Emigrant Sensibility in the Age of Globalization (11): Remembering the Country of Forever Spring ①
By Luna
Published:
October 20, 2015
Translated
by Jieun Lee
Editor’s
note: Vacation, business travel, migrant labor, language study, study abroad,
international marriage, immigration—many of us have such experiences of
crossing national borders, and there are many immigrants living in our country.
Ilda examines the emigrant sensibility we will need in order to live equally
and peacefully in the age of globalization. This series is supported by the
Korea Press Foundation’s Press Promotion Fund.
Missing Some Things in the Place that I Left
A one
year trip around the world. That was my plan when I left South Korea
Before
leaving South Korea
 |
| On the way back home from the Café La Luna when I was living in |
As I
look back, when I was outside of this country, I realize that I very badly
missed some things in South
Korea
“The
worst thing is to miss somewhere else while living here.”
This
person, now in her late forties, was born in South
Korea , spent her teens and twenties in Argentina , and came back to South Korea South Korea South Korea ,
she wanted to go back to Argentina
“Anyway,
South Korea
I
wondered when I would be able to say those words.
Xela Greeted Me with a Story Prepared Especially for My
Future
One
year after I left, I stayed at a village bordering a huge lake, in Atitlan , Guatemala Belgium
“It’s easy to travel for eight years. It’s simple.”
After
some time passed, I ended up fully understanding that statement, which I had
not understood at that moment. A few weeks after my stay at Atitlan ,
I arrived in Xela, the city that was waiting for me with a story prepared
especially for my future. Later, that place became a space that I called home
for more than four years.
My
trip, which started from San Francisco, USA—and felt like a split second—took
over one year until I was about to leave North America. It took such a long
time not only because of the huge size of the U.S.
 |
| The Xela skateboard park with a graffiti of Quetzal, a Mayan bird. © Luna |
Xela is the second largest city in
On the
other side, Guatemala Guatemala
Many
visitors are fascinated by the layouts of the streets in this city where the
colonial style of the division of the city copied the configurations of old
cities in Europe . So was I. There are dark,
winding, and narrow paths like a maze; lights from small shops located at the
corners; and a stoned ground not made for cars or humans but for horses passing
by.
The
main reason why I ended up staying in Xela for over one month was to take a
Spanish language class. That was not only because most of the countries I
travelled to were Spanish language countries in Central and South
America , but also because I needed to learn Spanish to travel
better. As Xela is a place where people use an appropriate speaking pace and
have clear pronunciation, there are many foreigners who stay there in order to
take Spanish language courses.
There
are many cases in which travelers stayed there for at least two or three weeks,
some staying for one more months because they are fascinated by the upbeat
atmosphere, and then others even ending up staying for over one year. A number
of communities, created by foreigners who left their homes and temporarily
stayed there, unofficially and publicly became part of the culture in Xela.
At the Community House where Foreigners Live Together
“China
People
in Xela called all Asians Chino or China
 |
| One windy morning at the window of where “I used to live” © Luna |
The
atmosphere of the place where I lived in Xela was different from the one
outside in the street. It was a sort of humble and rural community house where
foreigners lived together, that had eight individual rooms, a spacious front
yard, bathroom, etc, that people shared.
There
are various reasons for young people in their twenties or thirties, mostly from
North America and Europe, to come to Xela: people come in order to have a long
vacation, learn Spanish, or do volunteering work for different kinds of
associations; some people come to work or settle down after wandering to many
places; others become fascinated by Xela and feel that they can live longer
there; and others, still, come to Xela because they could not find jobs in
their own countries and settle here because of the low-cost of living.
I spent
enough time in Xela and Guatemala that I can generalize what I experienced
there. However, the time that I spent there is the reason why I feel it difficult
to generalize my experiences. That is why I do not want to compare a genuine
story that one has to another genuine story such as that of Richard’s, an American
in his sixties, who stayed in the house with me for a fairly long time, who had
needed to leave his own country, and what he really wanted to attain from
Guatemala, because I was deeply part of other people’s stories too.
So,
after coming back from there with a certain outlook and a number of
incomparable stories, I still sometimes feel so touched and moved to tears that
I cannot answer the questions whenever I am asked about stories from Guatemala.
Cooking Became a Way of Expressing Myself
It is a
common expression to call the weather in Guatemala a forever spring. Although
the daytime sunshine is strong enough to dry laundry hung out in early morning
then folded right after lunch, one does not sweat, unless one runs. Even though
at dawn or at night the weather is chilly enough that one should wear a layer
of sweaters, there is also no desperate need for heating appliances and no snow.
The annual temperature range has no severe gaps and the climate has only two
separate seasons in one year: six months of rainy season and six months of dry
season. The all-year round cool weather was the other reason that made me stay
in Xela longer.
 |
| “My Neighbors,” foreign friends I met in Xela. © Luna |
The
Native people in Xela were pretty kind to me as a single Asian woman. Because
foreigners from English speaking countries or Europe had an easier time
communicating with each other, this made me feel comparatively much closer to
the Native people.
Due to
the fact that it was rare to see Asian people, especially Korean people,
whenever I joined a group of foreigners they were unconditionally delighted
stating that “our atmosphere is really international!” Interestingly, when I
cooked to eat in the communal kitchen, all of my neighbors wanted to taste the
food—even if just a fried vegetable—and were eager to find out what kind of
healthy food diet an Asian person followed.
Whether
[their expectation] made me feel uncomfortable in the kitchen or not, I didn’t
show it because cooking gave me such energy. By handling various types of
vegetables bought from the market, I felt like the energy of these items transmitted
to my entire body via my hands. In the course of washing, cutting, frying, and
mixing them, I was able to not only disperse unnecessary thoughts and meditate
silently, but also to gain newly found courage and even come up with new ideas
or solutions to problems.
Whenever
I cooked something copiously seasoned without measure—gauging only with my
senses—then it turned out to be delicious, and I was extremely proud of myself
as if I had succeeded a laboratory experiment. Cooking was kind of a way of
expressing myself as if I could communicate fully under the condition of
language. I told the people in my house that if I mentioned to my family and
friends in South Korea that I had cooked here, they wouldn’t believe me. The
people laughed at me and said they did not believe what I just told them.
Having Tortillas Everyday with Chati’s Family
About a
month later, I made a Guatemalan boyfriend. He was an alcoholic who was
involved with a lot of women, and who had anorexia. Perhaps feeling sorry for
me living with their problematic son, his family invited me for lunch every
three days and asked about their son who did not visit them often, not even
once a week.
 |
| Chati’s dining table. The main plate with Tortilla or Tamale, made of corn powder, is a typical Guatemalan meal. © Luna |
Because
my Spanish was not very good, I always preferred to help them in kitchen. It
was more difficult for me to just sit and smile without talking especially as I
wanted to let his mother know that I felt a very deep empathy toward her and
her worries. Since his mother, Chati, was a Guatemalan woman who prepared a fine
and delicious meal even with little money, I was lucky enough to not only have
Guatemalan homemade food every day, but also learn how to cook and participate
in their food culture.
Guatemalan
meal consists of Tortilla or Tamale, which are made of corn power, and a main
plate. Tortilla or Tamale, compared to a Korean meal, are the same as rice.
They are served without any sauce but with meat, vegetable, beans, rice, etc.
with the main plate.
Most
families in Xela do not make Tortilla or Tamale by themselves but buy them from
a local store right before their meal, thus serving them warm covered by a
garment in order to prevent the dish to get cold. Due to the fact that they are
made only of corn powder not flour, they are easy to digest. Guatemalans find
energy and a feeling of being fully satiated from Tortilla just like Koreans do
from rice.
Having
Tortilla with Chati’s family gradually colored the part of my soul with
Guatemalan spirit and consciousness. Tortilla became more and more delicious to
me and I never tired of having Tortilla.
Sophia—the
Goddess of Luck whom I met in Xela—was Chati’s eldest daughter’s three year old
child. She was the family’s mood maker who shook up the melancholic atmosphere
of the house, like a shark in the sea, invigorating and making everybody happy.
That pretty girl constantly followed me everywhere and imitated my every
gestures including when I was doing the kitchen chores so that all the family
members took notice. It seemed that I suddenly appeared as a cast member in
their family soap opera during this girl’s important stage of psychological
development. Since Sophia always shouted calling out my name “Luna, Lu-Na-!”
the other family members gradually showed their hearts to me and opened the
hidden parts of their family history.
 |
| Sophia. I grew up with you there at that time. © Luna |
One
day, while having tea after a meal, Chati talked to me in a quiet tone and told
me, without shedding a single tear, about her unhappy childhood in her
hometown: her sexual molestation by relative, the severe poverty during her
early marriage, her husband and son’s lies throughout her life, etc. I felt
that her natural grace as a human being, who had experienced such turbulences,
difficulties and poverty in her life, was as sad as it was beautiful.
Growth, the Experience of Becoming a Family in a Faraway
Place
Rosa,
whose house is the Spanish institute where I used to study, was a single woman,
who also used to often feed me Tortilla for lunch in her kitchen after class.
Isabel, her close to seventy-year old mother who had complete authority over
the kitchen, once called me and taught me how to make Tortilla in that kitchen.
Since that day, I started to call Isabel “mom”, Rosa “sister” and Rosa’s
daughter Daniella “niece.”
Thanks
to the fact that I had Rosa as my sister who was very social and generous,
probably because of her small family, I started to get invited to a number of
various familial occasions such as birthday parties, weddings, and even
community festivals. At any event, I was not only good at eating but also in
helping out in the kitchen. I diligently washed dishes (as “a neat Korean”) and
prepared very well many fruits and vegetables necessary for large parties.
Unable to communicate through my mother tongue, these kinds of duties seemed to
make me think less and feel less stressed out.
“Luna,
Are you busy? We are going to make traditional beverages for next week’s
religious festival and we need people to help us prepare, so would you please
come and work from ten o’clock this Friday morning. You can have lunch with
us.”
When
Isabel put me in the kitchen with a pile of a hundred mangos, I felt like I
became a Cinderella in a fairy tale. After peeling all of the mangos, the skin
on my right fingers became paralyzed for one month. However, I liked to be
needed, and in this way I was proud of myself becoming part of their family.
 |
| Sophia. I grew up with you there at that time. © Luna |
Of
course, becoming part of their family also brought on responsibilities and the
experience of heartbreaking moments, and even at a one time, during a
psychological crisis, I needed to cry in secret with my guilty feelings. Living
through a lot of experiences with this family, it was impossible for me to
compare this to my life in South Korea. How was it able for me, who used to
criticize paternalism, to learn about family again on this faraway soil? It’s probably
because my language skills were so rudimentary that I was accepted in their
family and also because I did not possess any things. And it would have been
possible for me because I was physically apart from my biological family.
After
cooking in a number of kitchens in Guatemala, I became good at grocery
shopping. After augustly shopping throughout an entire market place, even
bargaining like a native person did, the vitality of various fruits and
vegetables seemed to vigorously overtake my entire being.
I began
to volunteer for a native woman’s association creating Guatemalan traditional
handmade crafts. I also started a small business providing sandwiches which I made
early in the morning to a local café, participated in many different meetings,
and created strong relationships with people by inviting a number of them and
treating them to my homemade food. My identity and potentiality began to draw a
new growth curve as if standing at point zero.
People’s Passion during Festivals and Parades
For
Koreans, the importance of big ceremonial holidays such as Chu-seok (Korean
Thanksgiving Holiday) or Seol-nal (Korean New Year’s Day) is to rest; for
Guatemalan people, Semana Santa is literally a holy period of festival. In
order to see the religious parade from a good viewing point, people wait in a
spot for three or four hours by stationing a chair, on which family members can
sit taking turns to keep that particular spot.
This
parade takes place every year and it is always the exact same type and in the
exact same order. Nevertheless, the people are passionate in seeing this same
parade on a yearly basis. Nothing can truly explain this except that it is
something more than religious fervor.
 |
| The Semana Santa festival parade. © Luna |
Another
large scale street parade takes place on Independence Day. It also follows the
exact same order every year. Kindergarten kids march on the exact same day each
year and the elementary school, middle school, and high school students all
march in the exact same place each year, and all the people can see the same
students as the previous year. And the same thing will happen next year. There
is no doubt that every parade watcher is able to memorize the entire schedule
of the parade. All people, from children to the middle-aged and the elderly,
feel honored for participating in their parade, and talk about the heroic
moments of the parades even many decades later.
After a
few years of living in Xela, I felt that the Guatemalan people’s passion for
their festivals and parades was like a tree devotedly repeating the process in
which buds appear, produce leaves, blossom into flowers, and bear fruits in due
time every year.
During
another Guatemalan people’s holiday, “The Day of the Dead,” people exchange
bread and chocolate as presents, make a food called “Fiambre” by paying with
their own money and happily so, and enjoy it together. People also place
bouquets of colorful flowers on every grave, and children have fun flying kites.
On Christmas, they make “Paches,” which is made of rice powder, and present
this to one another as a gift. If a person gets many “Paches,” he or she is
very happy because they can share them with their neighbors—as I did.
People
are not reluctant in their repetition of labor and devotion, and in no way feel
bored about these yearly activities which never have anything new. Rather, they
seem to be even happier in repeating the same thing again. This code of peaceful happiness has rippled through my heart that comes from
the nation called South Korea, living and working everyday at the fastest speed
in the world, being competitive in always creating a new item.
*Original Article:
No comments:
Post a Comment