The Island of Sea Women(82)

Many of these things I’d already absorbed without knowing it, but to have them planted so directly gave me purpose. Over time, she turned to advice on how to settle an argument, how to calm the natural jealousy and envy that arose when some divers were better than others, and how to stay alert to dangers that might affect the collective.

“You must keep track of the blood cycles for every woman. Sometimes a woman forgets that her time is coming, but you can whisper a reminder. Our local waters are usually safe, but a shark can smell blood from very far away. One shark, a collective can fight off. But a swarm of sharks . . .” She shook her head. Then, “One of the most difficult duties you will have is to tell a woman who has reached fifty-five that it is time for her to go home to her children and grandchildren.” When I pointed out that she was nearing that age, she said, “Exactly.”

Finally, the diving ban ended. Do-saeng and I returned to the bulteok, and my father and brother came to the house to care for the children. Mi-ja dove with the collective in her part of the village, which was the group she would have joined if my mother hadn’t taken her in. So much malevolence and fighting existed all around us that it came as no surprise that the different enclaves in Hado would take sides. The people of Gul-dong, the section of Hado where I lived, stood with me; the people of Sut-dong, where Mi-ja’s aunt and uncle had cared for her, now felt sorry for her. This, after all the years of thinking her the daughter of a Japanese collaborator. But these were the times we lived in, where villages, families, and friends were divided, and you couldn’t trust anyone. The women’s fishing grounds, which had always been assigned, were now ferociously guarded by the women of the two factions. The sea became a place of territorial battles, old resentments, and continued bitterness. Home became my refuge, the place where I could shut out problems and focus love on my children.



* * *



A year passed and the first anniversary of the massacre at Bukchon arrived. Kyung-soo, not quite two and a half years old, was far too young to hold ancestor worship for his father, aunt, and brother, but his grandfather and uncle helped him. Do-saeng and I cooked for days, and then removed ourselves so the men could have their ceremony. Father guided my son, and together they placed offerings before the three spirit tablets that represented Jun-bu, Yu-ri, and Sung-soo. Neighbors paid their respects, with much weeping.

In a separate ritual, the women in my family and collective went to the field where my mother was buried, since there were no graves for the other people I’d lost. Shaman Kim tapped me with her tassels. I hoped for messages from the dead that would calm my heart, but Jun-bu, Yu-ri, and Sung-soo remained silent. I was terribly disappointed. When the ceremony ended and I rose from my knees and turned to face my neighbors, I saw Mi-ja standing by the entrance to the field. Anger washed through me, flushing my face and constricting my breath. I suspected that her presence was why my loved ones had not sent messages. I walked straight to her.

“You have not allowed me to visit,” Mi-ja said as I neared. “You’ve never given me a chance to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. My husband is dead. My sister-in-law is dead. My firstborn son is dead.”

“I was there. I saw.” She shook her head as if trying to drive out the memories.

“So was I. You told me you had to protect your own family! You wouldn’t even take my children!”

Muted gasps rose up around us. Mi-ja turned red—whether in anger or in humiliation, I couldn’t tell. Then her body stiffened, and her eyes went cold.

“Every family on this island has suffered. You are not the only victim.”

“You were my friend. We were once closer than sisters.”

“What right do you have to accuse me of not saving your family?” she asked. “I’m only a woman—”

“And a haenyeo. You could have been strong. You could have—”

“I ask you again. Who are you to condemn me? Look at your own deeds. Why didn’t you stop Yu-ri from diving down again—”

I staggered back. This woman, whom I’d loved, and who had—through her own actions and inactions—destroyed my family, was using a secret I’d confided to her against me. And she wasn’t done.

“And what about your mother’s death? She was the best haenyeo. She went down with you and didn’t come back to the surface alive. Your kicking caused the abalone to clamp down on her bitchang. And you admitted you were inept with your knife—”

Do-saeng, who for so long I’d believed saw me in a bad light for all the things I was being accused of now, stepped forward. On either side of her were Gu-ja and Gu-sun. They made a powerful trio.

“This is a day of mourning for our family.” Do-saeng’s voice held the authority of a chief haenyeo. “Please, Mi-ja, leave our family alone.”

Mi-ja held still for a few long moments. Only her eyes moved, slowly passing over the faces of people she’d known from childhood. Then she turned, limped out of the field, and disappeared behind the rocky wall. I did not speak to her again for many years.





Big Eyes


1950

Five months later, on June 25, 1950, the north invaded the south. We called this the 6.25 War. Three days later, Seoul fell. On Jeju, the police demanded that all radios be turned in. I did not want to give them the wedding gift I’d bought for my husband. I considered all the places to hide it. Maybe in the granary. Maybe in the pigsty or the latrine. But those ideas were tossed aside when I saw neighbors not only had their carefully hidden radios seized but were arrested and not heard from again. I turned in the radio, and another piece of my husband disappeared.