tales from Korea

The time is close to Chuseok, the three day festival in Korea where people come back to their hometown, meet their family members and visit tombs of those who have passed away. They greet their ancestors with gifts of food and pay their respects, asking for a good harvest season – a tradition in Korea.

Saturday night, JaYeon’s mom spent almost the whole day preparing the food that will be presented to the family’s ancestors the next day, leaving it out on the kitchen table with candles. It is forbidden to eat any of the food before being presented to their ancestors. We woke early Sunday morning, the air was cool and fresh, we loaded the car with the food and other materials necessary for the day. The journey was going to be long, three separate memorial parks in three very different areas. The first was in Bundang itself, and we arrived there in 30 minutes. After parking the car and taking out the boxes and bags, we stumbled our way up the rocky enclave to reach the first tomb. Already there was JaYeon’s father’s side family, who were waiting for us before they began. We exchanged greetings, grandmother seemed happy to see me and I met another cousin of JaYeons, a young man just out from his conscription service. Myung-gi took care of laying the large mat out on front of the grave, the responsibility of the first son. With care, he laid out the food, carefully placing the dishes, neatly stacked and evenly spaced. We stood in silence, JaYeon’s uncle stood on the mat first. He kneeled and took the cup from Myung-gi, who poured Soju in one, two and three pours. He then took up the cup and moved it in a circular pattern from left to right, three times and threw it out – in three goes. He then bowed from standing to kneeling, twice, and then a third bow, the last one just standing. JaYeon and her cousins stood next and bowed in harmony, seconds with their foreheads touching the backs of their hands – I wonder what they were thinking of in those brief moments. After finishing, they gestured to me and I stood on the mat on my own – everyone watching. I was then given the cup and after the Soju was poured, I rotated it as before and handed it back to Myung-gi. I bowed twice, almost kneeling for a third time until I was reminding that the last one should be standing. I heard some faint chuckles, the Korean way of saying “Oh he made a little mistake, but it’s so cute” rather than thinking I had, maybe, almost insulted their ancestors and possibly destroyed the harvest for this year.

After we packed up everything, we got back in the car and prepared for the longer journey ahead, JaYeon’s fathers and grandfather’s tomb. JaYeon’s grandfather was originally from North Korea so their graves are located in the most northern point in South Korea, about 2 kilometres south of the DMZ border zone. The drive up passed some lonely South Korean army outposts; we passed under some thick concrete camo painted bridges. “If North Korea attack, they will blow up these bridges and it will block the path with heavy concrete”, very good to know. As we got closer and closer to the memorial park, we passed some signs in Koreans with skull and crossbones, even an entrance to an army base with little skull and crossbones rested on top of the pillars.

“What’s up with the skull and crossbones, are there pirates around?”

“No, that’s the symbol of the South Korean army”.

“Oh right, yeah, that’s perfectly normal”.

We arrived at the park at last, stretched our arms and relieved the stiffness in our backs and bottoms, unpacked the car and moved to the tombs. JaYeon’s grandfathers tomb, lonely, weeds growing between the cover stone and base. Myung-gi trims the bushes around the grave area. I whispered gently to JaYeon, “Who’s in the tomb directly beside your grandfathers? They look like they’re together.” “That one is empty; it’s for my grandmother when she dies”. “What, your grandmother who’s standing beside it right now?” “Yes, of course”. There’s something slightly surreal about having your tomb built and ready for you before you’re even dead. She stared at the tombs silently; I wondered how she must of felt, losing her husband and two sons. I could never imagine. She may even be looking forward, in some small way, for the time she can join them again and take rest beside her husband. We set up the mats and the ceremony began, and ended, without a word, everyone contained in their own thoughts.

We moved onto JaYeon’s father’s tomb, this one was going to difficult for everyone. I thought about how everyone was connected to him, and was shocked to realise how almost everyone here is immediate family. Here stands a wife, a son, a daughter, a mother, a sister, a brother, a brother’s wife, their daughter, and a strange western man. The table again was set up with intricate care, sensitive to the slightest detail. They took turns to bow in silence, staying an extra second on the mats – leaving their own thoughts with him. I paused, breathed in the cool air… dragonflies moved in silent vectors, distant sound of locusts, the only other sounds the occasional tear hitting the mat with a solid thump. I took my time, bowed, and thought about what I knew about him, I felt like not enough. How would he have reacted if he met me? Maybe he would have liked me? But I felt less about me and wondered back to those around me, slightly shocking to see everyone closely affected, tied together in a universal grief.

We packed up and walked back towards the car and set up lunch under a parasol. Everyone in good spirits, we ate Gimbap, kimchi and side dishes, drank Aloe Vera (yes, I know!) and coffee and enjoyed listening and laughing to stories about JaYeon’s cousins’ army training. After we were finished we went to the last grave, a Christian burial ground, we were repeated the same process. Along the way we drove on a road that ran parallel to the DMZ area, across which we could see a river and North Korea.

We enjoyed a glorious meal that night in Incheon. Soju and beer, 19 plates of steak for 10 people, Korean noodles, salads, pumpkin, crab, kimchi.

Chuseok has been an experience of culture I won’t soon forget.