Magnolia. Agnita Tennant. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Agnita Tennant
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781898823292
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the slightest risk.’ He went on, ‘The most important thing is that we have left no clues behind whatsoever, not so much as the tip of a hair.’

      I had no wish to know anything about it. On the verge of a nervous breakdown as I was, I felt I needed protection from knowing one more fact. I weakly smiled to myself as the phrase formed in my mind, ‘Blessed are the ignorant for they shall be spared of worries.’

      He was also sure that his financial position was fairly good. The remaining fund from their operation amounted to some five million Hwan, which was in the hands of some practitioners of Chinese medicine in the form of the medicinal material. He could draw on it gradually as time went by. Then one day the country will be reunited, he believed, within three or four years at the most. It has got to come in one way or the other, or the country in a state of strangulation as it is, will just fade away.

      ‘There, I have told you all. I feel such a great relief. I have long wanted to be delivered from such a dreadful life. All I wanted was to lead an ordinary family life with a good wife like you. However, I won’t blame you if you report on me.’ Whether he noticed my nervousness or not he went on, ‘You are all to me. I don’t mind dying so much. Just that I have had you for a few days makes me the happiest of men.’

      Then something crossed my mind. According to his account I must be the only woman who knew him in the whole realm. Who was that woman who rang me yesterday? I told him about it expecting he’d be surprised but he gave his charming chuckle.

      ‘Ah, that. I arranged it. She’s the maid at the inn where I am lodging at the moment. I hope to stay on there, you see. It was a way of proving my identity.’ I must say, I was impressed by his meticulous planning.

      A long silence fell. As though even the birds were tired of calling to each other, the entire wood was as quiet as death. The only sound was the rhythmic booming of my heart. It was the sound of the engine of a ship that was about to sail and change the course of my fate regardless of my own will and wishes.

      I closed my eyes. I was to listen to the voice of my conscience and to decide on the course of my action from now on.

      As an individual, I have lived a very happy life. I certainly belonged to the privileged class in my country. At school I was a studious, exemplary pupil; at work an exemplary employee working hard and conscientiously; and in society a law-abiding, responsible citizen. Along with all these favourable conditions, I passionately love my country. The patriotism that has been bred into me ever since my childhood flows through my arteries never ceasing. Would I ever dare to commit a deed that betrays my motherland? A spy, an enemy against my country – could I love such a man?

      I opened my eyes disturbed by a rustle. A squirrel had come up from somewhere and was staring at us from just a yard away, probably puzzling out whether we were some still objects or living things. We had been that still. I looked up at him. Expressionless, his eyes and face showed he was very tired.

      ‘Poor man!’ I was overcome by a sudden upsurge of emotion of pity.

      ‘Even spies must have basic human goodness and conscience.’ I began with this hypothesis. He has his beloved mother and father back in his home. How much he must have missed them, especially his mother who went without food or sleep for a month for the worry of her beloved son. On autumn nights when the moon was bright and the crickets cried all through the night did he not cry himself to sleep for the love of his mother? Knowing perfectly well what kind of punishment awaits him in this country, he chose to remain here for his new-found love’s sake. What a fairy-tale-like story!

      What will become of him if I now abandon him? There is no doubt that I love him. We are not, by origin, aliens to be afraid of each other. Due to an unnatural division of the nation we now belong to opposite camps but surely this is not going to last long. One day soon we will be one nation and we could be lawfully married husband and wife. He says he is completely freed from his past commitment. Our love for one another can be in no way against human conscience. Apart from the political past, we can establish a happy relationship.

      ‘You can’t undo what has been done, but are you sure that you won’t be swept into it again?’ This is the only guarantee I wanted of him at the present.

      ‘I swear in the name of God,’ he said.

       Chapter 5

       At The Threshold of a New Era – Memories of a Childhood

      Following my father’s conviction that children should be ­educated in the capital, our family left the orchard village of Sapsuri and moved to Seoul when I was five. My impression of the village on the day of our departure was that of a big funeral. The whole village buzzed. Everyone in sight along the ten li road to the railway station, as we rode on a horse-cart, was weeping. Mother, holding Myŏngsŏk in her arms, was crying all the way, her face buried in her handkerchief. Father who had me on his lap sat upright with a rigid face as if he were cross, his lips tightly pressed.

      Our new house in the capital was in Sajikdong, on high ground, which was reached by what seemed like more than a hundred stone steps. It was small compared to what we were used to but great fun. It was there that for the first time I saw electric light and was amazed. From the verandah, I could see below the parapet, a black dome, like a huge umbrella sitting on the top of a building. When I was told it was the roof top of the Capital Building I was amused. Everything was wonderful.

      After moving to Seoul mother lost her health. I often heard her saying the water from the tap disagreed with her. She missed the country and most of all, she said, the water from the spring at the entrance to the orchard.

      For me life in Seoul was full of fun. In the morning, after father had gone to work and my sister and brother to school, mother, carrying Myŏngsŏk tied on her back, often went out with me exploring the city. We went to the market, department stores and sometimes went to visit my aunt on a tram. On Sundays all the family went to the Anglican Cathedral behind the Tŏksu Palace. On summer evenings, we went out to the evening market along the pavement of the main road.

      My elder brother, Hyŏngsŏk soon became the gang-leader of the kids in the alley. I was proud of him. Some evenings all the children gathered at our house for concerts. The hall was the stage, draped with bed-sheets as curtains. Under direction of Hyŏngsŏk we put on plays, sang and danced.

      Mother, eight months pregnant had a still-born baby and became seriously ill. She was bedridden for a long time. My grandmother or my aunt came to give a hand. With the onset of winter came the pickling season and piles of cabbages and mooli were brought in but left for several days unattended in the garden, covered with straw mats to keep the frost out. One day Myŏngsŏk, then three, fell ill, running a high temperature. Grandmother tried to take him to the doctor’s, but he would not be separated from his mother, crying. Mother got out of bed, quickly dressed, called for a rickshaw and set off, holding him on her lap.

      Our family practitioner was in Angukdong, not far off from the Capital Building. Either the rickshaw-man misheard the name of the street or he was mad. Or I suppose it was one of the trickeries of fate. My mother inside the carriage, wondering why it took so long, looked out of the peep-hole and saw that they were going in the opposite direction and had gone miles out of the way. She had been exposed too long to the severe cold. That night she became very ill unable even to turn over. The doctor called every day. The atmosphere at home was as heavy as lead.

      After giving birth to me and mothering me for five years my mother departed this world. I was too young to remember much about her but the last few minutes that I was with her have meant a great deal to me throughout my life. It represents my memories of her, her love of me, and serves me as the pointer of my conscience that prompts me to be good through all my life.

      As on other days, father had gone to work and my brother and sister to school. Since mother’s illness had taken a serious turn Myŏngsŏk had been taken away to be looked after by my aunt. I was alone with mother. I sat close to her. She had been very still until she stirred and called me. Her voice was weak.

      ‘Darling, are you there? Can you get me the chamber pot?’