Rodman, once again

            A day or two after I posted the piece here on Dennis Rodman and his North Korean visit, it was reported that the American visitor told his hosts that he wanted to meet “Psy,” the South Korean rock star, who has become a worldwide sensation with his “Gangnam Style” video.

But wanting to meet Psy in Pyongyang? Despite his friendship with the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong Un, Rodman apparently didn’t know the first thing about two Koreas. He was not aware obviously that Psy simply couldn’t be in North Korea to accommodate his wishes. Asking to meet Psy in North Korea is like wanting to eat a McDonald’s hamburger at a Chinese restaurant.

            Rodman has probably heard about the Korean War, recalling vaguely perhaps the facts that the North Koreans invaded the South in 1950 and that the United States and other allied forces fought, under the United Nations flag, with the South Korean Army to repel the Communist invaders.

Sure, the Korean War ended in truce in 1953. What Rodman probably didn’t know is that two Koreas are still technical at war as they have not signed a peace treaty. And under the hostile circumstances, no South Koreans are allowed to visit Pyongyang unless the North Korean dictator invites them as he did for Rodman and his friends.

The various remarks Rodman made in Pyongyang and in the United States after his return betrayed his ignorance of the situations in Koreas. But I am not surprised because I have run into many Americans who, like Rodman, were unable to distinguish between the two Koreas and say which side is America’s ally and which one is developing long-range missiles and nuclear bombs to fight the United States.

(END)

 

Judging people by the friends they keep

     I have nothing against Dennis Rodman. As National Basketball Association (NBA) players go, he was an above-average player, for sure, but it was his antics that attracted the attention of basketball fans more than anything. If the fans were to pick one great player purely on his athletic ability or even his charisma, there are a plenty of them, other than Rodman, to choose from.

     Strangely, though, Rodman's playing as well as his antics must have enthralled, of all people, Kim Jong Un when the current North Korean dictator was studying as a teenager in Switzerland. Year later, remembering him, Kim apparently invited Rodman to Pyongyang. And Kim has entertained the visitor with a sumptuous banquet after watching a game together between a North Korean team and the Harlem Globetrotters who accompanied Rodman.

     Press report said that Kim and Rodman have even vowed to keep their friendship in the rest of their lives. Hearing the news, I recalled a saying: "You can judge a person by the friends he or she keeps." But a dictator and a clown on the basketball court? They sure make an odd couple, I thought.

     It was also reported that Kim has expressed the hope that Rodman's visit would help thaw the frigid relations between North Korea and the United States. It is a good news, of course, provided the remark was not just a diplomatic nicety the 29-year-old leader of the Coimmunist nation was exercising.

     When I heard the news, I almost exclaimed: "A good show, Dennis!" After all, President Nixon established ties with China following his visit to Beijing with a U.S. table tennis team. The visit was later dubbed "ping-pong diplomacy." If Rodman's visit brings about a similar result, maybe we should give him some credit and call his visit the "slam-dunk diplomacy" or something.

     Being an eternal pessimist, however, I don't believe that there would be a thaw in the relations between Washington and Beijing as long as North Korea keeps developing nuclear bombs and refusing to denuclearize the Korean peninsula. His friendship with Rodman notwithstanding, Kim Jong Un cannot afford to give up his nuclear ambition. For, he knows it means the end of his regime and the Kim dynasty.
       (END)

December 12, 2012

     The world, if you remember, was to end on Dec. 12 last year, according to some astronomical "theory," or groundless prediction. Luckily for most of us and to the great "disappointment," no doubt, of those who believed in such a theory, no meteorite has struck the earth. Nor has a worldwide nuclear holocaust taken place, wiping out all creatures from the face of our planet.

    The good old sun kept rising from the east every day and we all went with our business as usual. And as for as I know, not even doomsday believers or religious, scientific or other organizations have publicly stated as to why the world did not end as feared. Newspapers and TVs also chose not to remind the public what has happened or rather has not happened on that day.

   As far the doomsday believers, I could not help wondering about some of them who had hoarded bottled water and food like canned stuff and instant noodle (ramyon) in the belief that they would be the only survivors even if the world was completely destroyed. Are they incurable pessimists or hopeless optimists? Whatever they are these dizzy people would never come to their senses; they would jump on another similar prediction as soon as some people with ulterior motives of their own set a plausible date, like, Friday the 13th, 2013,  on which the world would end..., er, again.

   Meanwhile, I can only sympathize with those believers who had stockpiled the food for survival; they have to consum them even if they get sick of eating the same stale thing so long.

An absurd world

There was a brief newspaper report that caught my eyes the other day. It was about an old Korean man who was making a meager living by picking garbage, mostly recyclable papers on Seoul streets, and selling them for a few hundred won. The old man, who is living alone, is a recipient of a bronze medal from the U.S. government for his bravery during the Korean War (1950-53). He was a member of KATUSA (the Korean Augmentation to the U.S. Army), who were assigned to fight against the common enemy along with American soldiers.

            Details of his life before his retirement were not disclosed. But the report said he tried to receive the Korean government’s financial support that is given regularly to most veterans who had served in the Korean army during the war. The stipend is said to be not much, but for many old men in situations like his, the sum of money, however small it may be, can help them eke out a living.

But the South Korean government refused to give him the support because the bronze medal he received was an honor bestowed on him by the United States and not by South Korea, the report said.

When I heard the news, I was puzzled by the Seoul government’s reasoning for rejecting his request. For, regardless of which allied nation has honored him with a military medal, the fact remains that he had fought bravely for his country in the war against the invading Communist enemy from the North.

I realize that the government, burdened by perennial budget deficits, is trying to curb its spendings as much as it could. Nevertheless, I believe it shouldn’t begrudge its monetary support for the single veteran who has also risked his life for the country.

Ironically, the government has been more than generous toward the violent anti-government rioters and demonstrators. Since leftist politicians took power with the inauguration of Kim Dae-jung as President of the country in 1998, they have been giving money to the families of those who were killed during their seditious "struggle” against the government and the nation that they claimed was controlled by the "rightist dictators" in the '60s and '70s.

 

But can any one make sense out of this kind of government policies that refuse to support the old war veterans while paying monetary compensations to the relatives of those who got killed while fighting the nation’s police officers and army troops? It's absurd, to say the least.

A Pied Piper of Korean Politics

South Koreans elect their president every five years and the next election is scheduled for November, 2012. It’s a bit too early, therefore, to try and predict an outcome but, judging by the way things are developing, a 49-year-old computer guru and hitherto rank political outsider is expected to win the election hands down.

Ahn Cheol-soo, founder of anti-virus vaccine firm, AhnLab, emerged recently, like a shooting star, as the front-runner for the next presidential election. According to the latest opinion poll, he is heavily favored to win the presidency with more than 50 percent of support, far outstripping the nearest contender, Park Geun-hye, who had long been regarded as a clear leader among possible candidates. She is the elder daughter of President Park Chung-hee and former chairwoman of the ruling conservative party, Hannaradang.

This astonishing development is taking place even before Ahn himself said anything about his intention to run for president, much less enunciating publicly what his political philosophy is and what kind of policies he would implement if and when he becomes the nation’s chief executive.

Ahn is riding the crests of sweeping popularity and is tantalizing his followers by refusing to clarify his political ambition immediately. Perhaps, he is acting on a carefully worked out strategy. At a recent press conference, he said he was not considering forming a political party or running in the elections for representatives to the National Assembly in April. But he declined to say whether he would run for president.

The sudden rise in Ahn’s popularity is attributed by analysts and commentators to a widespread negative perception of the corrupt and arrogant politicians of today. A vast number of voters, especially those in their 20s through 40s, are fed up with incompetent and self-serving politicians. That is why Ahn’s emergence on the political stage, however reluctant he may be, is a breath of fresh air to most voters, no doubt.

A physician-turned-IT mogul, Ahn said earlier last month that he would donate half of his stocks in AhnLab he founded in 1995, to help relieve the poor of their economic hardship. Ahn is said to own some 37 percent of AhnLab shares, currently worth 302.4 billion won (269 million U.S. dollars). His pledge was seen by many as part of preparations for his presidential bid.

Earlier in September, Ahn was criticized in the National Assembly over a sudden surge in AhnLab stock price which has nearly tripled in value after rumors circulated that he would run for Seoul mayor. He resigned as CEO of AhnLab in March 2005, but has been serving as chairman of directors. He is also dean of Seoul National University’s Graduate School of Convergence Science and Technology.

Ahn became an overnight sensation after he has reportedly expressed interest in running in the mayoral by-election in Seoul on Oct. 26. But he later bowed out and threw his support for little known leftist political activist and his friend Park Won-soon. And thanks to Ahn’s well-publicized support, Park scored an easy victory over a ruling party candidate.

It is still unclear where Ahn stands politically but his association with Seoul Mayor Park is any indication, he would probably be a “progressive” candidate, backed by all the leftist groups that are now opposing President Lee Myung-bak and his ruling conservative party.

To be sure, between now and next November, a lot of things could happen so that his political fortune could take a wrong turn. But as long as today’s messy political conditions persist with politicians doggedly following their sleazy and disgusting ways, we can safely predict that Ahn could be swept into the Blue House by this time next year. For, his bandwagon seems to have started rolling already and lots of voters are getting on board. Like those children in Hamelin, Germany, who followed the Pied Piper blindly, they are determined to follow him without knowing exactly where they are going.
(END)

Living with Crazy Neighbors

South Koreans were attacked by their fellow Koreans in the North so often and almost routinely that they seem to have become insensitive and immune to the continuing aggression from the North.

Maybe, we in the South are such a nice and tolerant people who love our cousins in the North so much that we forgive them generously, instead of reacting to their attacks with corresponding intensity, every time they perpetrate their fratricidal crime against us.

Or maybe we are really scared stiff of the North Koreans who are threatening to reduced us and our country to ashes with their nuclear bombs and other terrible weapons of mass destruction.

Although we don’t admit publicly but deep down, we all realize that our armed forces are no match to their counterparts in the North and therefore could not defend our country by ourselves alone. We are such a meek and gutless people, in other words, that we could not muster a measure of courage to stand up against the crazy and despicable tyrant and his loyal followers in Pyongyang and teach them an unforgettable lesson that we, unlike their own cowed and trembling people, would not put up with their cruel and inhuman behavior.

Whatever the reason, we have shown an amazing, almost infinite, degree of patience and stoic tolerance toward the North Koreans who have attacked our nation and killed hundreds of innocent people since the War ended in truce in 1953.

As the North Korean launched their attacks with impunity, even with contempt, South Koreans, for their part, have developed the pattern of their meek reaction, which seems to have become routine as well.

In the latest attack, the North Koreans shelled a South Korean island in the West Sea, just south of the Northern Limit Line, killing two marines and two civilians and injuring 18 on Nov. 23.

Pundits and scholars in South Korea, the United States and other Western countries tried, as usual, to figure out why Kim Jong-il and his lackeys were behaving the way they did. But there cannot be any clear and rational explanation because these are acts of irrational people.

It is easy to believe that the North Korean leaders are a bunch of crazed men and women; what I don’t understand is, there are equally crazy people amid us in the South, who are blindly following the cruel dictator in Pyongyang. These are leftist politicians, unionists, radical teachers and students who are sympathetic to and supportive of Kim Jong-il and his regime.

I wouldn’t go so far as to describe them as “enemies within,” but they represent, without doubt, a dangerous element in our society which could play a dangerous and extremely damaging role, if another all-out war breaks out in Korea.

After a North Korean submarine was found to have fired a torpedo and sank a South Korean naval vessel, killing 46 sailors last March, Pyongyang denied the responsibility for the attack, despite the findings of an international investigation. That was not all. Resorting to its favoring game of turning the table on the victims, it outrageously claimed that the sinking was the work of the South Korean government.

These North Korean claims were parroted by the afore-mentioned people in the South who follow the Dear Leader blindly with what appears to be unswerving loyalty.

But who in their right mind with a modicum of intelligence would believe that the administration of their elected president is such a rotten, inhuman government that it could think of, let alone carry out, such a horrible crime against its own people?

In the wake of the latest attack, these people and others as well as China, North Korea’s only ally, are urging the rest of the world, as usual, to talk to the North Koreans to defuse the tension and negotiate a peaceful resolutions of “Korean problems.”

But haven’t we had enough talks in the past half a century? What had we gotten out of those talks? What have we achieved in our talks with those crazy people except to let them make a number of nuclear bombs and continue their attacks against the South?

Talking with insane people to work out a sensible solution is a senseless thing to do. It is an exercise in futility at best.

There is a saying in Korea that the best and only way to treat a mad dog is a good thrashing with a stick. Those insane people in the North need a good beating. For they, like mad dogs, fear and understand only the brutal and merciless force.

To be sure, we may have to pay a considerable price, including the loss of lives, in order to put an end to this senseless life-and-death game that North Korea is forcing us to play. But we must act, sooner rather than later, if we are to keep our hard-earned freedom and advancing economy.
(END)

Something I Couldn't Erase From My Memory

My mother, who had been suffering from a serious heart disease for several years, tried to kill herself by cutting her own throat with a knife when I was 13.

A few days before the incident, my father had taken her to a Christian missionary hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, where she was diagnosed with a defective heart valve, but she was told to go home because the doctors there couldn’t do anything for her. It was too late to treat her, they said.

Realizing that it was pointless to keep suffering, she had apparently decided to end her own life. Father found her in the bedroom just in time to wrest the knife from her hand and call a doctor. Even though she was awfully weak and frail already and despite a heavy loss of blood, she somehow survived thanks to quick emergency treatment.

I was at school all morning that day without knowing what had happened; when I came home in the afternoon, she was sleeping under sedation. I saw a trace of blood that had seeped out and stained the white gauze that was wrapped around her neck.

Watching her pale, emaciated face, I was too stunned to feel—much less, think of—anything. I just sat on the floor where Mother lay on a thin mattress. Mother was so still I thought she was either asleep or dead.

After a while, I realized that though she was extremely weak, she was conscious of her surroundings. I even detected a trace of what looked like a faint smile on her face.

“What is it, Mother?” I asked her. “Is there anything you want?”
“I have messed thing up, haven’t I?” she said. “But don’t be frightened; you are a big boy now.”

Her voice was barely audible; I had to lean forward to listen to what she was saying. “After I die,” she went on, “you will have a new and healthy mother who will take a good care of you.”

“What are you saying,” I mumbled but I couldn’t go on and tell her to stop talking nonsense.

It was then that I realized I resented Mother for what she had done not only to herself, but, more importantly, to me.

The train of thought that ran through my young mind went something like this: there I was, her only son, whom she said she loved despite her long illness and suffering, and yet, she was ready to go away and “abandon” me. It was very selfish of her, I thought, to leave her loved one behind and “try to go away alone.”

The realization of that fact was pretty unsettling as I felt that her attempt to kill herself was a kind of betrayal. But it soon dawned on me that I was the selfish one for thinking only of myself while I’d cared very little about how much Mother must have suffered to have wanted to end it all with her own hand.

She died a week later. Father, who always insisted that I should never miss a day at school, told me to stay home that day. He must have had some kind of premonition.

I stayed at Mother’s bedside all morning but in the afternoon, a friend dropped in to find out why I had skipped school. While the friend and I were in another room, talking about a book we had both read recently, Mother was left alone and death must have come then.

It was Father who discovered her and called me and other members of the family into the room. By then, it was too late.

The funeral rite was held at a Buddhist temple on the western outskirts of Seoul. Mother was neither a Buddhist nor a Christian. But she had believed in the supernatural. In other words, she was superstitious.

I do not know who decided to hold her funeral at the Buddhist temple three days after her death. It must have been customary at that time for most Koreans to cremate the dead after holding the funeral at a temple. And we must have just followed the custom, although no member of our family was Buddhist.

The temple was about 500 meters up a hill behind the crematorium.
Before we left for the temple, they placed the wooden casket on a trolley in front of one of the four furnaces. A crematory worker told us we could stay there a while and watch the casket going into the furnace. I wanted to stay. I felt I had to see Mother for the last time before she would be reduced to ashes.

Even at that age, I could see that it would be one of the most painful moments in the funeral processes: while mourners stood around, the crematory worker would open the thick glassy door for us to see the fire roaring inside the cylindrical chamber into which mother in the casket would be pushed by the worker. If you are the “chief mourner” of the deceased you are supposed to watch the process, he said.

But as it was too painful, especially for such a young chief mourner, like myself, the worker explained we could leave the job for them. And my father said we had better go to the temple right away to attend the funeral rite.
The rite at the temple was a drawn-out affair.

A faded black-and-white photo of Mother, which must have been taken years before when she was relatively healthy, was placed on the altar. She looked like a stranger to me perhaps because I had not known such a healthy looking mother in all my life.

A monk recited a long, unintelligible scripture while we kneeled on the floor and bowed to a huge, gleaming bronze statue of Buddha, and stood up just to repeat the process again and again. At the end of the prayer service, the monk explained to me: “Now, the soul of your mother can leave this world because of the infinite mercy of Buddha.”

After the rite, we were led to a dinning hall where rows of dishes of steamed rice and vegetarian foods were laid out. My sisters, uncles and aunts and other members of our family ate hungrily. When I thought about it, we had not had a substantial meal for three straight days and they must have been starving. Watching them wolfing the food down, I, too, felt ravenous, and yet, my mouth was extremely dry, and I felt I could not swallow anything even if I tried.

I sneaked out of the dining room and crossed the front yard of the temple to the edge of the cliff from where I could watch the crematorium. A wisp of smoke was coming out of its chimney and disappeared into the air even though there was hardly any wind in the dull, early spring weather.

The chimney was extremely tall. Then, I remembered hearing that it wasn’t tall at first, but the crematorium was forced to raise its height after the people in nearby villages complained of the smell of burning flesh almost every day.

Vaguely, I wondered how many dead bodies were cremated there. Hundreds? Thousands?

Then suddenly I realized that I was trying to force myself to think of something that had nothing to do with my mother, who, at that very moment, was being reduced to a handful of ashes and smoke that was emitting from the chimney and disappearing into the thin air.

I wondered whether my mother felt the heat in there—the suffocating and insufferable heat—had she been able, perchance, to feel as we, the living, do. Of course, there was no way of knowing whether the soul of dead persons could feel anything. And yet I could not help wondering about it.

Until then, I have never thought of what might be “the best way to go” after death. Which would be better? Burned to ashes or buried deep in the cold, dark, damp ground? Actually, when they told me that Mother was going to be cremated, I thought it wasn’t such a bad idea. But then, when I thought of the heat, that awful heat she had to suffer, I felt a cold shiver running down my spine.

When we returned to the crematorium, they had already pulled the trolley out of the furnace and a heap of ashes with some fragmentary white bones scattered among them were ready for us to pick up. I was given a pair of big wooden sticks to pick the bones and deposit them into a ceramic urn along with some ashes.

I could still feel the heat that emanated from the remains. In addition, perhaps because of the awfully hot atmosphere of the hall, I felt beads of sweat running down my face.

“Let’s hurry up,” my father, standing behind me, said to no one in particular. “We have to catch the last bus from the station in the village and we haven’t got much time.”

After depositing most of the ashes into the urn, we left the crematorium for the village. As mother’s only son, I was asked to carry the urn in a cloth contraption that hung from my neck while I held it with both my hands. As we walked down a narrow, winding road in a single file, I was surprised to find how light the entire remains of my mother were. I also felt the warmth of Mother’s ashes through the ceramic urn that I was holding against my chest.

Then suddenly and for the first time since Mother had died, tears started welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision, in spite of myself. Right after Mother died, I had told myself not to show tears in front of others if I could help it.

To this day, I do not know why I made such a resolution. Anyway, all of a sudden, tears started flowing, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I handed the urn to my father, told everybody to go ahead and leave me alone for a while. I then sat down on the side of the road and, after making sure nobody was watching me, I wept with abandon.
(END)