Daughters of the Dragon: A Comfort Woman's Story (22 page)

T
HIRTY-EIGHT

“W
hat did you
and your sister do in Dongfeng?” Mr. Lee asked, peering over his glasses from his metal desk in the Department of Records. Mr. Lee’s desk sign identified him as the Administrator of Records. He had a slight paunch and his white shirt was gray from age. His office was on the first floor of one of South Korea’s new government buildings. For the past fifteen minutes, he had been asking me questions so he could complete his form. He hadn’t even bothered to look up until I mentioned Dongfeng.

I told him we worked for the Japanese hoping he would accept my answer and move on, but he asked me to be more specific. He held his pen over his form.

I wondered what I should tell him about the comfort station. What people had done during the Japanese occupation was something proper Koreans did not discuss. But I had come here to see if Lieutenant Tanaka had told me the truth about Soo-hee and if there was information about her. So I had to tell Mr. Lee about Dongfeng.

“My sister and I received orders from the Japanese military command to report to work at a boot factory in Sinuiju,” I said. “The orders were a trick. They put us in a truck and shipped us to Dongfeng. They forced us to become comfort women. That’s what we did there. We were
ianfu
.”

Mr. Lee glared at me for several seconds and then pushed the papers to the side of his desk without writing anything more. “I cannot help you,” he said flatly.

“Why?”

“Because we have no records of that sort of thing happening.”

“It is what happened,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I spent two years there. If we had not done it, we would have been shot.”

Mr. Lee looked from side-to-side as if he were afraid someone was listening. “You should not talk about it,” he said. “The Japanese are our allies now. They’re helping us. There is no need to bring up what happened twenty years ago. I’m not putting it in the records.”

“That’s fine, but please see if you have anything about my sister. Her name is Hong Soo-hee. She was from Sinuiju.”

“Look,” Mr. Lee said, leaning forward, “families were scattered after World War II and again after the Korean War. Millions died. The chances of your sister still being alive are small. The chances of you finding her if she is alive are even smaller.”

I moved to the edge of my chair. My jaw tightened. “Mr. Lee, isn’t that what this department is for? Helping family members find each other? You have thousands of files here. Can’t you at least look? Just because the Japanese forced me to be an
ianfu
, does not mean you don’t have to help me. Why do you make me suffer for what the Japanese did to me?”

Mr. Lee sighed. “Okay, I will look if it will get you to leave. I doubt if I’ll find anything. What was your sister’s name again?”

I gave it to him and he wrote it down. He said it will take some time and I told him I would wait.

Mr. Lee disappeared into a huge open area filled with tall, beige file drawers and long shelves packed with boxes. I looked at the form on Mr. Lee’s desk. I was glad he didn’t want to write down what Soo-hee and I had done in Dongfeng. But as I waited for him to return, I wondered why it had to be that way. For years, there had been hushed talk throughout Korea about tens of thousands of women who the Japanese had forced to be
ianfu
. Apparently, there were many more women like me who the Japanese had raped and tortured. Now, the Koreans and Japanese were allies and we were sweeping aside the atrocities of their brutal occupation. No one wanted to hear about our suffering. I knew why. Just like me, Koreans did not want to admit what the Japanese had done to us. Simply put, we were ashamed.

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Lee returned scratching his head and holding a stained envelope. “I found something,” he said. “Before the Korean War—in May of 1949, to be exact—there was a letter delivered to our department by a Park Seung-yo from Sinuiju who had escaped to the South. Apparently, Mr. Park lived with you at one time. He delivered this letter.” Mr. Lee looked at me over his glasses as he handed the envelope to me.

The letter was water-stained and yellowed with age. On the back was a government label with the name ‘Hong Soo-hee: Sinuiju’ and a file number. On the front, handwritten in smudged ink, was; “For Hong Ja-hee, born twenty miles east of Sinuiju, last seen in Sinuiju, October 1945.”

I pressed the envelope to my chest. My heart beat fast knowing my
onni
was alive. Lieutenant Tanaka hadn’t lied. Soo-hee had recovered from her botched abortion and was living somewhere in North Korea.

I opened the envelope. Inside was a letter dated April 1949.

Ja-hee,

If you are reading this letter, you know I survived my illness in Dongfeng. After several years in China, I returned to Sinuiju to look for you. I made inquiries and found this man, Park Seung-yo, who said he knew you. So, I am sending this letter with him, hoping to find you some day.

I have learned that Mother and Father are dead. You and I are all that is left of our family. Please write to me in Sinuiju. Perhaps we can be together again soon.

Take care Little Sister,

Your
onni
, Soo-hee.

I read the letter twice more. I nodded to myself and asked Mr. Lee how I could get a letter to my sister in Sinuiju.

He shook his head. “It is impossible. Communicating with people in the North is prohibited.”

“But my sister is alive,” I said. “I must get a letter to her. I’ve heard it can be done. Help me. Please.”

Mr. Lee eyed me carefully, and then looked from side-to-side. He motioned for me to lean in close. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… there is an underground network. It is not cheap and, if you are caught, you will be arrested.”

“I understand. How do I do it?”

He told me about a Chinaman named Dr. Wu that I would find in a warehouse in Songdong. He wrote down an address and gave it to me. He told me to tell Dr. Wu that he sent me. “Don’t get caught,” he said, “and do not tell anyone where you got this information.”

I thanked him and assured him I would be careful. I took the address and letter, then left the government building to catch a cab for Songdong.

*

The address was for the Daegu Refrigerated Warehouse and the taxi driver drove right to it through the late-afternoon traffic. As the cab waited for me, I entered the building through an open loading dock door. Workers on the warehouse floor noisily moved crates of vegetables from trucks to refrigerated rooms. The warehouse had the pungent smell of onions, which reminded me of our family farm. I climbed a set of open wooden stairs to a second floor office filled with file cabinets and cardboard boxes. A thin man sat at the office’s only desk. When he saw me, he asked who I was.

“My name is Hong Ja-hee. I am looking for Dr. Wu. Mr. Lee sent me.”

“What do you want with Dr. Wu?” he said without looking up.

“I was told he could help me get a letter to a family member in the North.”

“Contact with people in the North is against the law. Go away.”

I started to leave, but turned back before I got to the door. “I have money,” I said.

The thin man didn’t respond and I went to leave again. As I opened the door, the man said, “It will cost a lot of money,” he said, still not looking up.

“I will pay whatever it takes,” I said.

The man finally looked at me. “How do I know you aren’t from the police?”

I thought for a moment, shook my head and said, “I guess you don’t. But I assure you, I only want to find my sister. I just learned she is alive. I have not seen her in twenty years.”

The man licked his lips. He told me to wait and went through a door. After a minute, he came out and pointed to the office. “Dr. Wu will see you in there,” he said.

I walked inside the office. It was dark inside and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. There was the sweet smell of incense in the room. Persian rugs covered the floors, and beautiful Chinese tapestries with scenes of cranes and snow-capped mountains hung on the walls. In the center of the room was a massive rosewood desk with thick carved legs. In front of the desk were matching chairs with embroidered cushions. Sitting in the shadows at the desk was a rotund man wearing a maroon smoking jacket. Between his stubby fingers was a long cigarette holder tipped with a thin cigarette. Smoke drifted up from the end.

I went to the desk and bowed. The man motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “What is your name, woman?” he asked in a husky voice. He had no trace of a Chinese accent.

“Hong Ja-hee,” I answered.

From inside the shadows, the man nodded. “The Hong clan. From the North. Mostly farmers, if I’m not mistaken.” He took a puff from his cigarette. The tip glowed orange.

“Yes, my family had a farm outside of Sinuiju.”

“Sinuiju. I cannot say I like the place.” He angled his head and blew cigarette smoke toward the ceiling. “I prefer the Chinese city of Dandong across the Yalu River. The Great Wall begins there and it has a lovely park at the base of Jinjiang Mountain. I am told you have a sister who you want to find.”

“Yes, sir. The Department of Family Records had a letter on file. I think my sister might be in Sinuiju. I want to get a letter to her.”

Dr. Wu leaned his bulk over the rosewood desk and his round face came out of the shadows. His eyes were white and lifeless. “It costs a lot of money to get a letter to someone in the North. We do not know where she is or if she is even alive. We have to avoid the authorities on both sides of the border. It is all very… complicated.”

“I understand, sir.”

He leaned back into the shadows and took in a long draw from his cigarette. He angled his head in the manner of a man who has been blind all his life. “If I agree to do this for you, it will cost two-hundred thousand won or one thousand American dollars if you prefer. And I make no guarantees. The chances are your sister is dead. So many of your people died in the civil war. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, sir. I think I can get the money.”

He took another pull from the cigarette. “Where will you get that kind of money, woman?”

“I work for the Gongson Construction Company.”

“What do you do there?”

“I am an interpreter.”

“What languages?”

“Japanese and English. I also speak Chinese.”

“Impressive! When did you get separated from your sister?”

I peered into the shadows at the bulk of Dr. Wu. I hesitated only a moment and then answered, “We were
ianfu
in Dongfeng. The Japanese tricked us into working for them. I thought they had killed my sister, but as I said, today I learned she is alive.”

Dr. Wu pointed his cigarette in my direction. “I doubt you earn enough as an interpreter for the Gongson Construction Company, but if you can raise the money, I will help you. When you have it, bring it here with your letter and everything you know about your sister. We will get back to you if we find her.”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

Dr. Wu leaned forward exposing his lifeless eyes again. “Months,” he said with a blind man’s grin.

“Thank you, sir.” I bowed and hurried out.

*

I climbed in the cab and gave the driver the address of my apartment. Two hundred thousand won. I didn’t have that much money. But I was hopeful and excited because I knew one person who could give it to me. 

T
HIRTY-NINE

C
hul-sun and
I planned our wedding as we ate at an expensive restaurant in Itaewon. Since I had agreed to marry him, Chul-sun walked with his shoulders back and his chin held high. The pockmarks on his face didn’t show as much, and his clothes seemed to fit better. He hadn’t blushed all night. At the restaurant, he had ordered a bottle of plum wine and an elaborate meal. Several dishes of
banchan
were spread before us on the low table. We sat close to each other on mats.

Chul-sun took a sip of wine. “I want a traditional wedding,” he said, holding his glass out. “I do not care what it costs. I want both of us to wear new
hanbok
s. I want a
moja
for my head. just like the yangban wear. We will have a formal tea ceremony and a wedding feast at a hotel.
Bulgogi
,
galbi
,
mandu
,
bibimbop
,
gamjatang
and
jajagmeon
,
banchan
and all the trimmings. We will invite my family, our friends, and people from Gongson. It will be a grand wedding.”

I picked at my food. “Maybe we shouldn’t spend so much,” I said. “It could be expensive.”

“It will be expensive,” he replied.

I took Chul-sun’s hand and gave it a squeeze. A flash of excitement crossed his eyes. “We will have other expenses too,” I said. “We will need money to send Soo-bo to school… and for other things.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Don’t worry. We will have enough.”

After a long silence, Chul-sun said quietly, “Ja-hee, now that we’re engaged, it would not be wrong if you went home with me tonight.”

I lowered my eyes. “I have to get home to Soo-bo.”

“It’s still early. I’ll pay a cab to take you home. You will be back to Soo-bo in plenty of time. Come home with me, Ja-hee, just for a little while.”

I peered into his face and saw how deeply he wanted me. But I wondered if he would still want me if he knew my secrets. Would he still want to take me home, make love to me, go through with the elaborate wedding and take me as his wife?

I looked at my hands. “Chul-sun,” I said softly, “I have to tell you where I went yesterday. I went to the Department of Family Records and discovered that my sister is alive and living in the North. I want to get a letter to her, but it costs a lot of money.”

“You told me your sister died when you lived in Sinuiju.”

“Yes, Chul-sun, that is what I told you.”

“I don’t understand.”

I put down my chopsticks. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said.

A cold wind was blowing from the north as we left the restaurant. I took Chul-sun’s arm and pulled myself close to him. He stayed focused on the sidewalk. I pointed down a side street away from the crowded Itaewon marketplace. I told him I wanted to marry him and have a grand wedding with a reception, a tea ceremony, and all of our friends, just like he wanted.

“But there is something you have to tell me first,” he said.

“Yes, there is,” I replied.

“Okay, tell me.”

I could have made up a story about how Soo-hee had been taken away to work in a comfort station while I had stayed on the family farm. But I had to know if Chul-sun loved me for who I really was, just like Jin-mo had. If he did, perhaps I could love him, too.

So as we walked, I told Chul-sun everything I had kept secret for so long. Everything—the comfort station, working for the communists, the
kijichon
. For the first time since I had escaped to the South, I exposed my true self, my ugly history. And when I finished, I knew that I had done the right thing. I prayed that Chul-sun would understand.

At the end, I said, “If you still want to marry me after what I have told you, I will be happy to go home with you tonight.”

I waited for his answer. After a while, he said, “You should have said no.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped and turned to me. His chin was set hard. “You should have said no, Ja-hee. When you realized the Japanese had tricked you, you should have let them shoot you. You should not have worked for the communists and you should have never gone to the
kijichon
.”

“I should have let them shoot me? Chul-sun, listen to what you are saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” he said angrily. “I am saying the honorable thing to have done is to have said no!”

As we stood on the sidewalk, the new streets and buildings of Seoul began to melt away, and in their place, I saw the comfort station, the huge iron statue of Kim Il-sung and the bar of the Hometown Cat Club. The people on the sidewalk became the Japanese soldiers who had raped me, the North Korean soldiers who had carried Jin-mo off to prison, and the American soldiers in the
kijichon
. “Chul-sun,” I begged, “please understand. If I had refused any of those times, I would have died. I was only fourteen years old in Dongfeng. I was too young to know. In Pyongyang, everything was so… so confusing. And at the
kijichon
, Soo-bo was starving. I could not let her die. Please, please accept my confession. Love me for who I am and I will love you too. Then we will be married and have a grand wedding.”

I searched Chul-sun’s face for his answer. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “I told my family about our engagement,” he said with a voice jagged and hard. “I made a big show of it! And now, I have lost face. They will think I am a fool! I will never be able to look them in the eyes again.” 

“We do not need to tell them,” I said. “Only you need to know. But you had to know. Don’t you see? It is the only way I can be sure you accept me for who I really am. It is the only way I can marry you.”

Chul-sun shook his head. “The receptionist, Mrs. Min, knows too. She told me you worked in a
kijichon
. I did not believe her. I didn’t think it was possible, but she was right. She knows!”

My head began to spin. Chul-sun grabbed me and pushed me into a wall. His fingers dug into my arm. “How can I love you after what you’ve done?” he shouted. “You have dishonored me.”

“Chul-sun, you’re hurting me,” I said.

He glared at me, squeezing my arm harder. Then with a shove, he let go and stepped back. He looked down the street. “I cannot marry you. You are not who I thought you were.”

The faces of my past swirled around me. I closed my eyes to make them stop. But Chul-sun was right, I was not who he thought I was. I had tried to keep everything a secret, but my past would always be part of me. I wished I could go back and refuse to obey the orders to work in the boot factory. It had set my life on an arc that years of honorable living could not bend straight. “Chul-sun,” I pleaded with my eyes still closed, “how could I have known the right thing to do? How?”

“You should have said no!” he said. “And you should have said no to me, too.” He gave me a long, pained look and then he walked away.

Eventually, the people and buildings in the street returned to normal and I turned for home. As I slowly walked through the busy streets of Itaewon and then over the long Map-o Bridge, I thought about my life and all that I had done. Had I made the right choices?

I stopped halfway across the bridge and looked back at the city. The lights of Seoul twinkled all around me. Below, the Han River slowly rolled to the sea. There I decided Chul-sun was wrong. Yes, I needed his money to get a letter to Soo-hee. I wanted to marry him so Soo-bo could go to high school. I even wanted to get married for myself. But if I denied that I had been a comfort woman, I would betray my
onni
and all of my
ianfu
sisters who had died in the comfort station. No, I had a higher duty to fulfill than to uphold Korea’s reputation. After all, important men like Chul-sun and those who wanted to bury the Japanese atrocities so they could build their nation were doing a fine job of that. But telling what happened to us—how we struggled and how we were able to survive—was the only way Korea would become a great nation. I could not bury it.

And I finally realized how I was to serve Korea. The two-headed dragon had protected me so I could tell my story as Soo-hee and Jin-mo said I should. It was a grave responsibility and I didn’t know how I would do it. But as I walked the rest of the way home, I vowed I would find a way.

*

The next day, the final loan agreement with Diashi Bank came through and the terms were more favorable than anyone at Gongson had hoped for. One reason given was that the chief Japanese negotiator was impressed with me. For one day, I was a hero among the women in the steno pool. “You will be made a manager soon,” Moon-kum teased as I walked by. “Then you won’t talk to us anymore.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Someday I will take over the company. And when I do, I will fire all the men.” The women laughed at my joke, covering their mouths as they did.

All that day, Mr. Han smiled openly at me the way a proud father smiles at a successful son. At noon, I ate my lunch on a bench in Namsan Park near where Chul-sun had proposed. I did not hear from him or see him all day. In the afternoon, Mr. Han told me that I could go home early, so I left Gongson and took a cab home instead of the bus. That evening, I helped Soo-bo with her English homework and went to bed early.

The next morning, when I walked by the steno pool, Moon-kum and the other women kept their eyes on their typewriters. When I said hello, no one returned my greeting. When I got to my desk, there were no contracts to work on.

Mr. Han leaned out of his office. His face was cheerless. He told me to come in his office and close the door.

The firing was quick and perfunctory. Mr. Han gave no reason. He just said that the Gongson Construction Company no longer wished to employ me. I received no severance pay for my ten years of service. I had no pension. At the end, Mr. Han held out an envelope. “Here is your back pay,” he said. “You must leave immediately.”

I took the envelope and looked directly at Mr. Han. “I always did my best, sir. Ever since I was fourteen, I have tried to do the right thing.”

The great, gray-haired attorney’s eyes softened and he nodded. “The actions that society deems respectable—what Confucius called
li
—is not always the most righteous. We must be loyal to the duty we have to our families, our ancestors and our country first—your
yi
—and only you can determine what your
yi
is.”

He smiled sadly. “Thank you for your good work, Ja-hee. Personally, I am sorry to see you go.”

I knew then that Mr. Han was a great man, like Jin-mo and Colonel Crawford, and perhaps even like young Private Ishida in some way. It made me sad that I would never see him again. I bowed low and then smiled back at him. I got my coat and headed home. I held my head high as I walked through the Gongson Construction Company lobby past Mrs. Min.