Silver Stallion (13 page)

Most of the time she could not even find a decent place to sleep. One night she went to sleep among the rocks on Haeundae Beach, a favorite spot for vagrants and homeless refugees. Three men came to the beach and had a drinking party. One of these men noticed her and came over. Her brief life as a refugee had already turned Yonghi into a shameless woman; she no longer believed in the virtue of chastity in the face of the need to survive. For food and transportation, she had slept, on separate occasions, with two strange men whom she had met on her way down to Pusan. If she had not offered herself to them she might have never made it to the city. She did not mind lying with a third man, if he could provide her with a room and warm meal.

Yun Piljung was the name of this beach bum. He turned out to be a professional thief. That night, and every night after that, he took her to a cheap, bedbug infested back-alley inn. They lived together at this cheap inn near the railroad. Now and then he pilfered from the American military base and Yonghi was responsible for selling the stolen goods on the black market. They barely managed to pay for the room and food by selling C-rations and Hershey chocolates and Chuckles and Lifesavers and instant coffee and chewing gum. Yonghi thought they needed one big break. To steal one big container stuffed with radios and electric machines from an American cargo ship—that was their biggest dream. It did not take long for Yonghi to realize that this man had taken her in hoping she would support him later on. When he found her a job at Bichuku on Haeundae Beach, he stopped working. At this club for American soldiers she worked as a maid, cooking and washing and cleaning, and made barely enough money to pay for their room.

It was only after she began to learn English that she found out “Bichuku” was in fact “Beach Club” garbled by the beach area inhabitants. This club opened a whole new world of wonders to her. She used to think all adult women wore the loose
chogori
coat and long
chima
skirt or baggy
monpe
pants, but the girls working at Bichuku pranced around the beach in tiny pieces of cloth called “bikini” that barely covered their nipples and the hair of their groins. She was fascinated by these half naked girls, with their permanented hairdos and colorful clothes.

Every night the club held a strange show called “strip tease” in which the girls undressed on the stage before the audience of foreign soldiers. The locals, including the children, swarmed to the barbed-wire fence around the club at night to watch the stark-naked girls making strange suggestive motions. Sometimes a drunk or two would try to climb over the fence to have a better view of the show, and American MPs were called in to drag them away. Some day, Yonghi dreamed, she would dance like that, applauded by many foreigners.

Yonghi admired and envied Hwaja, the most popular U.N. lady on the beach, who was always surrounded by several Yankees whenever she showed up at the club. Better known by her American name of Helen, she slept with a different man every night. And she was paid for all that fun, too! Yonghi compared the luxurious, happy life of Helen with her own miserable existence.

One day Yonghi asked Big Sister, the club owner, who also ran a brothel at Sombat, to let her work there as a U. N. lady. She was soon allowed to move into a shack at Sombat “U.N. Town.” This shack in the Red Light alley, like many other shacks owned by Big Sister, was called a “box house” because it looked like a box topped with a slate roof. Within the four walls, the box house had two rooms and a latrine. It had nothing more—no kitchen, no hall, nothing at all. Every door opened directly into the alley. They could hear what was going on in the next room and even in the next shack, through the thin walls. Sundok occupied the other room of Yonghi's box house. They had stayed together ever since.

Yonghi was soon busy collecting steady customers among the Yankees who strolled into the alley so that she could quickly make enough money to buy the box house for which she now had to pay weekly rent to Big Sister. She served every customer as best she could to keep him coming back to her, for she wanted to be an independent U. N. lady.

When the logistical unit moved to Wegwan up north, she had to move along with the Yankee soldiers because all her steady customers belonged to that unit. By this time, she had made enough money to buy a house and run her own small business. Sundok came to Wegwan with Yonghi but they were no longer colleagues. For some time, even before they left Haeundae Beach, Yonghi had been working as a madam for Sundok; Sundok was in debt to Yonghi because she always spent too much money, while Yonghi had so many customers that sometimes she had to send some of them into Sundok's room.

They moved again to Hongchon following the soldiers. At Hongchon Texas Town, Yonghi was known by the English name of Dragon Lady, and she was as famous and popular among the GIs as Helen had been at Bichuku. The nickname “Dragon Lady” had been given to her by a master sergeant called Jimmy, but she did not know it had been the nickname of a horrible empress in Ching China until she was told by a Major Kim Hijun, a Korean information officer, who used to entertain
bengko
friends at Yonghi's house. Major Kim told her that Jimmy must have given her that nickname as a joke, but Yonghi decided to keep it.

Now Yonghi envied nobody. She believed she would get everything she had ever wanted. When she made her first trip to Chunchon, her business sense had been sharpened by experience so she saw the potential of this riverside village. Most
bengkos
did not mind filthy rooms as long as they had women underneath them, but there was no doubt that the customers would prefer a decent house by the river to a sweltering pigsty. She could charge a few dollars more if she opened a really high-class sex house at Kumsan village.

The snake hunter's hut had only one room. They had to convert the snake pen to a room for Sundok. Then they would expand the kitchen, install a plywood partition, place two tables in the new hall, and Dragon Lady Club would be ready to begin its business. Yonghi planned to build at least three more rooms with plank boards and sand bricks in the back yard to house more Yankee wives later on. She might even build a small stage in the front yard for the strip show. By the time this Yankee unit moved away, she would have made enough money to go back to Pusan. She had planned it all out and the future looked promising, as far as she could see. But she had not foreseen this idiotic blockade by Old Hwang. At the least expected spot, the enemy had been lying in wait for her.

“It's all gone wrong because of that old cock,” she muttered, gazing across the river at the two trucks driving into Camp Omaha, raising a cloud of dust behind them. She stood up with a sigh and went to wake Sundok. “I think it won't work,” she said. “Maybe we should clear out of here and move to Cucumber Island, after all.”

They cooked the rice, quickly finished lunch, packed their things up, and went to the Paulownia House to see the old man.

“All right, old man, you win,” Yonghi said to Old Hwang, putting her trunk down under the massive tree. “We've decided to leave this village. Just pay me back my money, and we will be gone forever.”

Old Hwang, carrying a roll of new wire screening under his arm, went over to the chicken coop to mend the rusted door. Ignoring the presence of the two women, he took his time slowly removing the crooked rusted nails one by one from the door frame and then straightening them one by one and then scraping the rust from the straightened nails by rubbing them one by one in the dirt. He knew he was winning the fight now and he did not need to hurry.

“I can't pay you back the money right now because the snake hunter ran away with that money,” the old man said. “I don't keep that much money at home. But you don't have to worry. I'll pay it to you when the harvest is over.”

For over half an hour Yonghi screamed and swore at Old Hwang, but he did not mind her foul language much, for he was enjoying his revenge. Yonghi and Sundok returned to their shack, swearing that they would not leave until they got the money back and that they would bring in all the whores from Texas Town to this village to turn the whole county into the biggest brothel in the world. But both the old man and Yonghi knew she would have to leave soon.

That evening, the old man instructed the boatman to let the women use the boat if they wanted to go to the islet.

THREE

0
llye, who had been brooding in the dark, crouching motionless on the stoop outside her room with her chin resting on her raised knees, finally stirred. But she did not return to the silence of her room. She could not sleep. Slowly she stepped down from the stoop and squeezed her feet into her black rubber shoes. She quietly crossed the yard and cautiously pushed open the twig gate. Although she moved noiselessly so as not to disturb her children, she was nonetheless resentful that she had to sneak out of her own house like a thief.

She quickly passed the chestnut tree and hastened down to the stream, gasping in fear and anxiety lest anybody should spot her.

She passed the log bridge under which the little boy Bong had looked up at her with a frightened expression several days ago; she reached the willow bush by the brook where she could hide herself safely in the dark shadow; she breathed slowly to calm herself.

Like a bad farmer prowling in the dark, trying to steal some sheaves from the stacks of harvested rice in a neighbor's paddy, she scurried from one dike to the next along the stream, concealing herself among the willows and bushes. There was no definite reason for her to go to the river but she headed for it anyway, driven by a vague instinct which told her that she would find shelter—or a way out—somewhere by the river, if anywhere.

She stopped now and then to take a look around. She had seen this landscape hundreds of times both at night and in the daytime, but tonight it looked so strange that she felt as if she had just returned home from a long journey. The full moon was yellow in black space and the overlapping contours of the peaks and ridges loomed frosty grey at both sides of the river to the south. The wild chrysanthemums glinted in clumps of lilac-violet and silken-silver on moonlit West Hill. The brook chattered noisily but the rest of the village was silent. This silence and the moonlight over the rectangles of harvested rice paddies reminded her of an abandoned cemetery.

This deserted nocturnal landscape, this world of darkness, now belonged to her for nobody was there to accuse her of intruding. Ollye was free for she was alone.

Ollye stopped under the aspen where the brook joined the river and glanced over at the snake hunter's shack. The shack was deserted; Yonghi and Sundok had left Kumsan that morning to go to Cucumber Island. The two prostitutes had decided to rent a room at the shanty town for the time being rather than waste any more time waiting for the old man to pay them back for the hut.

She had been invited to the snake hunter's shack for supper the previous night by the two women who insisted on expressing their gratitude for the rice Ollye had shared with them. She told Mansik to look after Nanhi and went to the hut after dark, for she did not want any villager to see her visiting the whores. It did not take long for Ollye to learn that the two women had another purpose for inviting her besides expressing their gratitude; they asked her to find someone who was interested in buying the shack. They did not mind taking a small loss, for they had no other choice but to move to Texas Town, and they were not sure Old Hwang would ever pay them for the hut. At supper they served their guest with
bengko
cans containing boiled sweet beans, juicy mashed meat, and potatoes dipped in gravy soup. Ollye had never tasted anything so delicious in her whole life. They also offered her a cup of brown water called coffee, but she did not like it as much as cool fresh water. They urged her to take some cookies and candies and a can of honey-tasting jam to her children at home. Ollye was surprised to find that there were so many novel and palatable things to eat in the world.

While Ollye was indulging in those delicacies, Yonghi cursed the hostile Kumsan villagers. “I've never seen people like them, really,” she said. “Bad neighbors are worse than wasps.”

“She's telling the God's honest ruth,” Sundok affirmed. “You should know who your real enemies are. And who your true friends are.”

Ollye was easy prey for Sister Serpent's words. But she was so shocked by Yonghi's next suggestion that she could not even swallow the potato in her mouth. Sister Serpent wanted to know if she would be interested in working with them. Ollye coughed several times in quick succession and wondered if she had understood the question. Yonghi asked Ollye to come to see her at Texas Town some afternoon if she wanted to become a U.N. lady and entertain
bengkos.

“People say lots of foul things about us, but whoring isn't as bad a business as you think,” Yonghi explained. In wartime, the best way to survive was to stick around with soldiers and there were certain benefits if you did business with foreign soldiers. “I can tell you many easy ways to make a lot of money, if you're interested.” She declared that she was doing much better than anybody she had ever known in her hometown. “You never know what will befall you tomorrow at a time like this, and you have to consider yourself blessed if you know where your next meal is coming from while other people do not even know if they will still be around tomorrow. Think smart,” she said. “Smart people enjoy the war while other people get killed in it.”

“Hear, hear,” Sundok chimed in. “You've got a lot to learn, Ollye.”

Yonghi said the business would not last forever and they had to work a lot while they could, because nobody knew when the war would end and the
bengkos
would go home.

“Think hard, Mansik's mother, and don't waste this opportunity,” Sister Serpent advised, squinting at Ollye to see how well her words were working. “Even grasshoppers don't miss their own mating season, and you'd better not let this precious chance slip through your fingers. Of course I know you have Mansik and … what did you say your daughter's name is? Nanhi. That's right. I know you have Mansik and Nanhi to think about, but you can't just sit here and starve to death. At Bichuku I knew a woman who was older than thirty and had a child. And she knew how to conduct her business! Age and children don't matter a bit if you know tricks to drive the
bengkos
nuts in bed. And to please a man is the easiest thing in the world, believe me.”

It was much easier for Ollye to imagine herself starving to death than becoming a Yankee wife. She doubted if she was capable of becoming a proper whore even if she wanted to be one. To offer her naked body to every man … that was simply unthinkable to her. Moreover, Sister Serpent was talking about whoring with
bengko
soldiers. She could never do that, never.

“What's wrong with the
bengkos?”
Yonghi retorted. “All men are the same. Especially in this business. Nobody, not even the vilest-looking soldier, has more than one cock. I understand perfectly well how you feel about the
bengkos
that assaulted you. But soldiers are the same everywhere whether they're Yankees or Mongols. Combat soldiers fuck and rape any women they find on their way to their deaths. What's the big deal if a girl or two gets raped, they say, when soldiers get killed every day? But not all of them are rapists and murderers. There're some nice guys too. If you find a really nice guy, your whole life changes overnight to an eternal feast. I hear they used to forbid Yankees to marry Orientals, but that law does not exist any longer. If you're lucky, you can marry a Yankee and go to America. You don't have any idea what a paradise America is. Lots of canned food. Nice warm blankets. And they say almost every family has its own car in that big country,
Migook.
They say
Migook
folks even shit better crap than us
Hangooks.
Think about the opportunity of going to Yankee country! I personally know several girls from Pusan Texas Town who married GIs and made their way to America. Play it smart and you will come to thank heaven for this war for bringing the
bengkos
to this country.”

Then Yonghi went on to explain black-market operations. Ollye found herself puzzled and lost in a fantastic world that she had never imagined. She felt a sense of expectation, and even a faint hint of hope, as she listened to Yonghi, who seemed to know the secret formulas to tide one over the worst in life. Yonghi seemed to know more about Ollye's life and future than Ollye herself. This uncanny faculty inspired both fear and curiosity. Perhaps Sister Serpent was the only person who really knew what was in store for the future.

“You just wait and see,” Yonghi promised. “I'll show you soon what it is like to have a real great time. If you come to see me at Texas Town in a few weeks, you'll find a very prosperous bar with a big shiny sign ‘Dragon Lady Club.' That's me—Dragon Lady. I'll become the biggest madam in Texas Town in no time and you will see with your own eyes what a glorious life a good U.N. lady can enjoy.”

Crouching under the aspen on the riverbank and gazing over at the ferry, Ollye vividly remembered the expression on her face when Yonghi said that.

She stared at Cucumber Island, where Yonghi and Sundok might be entertaining their
bengko
friends at this very moment. The bright electric lights from the camp, the new concrete bridge, and Texas Town's shanties were reflected in the rippling water creating yellow wriggling patterns.

Ollye shuddered from the chill. She was conscious of time passing her by. She had the frightening thought that she might be dead even now, sitting there under the tree in the dark, watching the bright artificial lights of another world across the river. Breathing, but dead with her eyes wide open. She had been confined in her home, dead, while the world, ignoring her existence was busy living.

She slowly inhaled the cold wet night air, and she thought about the past month. During that month, a frightful animal had seemed to be lurking around her, invisible, waiting for a chance to pounce, but now she realized there had never been such a beast threatening her, after all. What a waste, she thought, what a waste.

With disbelief she wondered why she had cared so much about the villagers anyway. She had feared that the villagers would sneer at her if she met them by chance. But why had she cared so much about their attitude? She and the villagers lived in different worlds.

She decided she would not mind from now on if the farmers treated her like a disgraced sinner. But Mansik's sickly pale face haunted her. Why did she have the feeling that her own son was also turning into an enemy? Was she imagining things out of guilt?

And Nanhi. A three-year-old girl was too young to understand what was happening to her mother. Yet the little girl's innocence further burdened Ollye, for she felt as if she was cheating her daughter.

Ollye had an urge to run away, abandoning Mansik and Nanhi, to run far far away to some place where nobody would recognize her. She knew she could not do that, but she still wanted to.

When she rose to her feet, staring at Cucumber Island, there was anger in her face. She did not know the exact reason she had to be angry, yet her anger gradually turned to sizzling hate. And she knew that the will to fight and survive thrived on hate.

At the repeated suggestion of the village chief, Old Hwang finally went over the islet one late afternoon to inspect Texas Town. The chief was convinced that the whoretown would bring some harm to West County sooner or later.

When Yom pushed his boat ashore so that the old man could step down onto the dry sand without getting his feet wet, hundreds of swallows were training their chicks for the long journey south for winter, twittering noisily and crowding the sky over the northern shore. The old man asked the boatman why they were not using the regular landing farther south and Yom explained that the villagers, especially the women, preferred to use the northern detour to risking an accidental encounter with the
bengkos
or the prostitutes on their way to and from the town.

“It's only natural for the village women to be afraid of the
bengkos”
said Pae, holding the boat steady for the old man. “The soldiers might mistake a passing village woman for a whore and you never know what they will do.”

“You wait here until we return,” Hwang told the boatman, checking his horsehair hat and long-sleeved robe before advancing. “And you lead the way, Mr. Pae. I want to take a look at the army camp first.”

Following the limping village chief, Hwang trudged up the sandy slope. The old man paused to glance over the river at West County like a soldier looking back at his hometown for the last time on his way to war. Patches of white cloud, that would melt in one's mouth as sweetly as balls of cotton candy, were suspended in the turquoise sky over hills covered with the flaming crimson and dazzling yellow of autumn. It was the season of calabashes fattening on the thatched roofs, soft sponge gourds dangling heavily on the twig fence, bees collecting the last honey from the purple chrysanthemums, refreshing cool breezes and pleasantly sunny afternoons. The branches of the persimmon trees sagged with scarlet fruits, and the farmers had a lot of work to do to prepare for the cold season. They worked from morning star to evening star, harvesting and threshing and winnowing and packing and storing the crops in their barns and kitchens and jars. They had to repair the cracks in earthen walls, fill the ratholes in rice barns, clean the ceiling closets in which fruits and nuts were stored, replace the decomposing thatch on their roofs with straw from the recent harvest, restore the rice paddy dikes destroyed by the trucks during the battle at General's Hill, haul in weeds to make winter fodder for cows or compost to use in spring, twine ropes and weave straw bags, hang corn cobs under the eaves to dry to use as seed next year, and pickle cabbages and radishes for the lean months. The farmers were busy, but this was the happiest season for them. They would have already organized a farmers' band to play music and dance around the villages to celebrate the bumper crop, if there had not been a war going on.