I still find it strange that in a city so big, I can often feel so alone. Today I do not want to be at work. I want to be at home, tucked away under the covers, letting my brain rest. I'm tired of socializing, I'm tired of talking and thinking and doing. I just want to rest.
Each day's a new day. It's time for a change.
While sitting having coffee with Eunjung this afternoon, I was reminded of a story that had slipped entirely to the back of my mind. She was telling me of how over the period of three years, she had gone to temples and built many 돌탑 -- small stone pagodas that you build and make a wish on; if it falls over while you are building it, then your wish will not come true. She wished to go overseas to Canada or the U.S.A. Three years later, her wish came true and she travelled through India and parts of Southern Asia, and then moved to Boston for a year. Though it seems hard to believe, she told me that she would like to think that the 돌탑 had something to do with the wish coming true.
When Charlie passed away, I spent a week in shock meandering around Seoul, trying to come terms with death and the way that I felt about my path and my actions at that time. The very next weekend, I headed down with a group of other unknown foreigners to Gyeongju City, in Gyeongsangbuk-do. It was a beautiful adventure, as the mountains were covered in a wild spread of reds and oranges and yellows. My mind was for once peacefully quiet, enjoying the absence of honking and drunken screaming. The highlight of the trip, however, was our visit to Bulguksa Temple, a beautiful working temple on the side of a mountain at the outskirts of the city. I trekked through the temple grounds, looked on as several monks followed through in prostrations, took in the solitude that I felt in all of it. I know he would have loved to have seen something like that in his short but very spiritual lifetime. At the back of the temple was a huge pagoda garden, with hundreds of 돌탑 built by visitors to the temple over the years. The monks had brought out more rocks for the newcomers, so I sorted through and picked out a handful of what seemed like strong rocks and started building. I built three or four 돌탑, knelt down and made a long, strong wish for Charlie's peace, and for my own peace. All I wanted was to be able to move forward with peace in both of our lives.
It's been nearly 7 months now, and I'm starting to believe that perhaps my wish is coming true. It's still in the makings, but I do believe I'm beginning to come to terms with such emotions as stability and contentment in my life. I used to find Korea so strange, an almost vast wasteland which I would never consider my home. Charlie's death had a huge part in making this country feel so uncomfortable. With time, though, I now find myself walking down the streets not even noticing how different I probably am from many of the people beside me. I don't imagine life at home. I don't know what it would be like, but I guess it doesn't matter, as I just don't think about it. I do strongly dislike my job, but the time that I spend outside of the workplace makes up for all those ugly feelings.
Ju has been an enormous help in all of this. It's strange, but I feel as though in just one month, he has become one of my best friends. I trust him. I can laugh easily, and loudly with him. I share stories that I don't feel comfortable telling other people. Silence is not wasted when I am with him, it is enjoyed. He is by far the most easy-going, down to earth, friendly Korean guy I have met since first arriving here. I can't help but feel like there's some element of fate involved in all of this. I got back from Japan, stunned by how amazing and outgoing and unafraid all of my brother's Japanese family were, only to meet Ju. I didn't feel like going to volunteer at a children's center, but I gave it a chance -- and it gave something back to me. Ju gives me that same sort of joy that I felt while in Japan. That it's okay to be me. In fact, that he wants me to be nothing else but me. It's given me a whole new outlook on Korea. I am so glad to have him as a friend. On Sunday, I went out to Shitaewon to play some pool and have some drinks with he and a friend of his, another English teacher by the name of Gary -- hilarious dude from Austin, Texas. Gary reminds me of everyone I hung out with when I was 17. Just a downright, dirty, free spirited travelling man who kept saying 'It's your choice, my friend'. Except he's in his forties (I think) and has been living in Korea for 15 years so he's got a lot of information to offer me. Anyway we were talking and he too agreed that Ju is one of his best friends here. Interestingly enough, the biggest compliment I heard from him was that there were actually very few people out there who he wanted to genuinely teach -- but Ju was a person who he wanted to share and teach everything to. As I told Ju afterwards, you're a lucky person if you have one guy like that on your side, always promoting your goodness. Anyway, I felt at home that night. Two guy who just got it. It's been awhile (Lis) since I felt like someone really got it.
I go to the gym now. I'm not a gym person. But there is something to be said for going to the gym. It gives me energy, it definitely improves my spirits. I'm trying to aim for three to four times a week. I never imagined myself doing that but I am now, and I'm really happy about it. I can feel my body changing, and it's been too long of a wait for that to happen. I volunteer at a low-income children's center. I was definitely hesitant at first, didn't want to give up my time, freedom and energy to teach more English. But I love the students, I get the feeling maybe they even like me too, and I enjoy giving back to people. It's a lot better of a way, for me, to spend my Saturdays -- rather then sleeping the day away. I've met many new Korean friends in the last few weeks, through International Friends Day and through volunteering and whatnot. I've got many people to hang out with and to help me start a life here in Korea. I have something to do all the time -- whether it be to go to a concert, or do a barefoot marathon, or pick up trash in the park with kids. It feels good to be busy, and not party busy, but real work. This is what I have been looking for for a long time. Satisfaction is completely underrated.
My job is tough. I'm starting to realize that as I inch closer to celebrating a year anniversary since I first came to this country to teach English. At my school, my classes are wholly made up of younger, immature students who are either lazy, uninterested or only just beginning their studies in the English language. I'm still somewhat unsure as to how I got assigned to these classes. I know that there are multiple factors at work here -- as I am the only permanent female middle school teacher, I know I am expected to be more of a nurturing caregiver, therefore somehow more willing to do a larger portion of babysitting. When I questioned my boss as to why I was being assigned these classes, she said it was because I had more energy than the other teachers and thus would be able to handle these more wild, energetic students. These are only some of the reasons. I'm struggling though, finding it difficult each day to command some sort of respect from these students. Granted, I can tell that they probably only understand about 30% of what I say and teach to them. Still, half of the time when I ask them questions in English, they respond in Korean, and in almost every class I have to write answers on the board to make sure that they take down correct answers -- more or less so I know that they will have something appropriate written down to show their enthusiastic parents. I'm exhausted these days, and find it a challenge to go to work. My Korean co-teacher, a lovely woman who works so hard with little to no appreciation, is quitting soon. I can feel it. And I'm beginning to feel the same way. A sort of hopeless cloud surrounds my desk and I try to push it off but at the end of the day, when I clock out at 11 pm and walk home, I just feel so useless. Anyone could do this job, and it wouldn't matter. The students would leave exactly as how they entered, no smarter, if not just a little bit stupider.
Today in one of my higher level classes, GR1, my students spent the entire class looking at me blankly. They held no qualms in telling me how boring the class was -- despite the fact that I always give them time to study for their tests at the end of the class, despite the fact that I play games with them and give them chocolate bars if they win, and I too often turn a blind eye to their speaking in Korean and their fucking around in class. Still, beyond all that, they hemmed and hawed and sighed and complained. If it had been any other foreign teacher they would have been in hot water. But instead I gave up. I let them study for the rest of class and used the time to try and figure out new ways to teach the lesson for my next class. But I was really upset at this.
In the last five minutes of this interminable class, I kneeled down to speak with one student, Jinny, who I've had for 2 semesters now. As she looked upset, I asked her what was wrong. She said she was tired because she didn't have her coffee that day. She told me she has at least 1 or 2 coffees a day. She's 14. She goes to bed at 2 and wakes up at 6:30 every day. She's 14 and she gets 4 and a half hours of sleep.
I'm just so frustrated. I'm upset because I don't know how people can let this go on, how people can appreciate this and truly believe that their children, the leaders of the future are living the best possible lifestyle, one that somehow will inevitably lead to some form of success and satisfaction (or perhaps early deaths and mid-life breakdowns). I want to change it so badly, I want to make a difference. But the system is just too big, too engrained within the world here. It's like drowning. I can't give too much of myself anymore. I have to repress my passion to make a change, because it just doesn't matter. And that breaks my heart.
This weekend has been quiet. Relaxingly, peacefully quiet. I needed that. Some time to process who I am and how I'm changing -- and everything that comes wrapped up in all of that. It was nice.
One thing though. On this crisp Sunday afternoon, I joined my friends Habiba, K'san and their respective boys on a trip to the Jogesya Buddhist temple near Insadong for a screening of the documentary film 63 Years On. Put on by the Sharing House of Korea, it was a powerful tribute to the women who were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese government from the 1930's on into World War II.
There is so much that I should, and need to recount about what I have learned today in becoming part of this community, one with those who are moving together to demand emotional compensation and peace for those who suffered at the hands of the military.
Prior to World War II, it had been found that a large percentage of members of the Japanese military were suffering from various STD's. As the nation prepared to expand and conquer land across the Asian continent, it became clear that the government would have to establish a system that would allow soldiers to engage in healthy and yet still stimulating sexual intercourse. The first 'comfort station' was opened in 1932 in China. It is said that the first women to work at the station were Japanese prostitutes. But Japanese expansionism worked faster than expected, and before long there were comfort stations all across Asia -- from the Philippines to Indonesia to Laos and Cambodia to Korea and Japan -- and there were simply not enough prostitutes to provide for the soldiers. So the government turned to the streets and kidnapped women, often bribing them with the hope for better money to support their families, only to force them into these sexual stations.
The film showed the stories of 5 different women who were victims of this tragedy. One was from Korea -- she had scars all over her body from where Japanese soldiers had tortured her when she had tried to run away. She admitted on camera that she had been pregnant, and the soldiers had tried to beat the baby out of her, blaming her for getting pregnant. In order to prevent further pregnancies, they removed her uterus. Then they seared her breasts and used a cattle iron on her back and bum. She spoke out in both fear and anger. She had been lucky enough to not only survive through that, but as well to meet a good man who married her and made a family with her. Due to the beatings, she was unable to have children, and so she adopted. It was years before she returned to Korea, however.
Another story was from a Dutch woman who had been living in Indonesia with her family. She was taken away by the Japanese military when she was a teenager. She kept going back to the first night she was brought to the comfort station. She was raped not once but at least 3 or 4 times by different soldiers. Such information was not unusual either -- many of the women who were kept at such camps were forced to have sex with as many as twenty to forty men a day.
She shared a shocking story about the doctor who came to their camp. The women were subjected at random moments to visit the doctor, so as to ensure they were STD-free. Her story began by reminding us how much trust we put in doctors -- they are healers, the ones who, in the very least, work to make it better, make the pain go away. Unfortunately, this was not true for her. The doctor examined her with the doors and windows open, inviting the Japanese soldiers to look on. Upon finishing his check-up, he then raped her. There was noone to trust.
The Dutch woman had wanted to be a nun when she was a child, but after being a sexual slave to the Japanese military, she knew she could never follow that dream. She married, but admitted that she could never enjoy sex again -- even with her husband.
There are so many more stories. They said that it is estimated 200,000 women were put into these comfort stations, and many of them did not make it out alive. Those who did were abandoned at the end of the war. Many Korean women were left in countries such as the Philippines, with no knowledge of the language or the culture and no idea where to even begin in rebuilding some semblance of a life for themselves. It was years upon years -- 1991, when the first woman, what they now call 'Grandmothers' -- Grandma Kim Hak Soon, came out and publicly talked about what she and so many others had undergone. It has been a slow and painful process, but other such victims have stood up and created a movement pushing for the Japanese government to apologize. THEY HAVE NOT. In 2007, the prime minister Shinzo Abe denied that these women had been forced into sexual enslavement. The education minister at the time had much of the information about such women erased from textbooks. The U.S and Canada both approved motions urging the Japanese government to make a formal apology. But little to nothing has been done by the Japanese government and so these grandmothers continue fighting, hoping that they will find peace before their passing.
It was pure trickery that seeped out of the WWII Japanese government. The argument behind comfort stations was that men of the military needed to have some form of pleasure in order to quell their rebellious attitudes. The government even provided condoms, labelled as 'Attack 1 condoms', and lubrication. From the outside, it all looked like another ordinary brothel system that would only help to make the Japanese army stronger and happier than all others.
It hurts for me to even write about it. These women suffered through our worst nightmares. I am so fortunate to be so far away from anything like this. There is now a home for these women here in Korea -- a place called the Sharing House. As the grandmothers grow older, it has become harder and harder for them to share their stories. Their message will live on forever though. The people, including myself -- the community who gathered today -- now have their stories engrained within their hearts and these women will never be forgotten.
A volunteer who put together the screening asked that these women not be called 'Comfort Women' anymore -- because nothing that they experienced was comfortable. These women are to be called grandmothers, or survivors. I respect that absolutely.
We live in a modern world, but this nightmare has not passed. Sexual trafficking is still a major problem. As one volunteer quoted, there are some countries where it is believed that 1 in 4 women will be subjected to sexual trafficking. There is so much to be done. Demanding for an apology for the grandmothers is just a step.
Being there today, with the men and women who both cried and raised a fist against the treatment of these women, made me realize how much work there is to be done. We must look back at the past and change the future starting now. There are resources, but we must stop teaching how to use them in a negative light and starting practicing in the positive.
I really want to save the world.
http://www.nanum.org/eng/index.html
Back in Korean classes. Again. Learning the Korean alphabet. Again. Major deja vu, which makes me wonder if something bad is going to happen in just a short amount of time. I feel that lightening can only strike once a year on your heart though, so I'm crossing my fingers I'll be protected through the summer. I'm on a Korean language kick, though, which is exciting as I haven't really been interested in studying or pursuing it at all over the last few months. Suddenly I'm looking through vocabulary and finding extra books to study in at night, listening to podcasts and using whatever I can get off the tip of my tongue that somehow seems right. I'm proud of myself for making an effort again. It's easy the first time, but the second time around is like walking with a broken knee. Just keep shaking until you heal and regrow. (Does that make sense at all?)
In other news, after a whirlwind round of shopping with Jenn - wherein we both decided that we have never been such materialistic spenders since living in this country - she finally gave in, and we are going to the gym, starting next week. It's a big decision for me. I'm not a gym person. But as my mom always told me, it's best to find a friend to go to the gym with. The gym (at least for me) just doesn't seem to be one of those solo places. Particularly in a country where you don't speak their language -- YET. I'm excited to start the process of getting into shape. It's been a long time coming, and I think my body really needs it. It will definitely make me feel a lot better about myself. But it will suck...Oh how it will suck the first week.
That's all for now. Not very interesting, but somehow I still feel FAR too busy and my life seems overwhelmingly filled with things to do. I like it that way. Today, I am satisfied.
