cooper
stared at him coldly. “He spontaneously combusted.”
The
Korean-American swayed backwards as if punched. “Let’s go, Cooper!
No one will ever know you just said that.”
Cooper
was not moving. “It has happened! No weapons, no blood
stains, nothing!”
“It
was a good job! Now let’s go! Before someone learns English!”
“That
asshole will not bury this in a computer file as a suicide due
to jilted love! This guy had issues, but he was dealing with
it, like an artist. He was creating something! A story or a
play, something where reason and feeling can get mixed into
something bigger. Something people can watch and learn from
and discuss! He was on to something! And, he just exploded!
Imploded! Red hot and like a super nova.”
The
translator just stared at him incredulously. “I…”
“The
blood stains? My thoughts, too.” Cooper pulled the hand-written
note from the file folder. “They’re not steady and coherent.
They’re not even remotely like letters. There are no blots,
either. You know what they are?” The translator just shook his
head mechanically. “He bit his nails! He was biting his nails
and his cuticles scrapped across the paper as he wrote! Good,
huh?”
“Yeah,
brilliant…”
“He’s
talking about teaching here, not love. Rich? He’s talking about
money! We got a young Grisham here! What the hell is he doing
in Korea for!”
The
translator scoffed, too, but only to go along. Finally, though,
he reached down and closed the file folder. All the papers were
bulging and falling back out, but he managed to throw the whole
mess on the table with two hands. “This is Korea, goddamn it!
The truth doesn’t matter! The punk is probably in the Philippines
by now. Get your lunatic ass out of this squad room before you
go down in flames. The Korean wins! Give him his fucking suicide!”
Cooper
was jolted back into his predicament.
The
translator tried to arrange the paperwork in the file better.
“You know what it’s like to be in this fucking job, when others
get transferred all over the world. ‘Hey, you! You know Korean!’
‘Ha ha! No shit! No fucking big deal!’ Swallow it, Cooper! You
get to leave here. I have to stay here with people like you
for the rest of my goddamn cursed life! People go up and people
go down! I live here!”
The
translator knew Cooper would leave, eventually. It just took
a little head knocking. He would be fine, the translator thought.
“Sorry, ladies! He needs a drink!”
They
both left the building, only thirty minutes after they entered.
The translator wondered, why they had wasted so much time on
such a routine case.
We want to hear what you think of our
advertisers. For Information about our advertising policies and rates
or to offer feedback about one of our sponsors, please visit our Sponsorship
Page