From Wonso Pond (18 page)

“Oh, come on,” laughed Kaettong, as he glanced over at Tokho. He couldn't quite make out the expression on Tokho's face, but he could see him standing quietly there, and he knew that Tokho was satisfied. When the harvest was bad, Tokho always started complaining, and it was impossible for him to stay still—he would pace back and forth, shouting abuse at all of them: they hadn't worked the fields well enough, or else they'd eaten part of the crop on the sly.

Yu Sobang wheeled over a cart and loaded a few sacks of rice on it,
each with a loud thud. The others picked up more of the sacks and lifted them onto the cart.

“Boy, is this heavy! How can one sack of rice weigh so much?” They mentioned this on purpose for Tokho to hear. But Tokho just stood there in the darkness, puffing away at his cigarette.

“Kaettong! We're going to settle up your accounts right here! Even if you'll need some of it later . . . got it? Now, how much was it you borrowed?”

Tokho wanted to hear what Kaettong would say to this. But Kaettong's heart had been in his throat all along. He feared that Tokho might bring up the topic of his debts, and now Tokho's mention of them seemed to sap him of all of his remaining strength. Tokho looked expectantly at Kaettong, who couldn't even bring himself to speak, and it suddenly dawned on him: the boy wasn't even fixing to repay his loans! If he didn't manage to get his sacks of rice here and now, he might never get back what was due to him.

“It was last January I gave you fifteen won, wasn't it? That makes ten months counting this one, so you figure in the interest . . . and it comes to twenty won. You owe me four sacks first off just for that. Even so, I'll end up losing a good three or four won. But then we've got the cost of fertilizer and seed to settle up here too, so . . .”

He looked at Yu Sobang.

“Just bring seven sacks over. Now, you'll still owe me ten won, mind you. But I know you've got to live on something, so I'll let you take at least one sack home—half for your share, and half as a bonus from us. Think of it as thanks for all your good work this year.” Tokho chuckled.

As soon as Tokho had finished talking, Yu Sobang lifted each sack of rice onto his back with a grunt and loaded them into his cart. The others, after their long day's work, suddenly felt a tide of exhaustion sweep over them. Each of them collapsed into a pile of straw. Then Ch'otchae thought of old man P'unghon.

His crops had been seized by creditors before they were even harvested, and the frantic man had been running circles around the village, stopping each person he met.

“How can they get away with this? Before I even harvest my rice . . .”

The man had been too choked up to continue. Ch'otchae, wondering what he was talking about, followed him down to his paddies. At the corner of the field stood a small wooden sign with something written on it.

41

P'unghon pointed to the wooden stake.

“Some man wearing a suit—he called himself a ‘bailiff ' or something—stuck that sign there and told me I couldn't harvest my crops . . .” said P'unghon, looking out over the yellowing ears of grain.

Ch'otchae came up beside him. “How much did you borrow? And from who?”

“Well, from Tokho. I only asked him to be a little patient, so why did he have to do this? The postman brought me this just the other day, but, you know, I didn't know what to make of it, so I just set it aside. I mean . . . I never dreamt it'd come to this.”

P'unghon had pulled out from his pocket an envelope worn down at the edges. Of course, there was no way that Ch'otchae could understand a word of it. He held the envelope, turning it this way and that, and returned it to P'unghon.

“Well, what does it say?” P'unghon asked, leaning forward and looking intently at Ch'otchae. Ch'otchae simply scratched his head: “How am I supposed to know?”

“What should I do?”

“Did you talk to Tokho about it?”

“You think I haven't tried? I practically begged him all night long. But it wasn't any use. What do you figure I should do? You think you could talk to him for me?”

Oh, that pleading look in P'unghon's eyes! Ch'otchae simply had to turn away from him. He wanted more than anything to head straight to Tokho's place and throw a few good punches. But knowing full well that it would do no good, Ch'otchae let out a helpless sigh and stared blankly into the distance. All those ears of rice! They'd be reaped in less than ten days now. The rice was so mature that the stems hung their heads to the ground.

“Just look at it! A mighty fine crop if you ask me.”

P'unghon pointed to the ears of rice, then ran over to the paddy to sweep his hands through them. Then as he glared out at Mount Pult'a, lost in his thoughts, his salt-and-pepper beard shook frightfully. Ch'otchae couldn't think of anything to say to comfort the man. He could feel how even the air surrounding them seemed as heavy as lead. P'unghon squatted in the corner of his paddy and set himself, out
of habit, to fixing part of the embankment that had begun to erode. Ch'otchae just watched him.

“So these paddies belong to someone in town?”

“They sure do. The gentleman's name is Han Ch'isu . . .”

He let out a long sigh.

“But I don't get it. Nothing like this has ever happen before . . . No matter how hard I try, I just can't make sense of it! I'll have to go into town tomorrow and have a talk with this Mr. Han Ch'isu.”

“I think you'd better.”

Ch'otchae couldn't make sense of it either. P'unghon jumped to his feet again.

“You know, I might as well just go and see him now,” he said, turning toward the road into town. He rushed off without even once turning around. Ch'otchae watched the man walk off into the distance and around the mountain bend, and only then did he go back into the village.

After having not seen P'unghon for several days, Ch'otchae asked someone what had happened to him, and learned that he'd already moved away. He heard that P'unghon had taken off with his wife and kids, and nothing besides a few gourds in tow.

 

The sound of a cart rolling by roused Ch'otchae from these memories. But sure enough, the man who'd driven out P'unghon—both friend and father figure to Ch'otchae—had been Tokho. Now Ch'otchae knew for certain that Tokho was trying to drive out Kaettong and himself as well.

“What! When did I ever say I wouldn't repay my loans?”

Kaettong's voice seemed to ring through the thick air. He'd spent a whole year working on these crops . . . If he'd at least been able to place all the rice in front of his own house before they took it away, well, he might have felt a little bit better. Then there was the current market price of the rice they were using to calculate—they said five won per sack, but it might easily go up to six or even eight won in no time at all. It had been simply too much to bear for Kaettong to have his crops seized on such unfair terms.

Just as soon as Ch'otchae heard Kaettong say these words, he dashed forward without really knowing what he was doing. He knocked Yu Sobang to the ground with a single blow.

“Hey, what's going on here? You rascals! Get back over here!”

Though it wasn't their fight either, the others felt Kaettong's anger too, and they rushed forward following Ch'otchae's lead. They pulled off the rice sacks loaded onto the cart, then they searched for Tokho. But he had already run off and they couldn't find him.

“Let him just try to take this rice away from me!” shouted Kaettong.

A lamp shone in the distance as it made its way closer to them. They knew now what was happening: the police were on their way! Quickly they scattered in all directions.

They could hear dogs barking here and there in the distance. Then came the sound of footsteps, and more footsteps . . .

42

The next day at dawn, Kaettong's mother went to Tokho's. Nothing had changed: the main gate was still locked. How many times had she already come to this door since last night! There had been nothing else she could do but go back home, but each time, a new worry crossed her mind, and she'd found herself yet again standing in front of this gate. She wondered if anyone was awake, and kept peeking through the cracks in the doorframe. But not even a stray dog caught her eye. Pacing back and forth, she practiced out loud what she was going to say to Tokho when she met him. Even though she'd spent all night thinking about it, every time she made her way up to his house, she was at a loss for words.

She heard the sound of footsteps approaching from inside, so she stepped back a ways, keeping her eyes set on the door. There was a rattling sound, and then the door squeaked open. Yu Sobang limped outside, but then he stopped short upon seeing Kaettong's mother.

“What do you want?”

With the happenings of last night fresh in his mind, Yu Sobang's temper was still flaring.

Kaettong's mother hung her head.

“I'm awfully sorry for what happened. Please forgive the boys, won't you? They just lost their heads, that's all. Won't you please help us out?”

“Lost their heads? Shit! They knew exactly what they were doing. Just look at me. I'm a cripple now!”

He turned back into the house with a snort. Kaettong's mother went in after him.

“Is the mayor awake yet?”

“What do you want him for?” Yu Sobang asked.

“Won't you please help us out just this once? Oh, please . . . I'm begging you.”

Kaettong's mother was in tears now.

“Nothing I can do,” said Yu Sobang. “Those imbeciles . . . That ungrateful, double-dealing bunch of them. The bastards!”

Yu Sobang went inside. Kaettong's mother hesitated for a minute. She heard Tokho's voice coming from inside.

“Well, who is it?”

“Kaettong's mother,” answered Yu Sobang.

“Kaettong's mother? What does she want?”

“I'm not sure.”

Kaettong's mother stood outside the door for a moment before bringing herself to speak.

“Mr. Mayor. Please forgive them this once. The boys just lost their senses . . .”

It seemed that Tokho had not yet gotten up out of bed.

“Is that you, Kaettong's mother? Well, come on inside. It's too cold for old folks to be out in this weather. What are you standing out there for?”

This unexpectedly warm welcome from Tokho sent the woman's head spinning. Only then did Yu Sobang add, “Go on in, then.”

When Kaettong's mother opened the door, she found Tokho lying in bed. She froze.

“Come in,” insisted Tokho.

Kaettong's mother entered the room but kept her eyes on the floor.

“Won't you please help us out, Sir, just this once? Consider the fix we're in now.”

Tokho cleared his throat, got up off the floor, and covered himself with the bedding as he sat up.

“Well, I'll tell you, watching those imbeciles carry on like that got me worked up enough that I didn't want to forgive them. And I have half a mind to make them suffer, suffer real good . . . But since I'm in charge of the township now, and especially considering how hard it would be for all you folks back at home, I don't think I can really do that now, can I?”

Kaettong's mother was so relieved by his words that she felt like crying.
The very idea that Kaettong and his friends had turned a blind eye to this gentleman's kindness made her furious at the whole lot of them.

“So you'll help us out then? For my sake, if nothing else . . .”

“Well, it just so happens today is a holiday and I'm not going into the office, so I guess I could head on over to the police station to get them released. These past ten years it's been me they've got to thank for giving them work, you know. Now, that's called biting the hand that feeds you, is what I say. I've got no sons myself, you know, so I love those boys like they were my own. Why, just yesterday I let them have a free bag of rice. And this is the thanks I get? For the third year in a row?”

“They aren't deserving of your kindness, sir. Let them all rot in Hell, for all I care, every single one of them. But please have mercy on us old folks, oh please, Sir . . .”

“All right. You go on back home. I'll head out in a little while.”

Kaettong's mother bowed deeply and then went outside. Tokho lay back down on the floor, thinking. He wanted all of them to suffer a bit longer and get a taste of the law of the land. But since the days were gradually getting colder and the rest of the rice still had to be threshed before it started snowing again, he really had no other choice but to arrange for their release. And besides, there were rumors floating around that the new rice policies were coming into effect this fall. The price of rice would be sure to rise if these rumors turned out to be true. Then it dawned on him that he'd better clear up accounts with them while the price of rice was still low. And with this, he jumped out of bed.

43

When Tokho arrived that morning the young men who had spent the night in the police station were finally released, but only after receiving a stout warning by the chief of police and promising never to cause such trouble again. They weren't even allowed to eat a proper breakfast on the way back from the station; instead, they were sent straight to the threshing ground. Once they had gathered the sheaves of rice they'd left out to dry, they swept up the remaining grain, then began whirling around the thresher in the corner. As they set themselves to work, every bone in their bodies ached. Each time they moved an arm or leg it felt sore. The pain was so bad they couldn't bend down or turn their heads as they pleased. Couldn't we have gotten a day off to recover . . . ? Each
one of them had this same thought on his mind, as if they'd actually talked it over.