The monotonous subway ride to work. It a daily
drill. On each subway platform, there are three
arrows grouped together, two outer arrows pointing
in and the center arrow pointing out, indicating
where each door opens. When I hear the bell ring
for the arriving train, I take my place directly
in front of the middle arrow pointing out, waiting
for the vortex of people to
swirl around me. Odd; I know I should wait patiently
to either side of the two outer arrows pointing
in, but I do not. If I'm lucky, I get a seat.
One morning, I entered the train with
great speed and precision. Thus it was possible
to procure a seat. As I adjusted comfortably
into my seat, many more people streamed into
the train. Normally, it is quite easy to spot
the traveling talkers. The salespeople with
their large bags full of 1000 won priced merchandise.
Any and every thing, from batteries to cheap,
plastic binoculars. But that morning, I encountered
a new kind of travelling talker. It was one
I had never seen before in Korea.
Suddenly, a middle aged woman's voice
can be heard above the noise. "People, please
hear me for a moment." I look to see what she's
selling. She holds up what looks like pamphlets.
She doesn't have a huge bag beside her. I lose
what she's saying in the quick paced Korean
and the drone of the subway. In between pieces
of Korean, I hear "Jesus". More Korean, and
then "Jesus". The dawn of comprehension. She's
a preacher. A traveling preacher circuiting
the circuitous green line of Seoul's underworld.
Her message is of hope and love, of redemption.
I watch her. I hear the determination and passion
in her voice. She cannot be swayed by the vast
indifference of the commuting crowd. Three old
men dressed in hiking attire sitting in front
of
me, talking excitedly. A young, smartly dressed
woman beside me putting finishing touches to
her make-up. An office worker reading a newspaper.
A student talking on his phone. A young woman
with earphones, absorbed in music. A man sleeping,
wearing the effects of the previous night's
alcohol. All these people, and no one deems
her and her message worthy of attention.
Soon, the woman's voice is drowned out
by the PA system announcing the next stop, and
the sound of a twittering bird indicating a
rotary. When you hear a bird twittering as if
in a peaceful meadow, do not be fooled. This
only indicates the relative peace of commuters
exiting and entering at offbeat stations will
be shattered by the hordes of hurried commuters
waiting at the next stop.
As those about me exit, and others enter,
I lose sight of the preaching woman. After everyone
has settled in and the train is on its way again,
I hear the familiar cadence of the preaching
woman's voice. "Jesus" can be heard above the
grinding of subway's steel wheels rushing along
the tracks. A new set of faces beside me, but
amazingly it's the same reaction. Utter indifference
to the woman's message of peace, love, and hope.
All her words of redemption and sacrifice seem
to fall on deaf ears.
Soon after, the PA rudely interrupts
the talking woman again. Passengers enter and
leave. The woman's strong, resonant, and confident
voice again calls out to the new set of passengers.
All her words seem doomed to reverbrate the
corridors of a train which might as well have
been empty.
Then, her words of Christian brotherhood
are emphasized and beautified by the sound of
gospel music. Did she also bring a boom box
to highlight her sermon? I realize this is not
so because the music is coming from the far
end of the train. A man wearing rags emerges
from the crowd, wearing sunglasses, carrying
a cane in one hand, and in the other, a box
full of
coins and small bills. Over his shoulder, he
carries a makeshift music maker. He walks carefully,
lurching with the movement of the subway. A
breed of subway beggar. Those who earn their
living walking, limping, or crawling through
subways.
The woman's voice is quieted. She stands
aside, her eyes gleaming and sparkling black,
her hands clenching the pamphlets by her side.
Her voice is shut out by the steel bars formed
of her lips. The beggar continues to shuffle
along his way. He is past her, moving towards
another compartment. As the door clangs shut
behind him, the woman's voice again arises with
the
oscillating O shape of her mouth, preaching
a messages of love, sympathy, redemption, and
compassion. All I hear are the words "Jesus"
above the sounds of the subway.
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