|
Man is like a dog. men
are like dogs. why? because when they meet, thet are going to fight,
eachother, men in mind and on face, dog barking.....
I think it is all same to
a man and a dog. I think we are not good and not upper class than
dogs, except little man and woman. I am listening the classic gold,
even though I am a dog, I like pop songs oldies but goodies, because
they make me feel happy, remind me of the past days.
Today Seoul is very hot,
35°C! I am a writer, a novelist, wrote one just book of korean
fiction. Not very sold. Did not make money. Poor in the mind and at
home. But there are more people, who are poorer than me, so I must
say I am rich. In my mind.
The dog, not a god. The
dog that thinks much. I am not barking loudly. Why? A coward. So
non-barking. I am not so bad dog. I am not, because it is a deep
night. Next day is a little cool windy summer, better than
yesterday, so i feel better. So simple, me and the life. I forgot
that i was a dog. A little good, some bad, coward dog, not god. I
sometimes think I am a god. So i said like god, not acting like god.
If not interested, donīt more read the dog fiction.
Last night, I was very
angry, because of my fault. I cry out to my family. It was my
mistake. Sorry for all, really I was fool, fool dog. No, I was not a
god. Just a dog, barking, a angry animal, a dog. Not wise, sorry to
all.
I have thought I have
been a fun dog, good and wise, but I was not so last night. I am
tired out. Everyday. Now just take a rest, but I must go to teach, I
like to write like this, resting, but I can not, just for all, I
must endure myself.
I am idle and sleepy dog,
you know, oh you do not know. The happy dog or the sad dog? Sad? no
it's a lie, because you are eating everyday, drink every day, meet
your family, why are you sad? It is a lie? The truth is I am a idle
dog, sometimes brave, I dislike the false and the untruth. I like
the justice, good society, good human around. But there are so many
bad leaders! Why? The big problem is they are the
leaders.
Oh, I forgot I am a dog,
sorry. The dogīs cry out is noisy, isnīt it? Eventhough I am wise,
the fact that I am a dog is not changed. I am typing a computer, I
am a dog, I can see the right and the wrong. They call me dog, but
that is my real name.
I know a man, he is my
master, short, but looks healthy. 40 years old, man. He is teaching
literature at the Korean university. The lecturer. Not a professor.
The cheap money he got from his wife. Young but fat. Much fatter
than you think. Anyway, sometimes he is very kind to me. Sometimes
not. I donīt understand his acting.
Do not believe me, belive
yourself who are always believable. If you can believe, then
believe, that my master is a good person. I know it is not so good
action. But think! Not to think is good?
I am waiting for my
master coming back from school. He does not go to school every
saturday and sunday. He is a good man, I think. He does not study
hard, but he did when he was young, I heard from him. He dinīt study
university lecturing, but he teaches greatly, wisely. I imagine his
teaching from his usual talking attitude. My English is not good?
Understand me, because I am a Korean dog.
Today my master went to
school to teach something at the Korean university. I donīt know
what he teaches, but I imagine the literature or the language. He
looks tired today, I imagine too, that the buses and cars so
crowded, bad air, no rain in summer city Seoul, dry, hot. My poor
master! I rested enough at home today, just looking outdoor. Some
barking to the bad guys. It was happiness to bark, because I am a
dog, not god. No, understand me, I am a dog writer... Why does the
master continue to teach? For money.
One rainy night. the
master did not come back home, so late. This non-brave dog was at
the outside, to find his master. I thought he was so drunken not
come back until 12 o'clock. The traffic accident? I was a little
frighten. I must find my master, so I became brave like
this.
Late rainy night. I have
never seen the master has come back home after 12 o'clock, these
days. In the heavy rain, I can not find him My master's the lonesome
and the poor and the justice! But where is he now? I have already
come around the dirty city several times from 12 o'clock. Waited?
No? Yes. Still busy now in the heavy rain. I found at last
something, lay on the wet black way. THE MASTER! He was not moving
at all, I smelt up the smell of the the Macgully, korean wine. I'd
like to cry out. My master's face looked like crying. I sat aside of
my master, to heat up his cold body, which was cold like the ice, so cold, so
cold and so sad under the cold heavy rain.
***
Yellow City
1.
It was like a dream life.
I am 55 years old. My young days were full of the lies. But I
thought it was for goodness, those days. I have not lived for other
people, no. I have even not lived for my family, no, I've not lived
for my own body. Here, the only virtual things left. Now, I am
watching the vacuity only. I thought that days it was my action, but
always languages, thoughts. I was not enough to do an act. And they
did not speak so much to me. They did not be proud of goodness and
knowledge. But they did good things, and they were kind people. But
I have done the bad things, unknown to anyone. I have lived in my
castle, by myself and touched them in my castle too. Now the bad
things are left to my family and everybody. But I donīt say this
again, because I donīt want to say it two times, to hurt my heart
and mind again! I am going just to tell a story of Mr. Jang and me,
both sweeping up the street now.
2.
Me and Jang, we are
working at night not to be seen by people's eyes. The time to sweep
up the street is always at dawn, and at night we swept up dirty
rubbish and papers in front of every house. Me and Jang, we are
always afraid of young people. When we meet them, we feel itīs
better to go into the mice hole. Because they are young, rich and we
are old and poor. Jang says, heīs ashamed of his job. He hates the
dirty poor job that smells up. The same with me. But I was less than
Jang. I hated to go into rich people's apartment and villas. I was
afraid of falling into the hell. I felt the houses were full of the
gas which was not moving at all, there were not even mouses. Oh, yes
I am afraid of such calm belt and no sound! For us, the worst
apartment was Hankuk villa. The Hankuk villa was at the long calm
lane me and Jang swept up everyday. I put on my yellow cap deeply,
when I go to the Hankuk villa. And I returned out fast in a sweat.
In Hankuk villa, there was no smell to live. The people inside hated
to meet us.
One day, an old woman who
put on her sun glasses drove a deluxe car to me, like crashing
against me, when I swept up. She did not said a word. If she said "I
am sorry", I could say "it's all right." Insult. She added insult to
injury. Yes, it was insult. Contempt..... Even, two guards who guard
the Hankuk villa never say to me. They also think they are rich men
as if they live in Hankuk villa. But they always said, "Rich people
are just like fools. They can not fix a leak." And then, why are
they not saying, "hello"? I do not know why. Seoul was such city.
Korea in 1995 was so. And I hated to meet two men. They are young
men, one is older than the other one. When I went to Hankuk villa to
sweep, I always met them, because they were smoking in front of
stairs. The younger one, who looks twenty, used to smokes in front
of me (in front of old man just like his father), and to pitch a
cigaret butt, and to go upstairs, saying to me "hoohoohoo". Why does
he say "hoohoohoo" to me? I don't know why. But I know it is
contempt.
And the other one, who
looks like married, used to avoid me. Why? Because I am a dirty
sweep? Anyway, the Hankuk villa was calm except two young men and
two guards. There were no mouses around, only too many expensive
cars. And when I meet the moving car, I hung down my head because of
shame, shameful job. The Hankuk villa is rich, small town. But there
were so much rubbish. So my sweep waggon was always full of the
rubbish. So it was always dangerous to go down the steep hill with
much rubbish. Dangerous like flying circus. We climbed the steep
hill, and climbed down from 10 o'clock at night till 5 o'clock at
dawn. We are always tired out in the winter or in the summer, with
rotten smell from our bodies. But there was no way except bearing.
What can I do? I did not learn so much, I did not go to
school.
Down the hill, near the
construction working place, there was a place, where we can drink
macgully, korean wine. There, construction crew and drunk always
gathered. It was a poor place with no ceiling. The cold winter wind
gathered inside. An old woman boiled an egg and bean sprouts soup
and haejangkuk soup. The side dish was kimchi. The old woman looks
60 years old, but it is said her real age is 50. Her face was dirty,
than us, I wondered she washed her face. Her hair was white and
dirty under the ears. But it was the best place, where we could
drink macgully and talk about our work, home, hope, and worm
story.
We tied up our bloody
hands with the newspaper, because of broken glass in the rubbish.
And it was the time to clean out our lungs filled with dust. The
giant sub-way train was running above the macgully house. That train
was so noisy. We felt the noise like side dish. The good noise to
drink rough macgully. We felt the warmth, the giant metals, train.
The train was running everyday everytime, loading people who are
leaving for somewhere. The moving giant metals.
Though I am full of dirty
smell, I am alive, and drinking macgully with side dish kimchi,
hearing the noise of the train. To be alive! To be lived! To live!
The summer rain was pouring down, that day. When I climbed down the
hill of Hankuk villa at deep night, I found Jang drawing his waggon
of the rubbish. He was too small that day to draw his sweep waggon.
He looked like an ant to draw a big insect. I said: "Hi, Jang, hurry
up, and let's go to drink, o.k?"
He hung down his head to
draw his sweep waggon, with deep hot breathing. "Oh, why so much
rubbish, today!" I said. We got a minute's breathing, smoking on the
hill, to go down the steep slope. Mr. Jang could not smoke well
because of his deep breathing. The rough summer rain was pouring
down above our heads, following a street light. At that time Jang
said: "Let's go, hurry up! Let's take a rest down the hill." He was
already drawing his sweep waggon, but I was still smoking, so I
said: "Uhm... o.k, be careful, Jang!"
He looked very uneasily
because of the heavy waggon. I was watching him drawing waggon with
breathless anxiety. I said, "Go slow, go with me, Iīll help you."
But Jang said, "Don't worry...." I could not hear his voice well
because of the pouring rain. At that moment, Jang's step was slid
over, his waggon pushed him, it went down itself fast, left Jang
under the waggon. "Ah!" I heard Jang's scream in the dark. "Jang!
Jang!" I run down the steep hill. I could finger his hot bleeding
head in the rain. He was unconscious. "Hey, Jang, Jang! Wake up!" I
screamed out. He was calm. I tied up his bleeding head with my
yellow shirts, I carried him on my back, and run to the hospital. I
felt his hot bleed on my back.
Youngkan Kim is a
Korean novelist, who lives in Seoul, the city of 10,000,000 people.
His book of fiction HEORIBARAM was published in Korea in
1994.
The short story Yellow
city was selected as Asian writing and published in USA Crab
Orchard review 1998/summer. and Yellow city was published in
Korean literature magazine MOONHAKSEGE in 1996. The dog
and me is his new short story.
kimyoung@korea.com http://myhome.thrunet.com/~kimyoung/
|