The Island of Sea Women(99)

“A woman who dies alone in the water has no one to hold her hand or stroke her forehead,” Shaman Kim began. “Her skin grows cold with no one to warm her. She receives no comfort from friends or family. But we also know that when the dead express concerns about the living, then it is accepted that they have become free of their grid of sorrows. Let us see what Wan-soon has to say.” Shaman Kim was known for her ability to sweet-talk, compliment, and negotiate with spirits. Now she addressed Wan-soon directly. “If you were unhappy for some reason, tell us, so we can help you.”

The assistants clanged their improvised cymbals and drums. The aromas from the offerings filled our noses. Shaman Kim twirled in her colorful hanbok. Her handmade tassels flew. Suddenly she and her assistants halted in midmovement. Silence fell over us, like the pause between hiccups. The cause: Mi-ja had entered the cave and was standing with her back against the jagged wall. She was dressed modestly, and she cradled offerings in her arms. She’d known Wan-soon since she was a baby, but her presence was thoroughly unsettling.

The banging and clanging resumed. Shaman Kim slashed her knives through the air even more ferociously. She slowed, came to a stop, and went into a trance. When she next spoke, her voice seemed to come at us from far away. Wan-soon had arrived.

“I am so cold,” she said. “I miss my mother and father. I miss my aunt and uncle. I miss the haenyeo in our bulteok. I miss my friend.”

The shaman changed back to her regular voice. “Tell us, Wan-soon, of your grievous miseries.”

But in those days even spirits had to be careful what they said, and Wan-soon’s spirit refused to impart another word. This seemed terribly disconcerting. Then something even more unnerving occurred. Shaman Kim twirled in my direction and stopped in front of me.

“I nearly lost my life in the sea,” Shaman Kim said in a different voice as another trance came over her. “I was greedy.”

Yu-ri! How many times had I asked Shaman Kim to look for her, my husband, and son, only to be given silence?

“I suffered for many years,” Yu-ri said through the shaman’s mouth. “Then came my last day of life. Aigo!”

The agony in that sound was chilling. Do-saeng sobbed for her daughter.

Then a small voice spoke. “I miss my mother. I miss my brother and my sisters.”

I collapsed. Sung-soo.

Min-lee knelt beside me and put an arm around my shoulders. Others also fell to their knees and lowered their foreheads to the cave’s floor. We had come for Wan-soon, but I was the one being contacted.

Shaman Kim could never sound like my husband, but I recognized his cadence and careful way of speaking. “It’s crowded in this grave, but I’m grateful for the company. We share our anguish together.”

Then it was as if the three people I’d lost were fighting to find space in Shaman Kim’s mouth to relay their thoughts.

“I was a child who only wanted his father. I was innocent, they killed me, but I have found forgiveness.”

“I was a girl who once longed for marriage. I was innocent, they killed me, but I have found forgiveness.”

“I was a husband, father, and brother. I was innocent, they killed me, but I have found forgiveness.”

Then Shaman Kim sang the things I’d long wanted to tell them. “To my son, I wish I could have protected you. To my sister-in-law, I’m sorry for your years of affliction. And to my husband, I say a baby was growing inside me even when I wished to die. We could not give any of you a proper burial, but at least I know you’re together.”

Now Shaman Kim returned to herself to address the spirits directly. “The three of you are not hungry ghosts in the sense you were lost at sea, but you died terribly and away from your ancestral home.” Then she shifted her attention back to the person who’d brought us here today. “Please, Wan-soon, find comfort in the presence of the others from Hado.” Addressing all of us, she said, “Let us together allow our tears to flow as I ask the Dragon Sea God to help Wan-soon’s spirit travel to the Afterworld, where she can reside in peace.”

The ceremony continued, with offerings, music, tears, and singing. It was not our way to question the shaman or who might send messages through her, but I did wonder at the reason the people I’d lost had chosen this occasion to visit. To hear the voices of those I’d loved stirred my soul. I was grateful. At the same time, I could taste the bitterness I felt toward Mi-ja. When I looked for her, she was gone. Why had she come?



* * *



Haenyeo have no choice but to provide for their families, so the next day Do-saeng and I returned to the bulteok. Min-lee had school, so she didn’t come, which was just as well. Gu-ja took her usual place, and her sister sat beside her. Gu-sun looked as if she hadn’t slept in a month. This was a part of mourning I understood well. But Gu-ja’s appearance was shocking. The tragedy had caused her sun-etched wrinkles to cut even deeper, making her look older than my mother-in-law. Her hands shook, and her voice trembled when she spoke.

“Long ago our collective had an accident, and our chief was haunted by it. Sun-sil should have stepped aside. She didn’t, and months later she died in the sea.” Those old enough to remember my mother nodded gravely at the memory. “As chief of this collective, I accept responsibility for what happened to Wan-soon. For this reason, I now ask for nominations for a new chief.”