Dust and Other Stories Read online

  Meanwhile, Kŭmdol was growing impatient. Omongnyŏ had been visiting him eight days out of every ten, but now she was skipping two or even three days at a time. One morning he had gone to the police chief’s house to sell his fish, when he caught sight of her coming out of the night duty room. That’s how he discovered the reason for her less frequent visits. That day Kŭmdol bought five or six measures of rice, as well as soy sauce, firewood, drinking water, and a small iron pot, all of which he brought onto the boat without Omongnyŏ knowing. Then he waited for her to show up.

  Omongnyŏ finally appeared the following evening, carrying her basket. When she jumped in her usual fashion into the boat, where Kŭmdol had been sleeping on a straw mat, he got up and pushed the boat away from shore. He began to row. That evening, the boat landed at a small, deserted island some ten ri away.

  No matter how long Blindman Chi waited, Omongnyŏ did not return home. One day, two days, three days passed, and there was still no sign of her. The old man thought Constable Nam must be playing some kind of trick.

  When Omongnyŏ did not return on the fourth evening, Chi called Constable Nam to his house to have it out with him. He was ranting, “You bastard, if you haven’t hidden her away, then who’s done it? You bastard, you’re killin’ me, how can I live alone when I can’t even see? I don’t care if I have to go to prison for not reportin’ a guest, I’ll file a complaint against you.” Blindman Chi was so angry that he charged at Constable Nam, and even his sealed eyes seemed to blink. Nam was left with no choice but to set some kind of trap. If Omongnyŏ had run away, she was unlikely to return.… And so, in the end, he came up with a plan. He seemed to confess that everything was his fault.

  “I’ve got nothin’ to do with what’s happened to that wife, but I can’t just stand by and do nothin’, can I? I’ll find her in three days. It must be hard for you. I got paid today so I’ll go home and come back with some money. There’s nothin’ to worry about. I’ll have her back in three days …”

  Nam’s behavior seemed reasonable. When he assured Chi he would find her within three days and mentioned his salary, it seemed as if Omongnyŏ had already been found and some money would appear that evening too. Judging from his face, the old man seemed appeased, “Then be on you way …”

  But instead of going home, Constable Nam went to the substation. Once his boss had left and he was alone, he sneaked into the office and took some opium and a bottle of kaoliang liquor, which had been confiscated from a smuggler. When all the lights in the town were dark and everyone had gone to sleep, he went to Blindman Chi’s house.

  Nam: “It’s late, uncle. I went to get a bottle of kaoliang liquor.”

  Chi: “No, where on earth did you get hold of that? You’re a smart one, Constable Nam. I tried some of that once when I crossed the river to the west …”

  Nam: “If word gets out, there’ll be trouble. Shall we go to the backroom?”

  Chi: “Anywhere …”

  And so Blindman Chi was lured into the backroom by the taste of kaoliang liquor.

  Nam: “Now this is strong stuff. I had myself two cups at breakfast yesterday and had to sleep it off.”

  Chi: “Well, it’s best to sleep after a drink. Those travelers I see who drink and don’t sleep, they just don’t seem human. Sleepin’ a few drinks off is the gentleman’s way …”

  Right in front of Chi’s unseeing eyes, Constable Nam mixed the opium into his drink. The blind man collapsed before drinking even three cups of this special kaoliang liquor.

  The constable knew all about the way corpses are examined in order to distinguish between a murder and a suicide, and so he took a kitchen knife and stabbed Blindman Chi clumsily in several places around the throat. In this way, he made it look to someone else as if this were a suicide. The rogue Constable Nam then had another thought. He took Chi’s seal out of his pocket and created a bond of debt. For the amount he wrote forty won, with Blindman Chi as the debtor and himself as creditor. He dated the bond a couple of months previous.

  Blindman Chi’s body was discovered the following afternoon by someone who had come to have their fortune read and then reported it to the substation. The chief’s two subordinates, Constables Yi and Nam, both attended the scene and, after examining the body, concluded without a doubt that the man had committed suicide: he was a blind man, there was no food in the house, and he had clearly grown despondent when his wife had apparently left him. That evening they ordered the district head to have him buried in the public graveyard.

  Constable Nam showed the forged bond of debt for forty won to his boss, and easily took possession of Blindman Chi’s house.

  Omongnyŏ and Kŭmdol enjoyed more than twenty days on the deserted island. With no one to watch her other than the passing birds, this island was paradise, an incomparably ideal environment for the debauched and lustful Omongnyŏ.

  But then the days grew colder and their rice ran low, so that they had to leave their island paradise.

  Omongnyŏ was satisfied with Kŭmdol as her husband, and of course he was happy too, so they promised each other they would return to the town to buy some more provisions and take some household goods without Blindman Chi knowing, and then they would go live in Vladivostok. Thus Omongnyŏ and Kŭmdol returned to Samgŏri for the first time in more than twenty days.

  This was when Omongnyŏ discovered that Blindman Chi was dead. She was overjoyed, as if she had made it to heaven.

  When Constable Nam heard that Omongnyŏ had returned to town he immediately went to see her, worried that the house would cause a problem.

  Nam: “Ah, so what’ve you been up to? Not even knowin’ that the husband’s dead and gone. Well!”

  O: “Good job that! I was in Pangjin, but had to come back again because I’m not so well.”

  Nam: “Pangjin, why? Did you go there to get yourself a husband? Ha, ha!”

  O: “What, one of those good for nothing travelers? Why would I be on the lookout for a husband when there’s Constable Nam now? Mmm! So now I’m a constable’s wife as well.”

  Nam smiled, as if that really were the case.

  Nam: “I’ve bought this house!”

  O: “No! Who sold it?”

  Nam: “Well, who was there to pay for the old man’s burial? We had to do something. So the chief sold me this house to pay for the funeral, and the rest went to public funds.”

  O: “You mean that rest can’t be found anymore?”

  Nam: “Are you crazy or what? The old man died when you went away, I managed to stop them lookin’ for you, they were goin’ to put you on trial, so don’t talk to me like that. If the boss doesn’t get his way, there could still be a trial now …”

  O: “… for that …”

  In this way Constable Nam managed to resolve the problem of the house to his satisfaction.

  Omongnyŏ and Nam looked at each other lovingly for a while without saying a word, while Omongnyŏ thought about that Shandong silk quilt. As a new plan took shape in her mind, she pressed her smiling lips to Constable Nam’s ear, whispered something, and laughed raucously.

  Constable Nam laughed too. It was nothing other than the happy thought of setting up another home in his new house with a concubine. And so that Shandong silk quilt was spread in Blindman Chi’s backroom that night.

  However, Constable Nam did not show up, even as the night grew dark. Omongnyŏ heard later that his wife had given birth. Instead, Omongnyŏ and Kŭmdol took advantage of this opportunity to move everything worth possessing to the boat, including the Shandong silk quilt, the pots, and even clothing.

  And then the newlyweds Omongnyŏ and Kŭmdol set sail for Vladivostok for good.

  Translated from Sidae ilbo, July 13, 1925

  MR. SON, OF GREAT WEALTH

  Mr. Son is quite the popular guy in Sŏngbuk-dong. There’s nowhere he fails to show up whenever something’s going on: whether it’s a wedding or a funeral, clearing out a plot of land or digging a well, or even in the midst of the hubbub th
at arises when somebody’s child falls over and gets hurt. He has no fixed occupation but is a stroller by nature who enjoys chatting with others, and even though you may sometimes hear some inappropriate gossip when he calls out nonsense to you, on the whole there’s no one better suited to a lively occasion than Mr. Son. It’s his habit to go running toward any conspicuously loud sound of a creaking gate, and if something’s going on that demands a lively atmosphere, whether wedding or funeral, the people here invariably go and fetch him to their homes themselves.

  Yet I have never seen him stumble around drunk or fail to turn around at once to politely greet the slightest acquaintance who happens to pass by, no matter how enthusiastically he might be chatting away with someone else. “On your way to the office?” “Finished work now?” He always greeted me morning and night, even before we got to know each other.

  I’ve forgotten now whether it was one day in the spring or early summer of last year when Mr. Son came to our house for the first time.

  “Is anybody at home? U-um …”

  He walked into our yard, chattering as if to himself and carrying a large piece of board, which if it were a book would be about four to six times the usual size.

  “Welcome.”

  “Oh, so sir is here, that’s good timing.”

  “What is that?”

  “Well, uh …”

  He blinked and grinned for a while before saying,

  “I came to ask whether you might write on a nameplate for me.”

  “My goodness, what kind of nameplate has to be so huge?”

  “Well, I can’t just write my name, can I? There are other kinds of things that need to be written now.”

  “Other kinds of things?”

  “Would you mind writing down what I say?”

  Without further ado I fetched a brush and ink stone out onto the veranda and took hold of his piece of board.

  “Okay, so tell me what you want me to write.”

  “Hold on a minute …”

  He glanced back toward the gate and waved his hands, as if to chase some kind of animal away,

  “Oh, darn it … damn kids …”

  I turned around to see his two sons, who were always traipsing around in a line on his tail. One of them poked his head around the gate briefly, all the while sniffling and swallowing his own mucus, and then a second one poked his head around before disappearing again.

  “I see your children have followed you.”

  “Oh, I can’t even take a shit without those damn kids coming after me.”

  “Let them be, what does it matter? Please, tell them to come in.”

  He called out to them,

  “Come on in then.”

  And he tutted.

  At close glance one of them looked to be around ten years old and the other five or six, but both their faces were the spitting image of their father’s: eyebrows thin and eyes as long and narrow as blades of oat grass, but with broad catfish grins.

  “So, what shall I write?”

  “First, we must write Sŏngbuk-dong, mustn’t we?”

  “Well, yes. But shouldn’t we add the number too? And just write the name of the household head in large characters.… I think that’s how we did it here?”

  “No, that won’t do. It’s a bother to write all the names one by one. Let’s put everyone in one place. Then could you write the total number of men and of women, followed by Eldest Son and his name, and Second Son and his name? Then if the census inspector shows up, we won’t need to talk with him for long.”

  “Oh, I see now … that’s why you brought such a large piece of board.”

  “Of course.”

  And he patted his sniffling, narrow-eyed youngest on the bottom.

  I had never been asked to write such a nameplate before and was amused by his idea of it acting as a shield against the census inspector, but I was also somehow curious about his naïveté. First, I wrote “Koyang County, Sungin Township, Sŏngbuk Village” at the top, and then I asked, “And what number are you?”

  “We don’t need to write the number, do we?”

  “But why not write it? Ah, how can we not write the number when we’re going to write out the names of the eldest son, second son, and all that?”

  “We don’t have a number yet.”

  “Don’t have a number?”

  “Our house is built on the bank of the stream. What I mean is it’s state-owned. Get my meaning? So we don’t have a number until someone comes from the township and gives us one.”

  “Well, if that’s the case … are you the head of the household?”

  “Yes. Write Household Head and, underneath, Son Kŏbu. That’s son as in the country, kŏ as in huge, and bu as in wealthy. That’s right.”

  “Well, that’s a name for a full stomach.”

  “And yet, I worry that we go hungry so often.”

  We both laughed. I wrote Household Head and Son Kŏbu, just as he asked.

  “So, shouldn’t we write your wife’s name before that of your eldest son?”

  “What do we need to write something like that for?”

  “Something like that? Your wife’s part of the family, isn’t she?”

  “Heh heh, there’s nothing to write. I mean … do broads like that count as people? Where on earth …”

  “I see, but it’s because of your wife that you have these sons, isn’t it? What is your wife’s last name? And her first name?”

  “What, well there’s nothing to write, as I said. We’ve lived together twenty years and I still don’t know her name.”

  Both he and his sons grinned.

  “So leaving out your wife, what’s your eldest son’s name?”

  “It’s this rascal here, and he’s called Taesŏng.”

  “Tae as in big and sŏng as in achievement?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your second son? That one?”

  “Yes, he’s called Poksŏng.”

  “Pok as in happiness and sŏng as in achievement?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those are two very fine names.”

  “The Village Head down there came up with them.”

  “And he did a fine job.”

  “Huh!”

  Mr. Son spat and said, “But what’s to say we turn out like our names? If that were the case, I’d want for nothing.”

  “Well, you never know if the day of great wealth is yet to come.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. There was never any hope from the beginning.”

  “Why not? You just have to make some money from now on.… So, next you want me to write the number of men and women?”

  “Yes, together with my sons there are three men, and one woman.”

  “No daughter?”

  “We had one but we lost her.”

  “You lost a precious daughter among many sons.”

  “It’s a good thing she died. Unless you have money or some standing in society, a daughter ends up living a shameful life, doesn’t she? What kind of a scoundrel sells his own daughter as a street girl or harlot because he wants to? That’s what happens when you don’t have money or standing.”

  “When you think of it like that, then daughters really do live shameful lives, but …”

  “Oh, I know. You’re going to ask whether people don’t sell sons too, when they need the money? But isn’t that exactly why everyone has wanted a son since the old days?”

  He patted each of his two kids on their heads, which were more burnt red than yellow, as if they were truly precious.

  “You really love your children, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Do I have the riches that others have? Do I have a great big family? I just have the joy of raising these two.”

  “There, it’s all done. Shall I read it through once?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Koyang County, Sungin Township, Sŏngbuk Village, Household Head Son Kŏbu, Eldest Son Taesŏng, Second Son Poksŏng, Three Men, One Woman, tha
t’s it. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, that’s wonderful. But aren’t you going to put the total at the end there?”

  “The total?”

  “That the total population is four people.”

  I wetted my brush with more ink.

  “Population? Wouldn’t it better to say members of the household?”

  “Please write Total Population Four People.”

  And just as he asked, I even added “Total Population Four People.”

  From that day on, Mr. Son became a frequent visitor to our house, whether for any particular reason or not.

  “Did you know that the house cleaning inspections are on the XX day of this month?”

  Or,

  “Did you know that this month they’re vaccinating at the school down there on the XXth?”

  He would tell us all the news far more quickly than the village officials ever did.

  “They say that the land over there with the apricot trees just sold for eight won a p’yŏng.”

  And,

  “Did you hear the rumor about the burglar … he got away last night, over the back there at the paddy cave?”

  He would come to see us on purpose to tell us such things.

  Once he showed up and said, “I’m not here today to tell you anything, I’ve come to consult with you about something.”

  “Consult? Then, please come and sit down.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pointed at the eldest of his two children, who had as usual followed upon his tail, “This rascal here is exceeding my expectations. I think he’s going to do better than his own dad.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, but he keeps saying he wants to go to school. D’you think I should send him?”

  “Can there be any doubt? It’s already late, isn’t it?”

  “Well, in this world they say you have to study if you want to get on in life without people looking down on you … so I went and explained everything at XX School down there, and they said to bring the child who’s to be a student in tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s good then.”