Beasts of a Little Land(18)
The rickshaw driver started jogging, and the chaos of the station gradually receded.
“Are we going to go through the gate?” Jade asked, speaking up for the first time since leaving home.
“Why, of course we are,” Dani said. “A gate doesn’t cease to be a gate just because there are no walls around it. How else would you know you’ve arrived in Seoul?
“And besides, there’s nothing like going through an arch to raise your spirits. Just remember that when you’re down,” she said gleefully. Her ability to find strangely uplifting things was another one of her peculiar talents. “Here we go—you’ll see what I mean!”
And Jade did shiver with an inexplicable elation as the rickshaw passed under the arch and came out on the other side.
4
The Orphan
1918
EARLIER ON THE SAME DAY WHEN THE GIRLS ENTERED THE CITY, A BOY had also gone through the Great South Gate. The night before, he’d parted ways with some traveling merchants who had taken him in for a few weeks in exchange for carrying a pack and running small errands. They had given him two pennies, enough for sleeping in a communal room at the inn and a bowl of broth. Instead, he headed to a ditch by the side of the road just outside the Gate, resolving to eat only when he no longer had any strength left. Once he found a rounded groove on the ground, he curled himself on his side and hugged his knees to the chest. As if they’d been waiting for him, soft strands of green foxtail gently bent over him like a coverlet. The boy looked sideways up at the sky, which was richly black and resplendent with stars.
His father had been a man of few words, but before he died, he’d said that looking at the sky could make you fearless against anything. He had been a formidable hunter, but toward the end of his life he couldn’t walk out of his room. No matter what, take care of your sisters, he’d said, lying helplessly in his cot. Only the sprig of gray hair stood out from the rest of his body, which was as thin as a shadow. You’re the head of the family now. If you need courage, just look at the sky.
When the stars went to bed, the boy awoke to the smell of the sun warming up the earth. He rubbed his eyes and crawled out from the ditch to get his first good look at the city, which was then drenched in liquid orange light. Summer dawn in Seoul was electrifying but short, almost nonexistent. The scorching sun hurled itself above the horizon, drying the dewdrops in seconds, and the city rose up as if obeying its commands. Already, there was a line of carts, travelers, and laborers entering and leaving the Great South Gate. The boy cautiously joined the crowd going into the city. No one questioned his presence or even looked at him. He safely snuck underneath the cool shade of the arch and came out on the other side, to a wide road buzzing with streetcars and lined with tall, stately buildings in Western style. And though weak with hunger, he couldn’t help but smile. He reached for the drawstring pouch in his pocket and gave it a friendly squeeze, feeling the two pennies, a silver ring, and a cigarette case inside.
There were many mansions on both sides of the avenue that he thought were Christian houses, though in fact most belonged to government offices, consulates, and trading companies. On the streets, Koreans in white mixed with the Japanese in black. Then there were officers in uniform on horseback, around whom all the others swiveled past with discreet self-consciousness like schools of fish around patrolling sharks. The boy even caught sight of a couple of white men, their long, powerful legs sticking out of a rickshaw that was being pulled by a thin older man. Sweat dripped down from under his head scarf along his earthy face, and landed with a splash on the yellow dirt road or on top of his own feet. The image of his father came into the boy’s mind, even as the rickshaw sped away from him and disappeared into the crowd.
The sun was beating down hard already, and his throat was dry to the point of closing up. He swallowed a few times, but barely a drop of spit went down his throat. Before he could do anything else, he would need to find water. In every country hamlet, there was a well near the village tree where the women came to fetch water for the day. One only had to look for the tallest tree or follow wherever girls were headed, balancing a large clay jug on their heads. Here, there were no trees anywhere, just endless streets filled with every type of human being except young girls fetching water. He spotted a matron carrying a basket nearby, and caught up to her.
“Excuse me, Aunt, where can I get some water?” His words came out dry and rusty as nails, and the woman went on her way without even slowing down for a moment. The next two people he approached also kept walking as though they hadn’t heard him. He had thought that the latter, who looked like a university student, would surely stop and say something. When the youth also coldly passed him by, the boy felt all the blood rush down from his head, making it hard to stay on his feet. He found a piece of shade under the eaves of a building and plopped down on his bottom, making no effort to soften his landing—so drained was he of any energy. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. One of the traveling merchants had done so when he was especially tired, and the gesture had impressed the boy as soothing, but not shameful or childish.
“You from the country?”
The boy put his hands down and looked up to see another boy around his age.
“I’m not,” the boy instinctively lied.
“What’s your name?”
“Nam JungHo.”