"Korea is generally known as a patriarchal culture grounded in Confucian values of filial piety and chastity," Reddy said, adding, "Nevertheless, Cheju-do has a long and legendary history of being a matriarchal society, so it’s a good place to start our tour. The haenyeo, the sea-women, are often the heads of families, because they are the family bread winners. Scuba gear is outlawed here for fear of over harvesting the abalone and conch. Shall we trek over to the cove and watch the sea women at work?" Reddy asked.
On our way to watch the divers, Reddy told us the Korean story of mermaids and sea women which was often told on Cheju-do. "Men used to dive; yet, in the nineteenth century, the job became unprofitable because they, unlike women, had to pay taxes, and besides, the women tolerated the deep cold water better. Women took over these low paying jobs and became the family breadwinners. Gender roles were reversed; men took care of the children, did the grocery shopping, and fed the livestock. Women ruled their households and their community. This role reversal contrasts with Korea's Confucian culture in which women had traditionally been treated as inferior, adhering to strict values of chastity and obedience to their husbands. There was only one captain in a house and that was clearly the father.
"The sea women's power was greatest in villages on islands such as Cheju-do that relied on sea products more than farming. If their husbands cheated on them, they could tell them to get out of the house. This prevailed until tourism became popular in recent years.
"On Cheju, market forces reigned over the Confucian preference for boys. If a family had a boy, they did not celebrate; if it was a girl, they celebrated, because they knew that the girl would dive and bring money to the family. At age eight or nine, girls first went to sea, picking up seaweed along the shore, just as we are doing today as we stroll these beaches. Women's status was high because they made more money than the men. The haenyeo paid for education and just about everything the family needed.
"I’ve heard that the haenyeo can dive to depths of nearly fifteen meters,” I said.
Reddy replied, "That’s true, and they can stay submerged for as long as two minutes."
"There goes one off the cliff," I said. "Let's time her and see how long she holds her breath." With a flat wooden tool that looks like a spatula attached to one wrist, the sea woman, dressed in a black wetsuit, dove from the nearby cliff and disappeared, presumably to try to dislodge abalone from under rocks at the bottom of the sea.
"One minute and fifty seconds," I said, as the diver broke the surface for air and then put her catch in a net supported by white and orange buoys. Later, a scow took her basket and others to shore.
"How dangerous is abalone diving?" Rhyly asked.
Reddy answered, "Sometimes the abalone clamp down on the tool and trap one of the sea women underwater. Locals say that at least one sea woman dies every year. It's a dangerous occupation. Care to try?"
"I forgot my wetsuit," Rhyly said. "Is it permissible to dive au naturale?"
“Well," Reddy answered, "for centuries the sea women dove bare breasted into the cold waters. That was likely a contributing factor for the seventeenth century Dutch calling them mermaids. However, administrators from Seoul once tried to bar the women from diving because they exposed bare skin while diving. The women divers bribed them with some abalone and the administrators looked the other way. In modern times, the number of sea women is declining, and tourism is giving Cheju men more jobs. It’s unclear what will happen to the divers' daughters' status in their communities and home. Many of these women sense that the end is near."
One diver told us she could no longer go as deep as when she was young, and that soon there will be no young divers.
"How old are you?" I asked her, adding, "You look so strong and fit."
"I am fifty-nine years old and most of the divers here at this bay are nearly that age," she replied with a big grin. I think she was surprised that we westerners all spoke Korean.
"Kamsamneda!" I said as she left for her days work in the sea.
Next, Reddy took us to visit a muyeo, a female shaman, who told us the tale of the "Chronicles of Cheonjiwang," a Cheju creation myth. I knew from my studies that two types of muyeos have lived in these parts for centuries. One came from the north and one from the south. A Cheju creation myth was traditionally retold by muyeos on a volcanic island off the south shores of the peninsula.
Reddy said, "Anyung hashim nika, we would be pleased to sit and watch and listen with you."
She was a small weathered woman of undeterminable years, sitting on the stoop of a thatched roof hut on the seashore, smoking a long stemmed pipe and overlooking the morning sunrise as it reflected off the blue-green sea and brought light to another day. She rose to greet us in her red and green garments and began her music and dance. She swayed and fanned herself as she told the tale.
"I am called Summer's Day," she greeted us. "Only the mudang from the south tell of this legend. I learned it from my teacher who was also from an island off the southernmost coast of the peninsula, she from her teacher, and so on back many generations.
"This legend of the great creation contains a story about the twin sons of the King of the Heavens and the Earth (Cheonjiwang). The myth starts with the creation of the world, when the sky and the earth were one. Cheonjiwang desired a strikingly beautiful young lady. He asked her and her parents if he could have sexual intercourse with her, and this was accepted. That night, the young lady became 'Wise Wife,' as she had experienced love and was no longer a virgin.
“Cheonjiwang stayed with his new wife for a few days and then flew away on his dragon-led chariot. As he departed, he gave his wife two gourd seeds and advised her to name their twin sons 'Large Star' and 'Small Star.' One day, when the twins matured, they asked their mother who their father was, and she told them that their father was Cheonjiwang, the supreme god."
I did not want to interrupt the muyeo, but I was thinking that I had wrestled with the question of who is my father for the past fifteen years. I glanced at Reddy who whispered, "A child abandoned by their parents is a common theme in Korean mythology."
Summer's Day continued. "The twins planted the two gourd seeds. Vines grew rapidly and soon clung to the left armrest of the King's throne. The twins climbed up the vines until they reached the Palace of the Heavens where Cheonjiwang lived."
'Sounds like Jack and the beanstalk,' I thought, again glancing at Reddy and Rhyly. I could tell by their smiles they were on the same wave length. Rhyly made a climbing gesture with her fingers.
"Cheonjiwang took a quick look at the twins and admitted that they were his sons. Then he devised a contest to see which of them would rule the nether world and which the mortal world."
As Summer's Day concluded telling the mythological tale, I was mindful that it had been retold to us this day in the same fashion as it had been retold for centuries, passed on by these wonderful and powerful female shamans. I started to offer payment for her marvelous story telling; however, Reddy caught my hand and whispered, "No, she will feel insulted. I will return later with a gift."
As we trekked back to Reddy's house, he added, "The myth continues as the stars and moon are formed in the heavens and as ghosts and humans learn to converse. Meanwhile, the twins’ mother is given the title of Bajiwang, the earth goddess. Thus, the four realms of the heavens, the mortal world, the nether world, and the earth each came to have a ruler."
"Earth goddess, mother earth. I like this legend," Rhyly said. I nodded in agreement.
As we trekked down the beach to observe the haenyeo, I said, "I learned much at the Parks’ Home for Girls where tutors came regularly to teach us language, social skills, music and etiquette, skills we would need to make our husbands happy. I also enjoyed the history lessons, nearly as much as the stick fighting. One Korean creation myth stuck with me, where the Wise Wife remains chaste until marriage. The Park's never risked losing the virginity of one of their girls. The guards were carefully selected and the girls suspected t
hat some were eunuchs," I said.
"One of the things I find most interesting in these legends is the roles of women as goddesses, as wives, daughters, and slaves," Rhyly said as Reddy finished his addition to Summers Day’s telling of the Cheju creation myth.
As we trekked back along the coast line road and up the mountain trail towards Reddy’s house, I was seeing the role of women in these parts and globally differently than ever before. The pearl divers not only served as colorful memories of Korean history and the role of women; they also triggered the revenge motives I felt at the loss of my mother. The green glass ball added to this sense of revenge. I was deprived of ever knowing my mother except through Reddy's eyes and stories.
Matte called the Zubaida case a righteous one. But, how does revenge get reconciled with Reddy's Rule #2 when the target is likely to be one of the Park brothers.
When Reddy spoke of my first assignment, he intimated that the target called for a shooter and a spotter/computer operator. I thought, Sincere and Junior makes two targets, a twofer. This is the very kind of case Reddy avoids. No partners, Reddy's Rule Number 3. But, now here I am, a trusted family member, trained and in some ways as good a shot as he is and he is one of the very best at his trade according to the CIA report on him. Besides, I have seen him shoot many times; he never misses. However, admittedly, I have not seen him on an assignment.
The next day, we’re back on another grassy knoll on the west side of the volcano on Udo Island, arriving as the fog lifted. We were careful not to practice shooting from the exact same area a second day in a row. "Don't want the local fishermen to get too annoyed," Reddy reminded me, pointing to two fishermen who were departing the area after repairing their buoys and nets.
I did a 360 degree check of the site and carefully looked down at the emerald green waters just offshore slamming into the rocky cove below, and then up into the clear blue cloudless sky, the sixth direction. "Looking up!" I said. We were wearing green camouflage fatigues and covering ourselves with a camouflage tarp to make it difficult for those pesky CIA spy satellites to spot us.
"That’s good. The rumblings of war by the North Koreans are bringing a lot of spying activities to this area, so we need to be extra careful of the sixth direction if we’re to remain invisible while completing our assignments," Reddy replied. "I did my six directions bit yesterday and checked the satellite images last night. There was nothing to be seen of our practice session. Our camouflage is excellent."
I realized that Reddy had done what was needed a day before I had. I still had much to learn.
Reddy changed the subject, saying, "I have a surprise for you. Michaela II. She’s the most perfect sniper weapon in the world, one of a kind made especially for you. Care to try her out?"
I watched as he placed a metallic object on a flat rock. It was half the size of a wasp with two wings that opened when the guidance system kicked in. It also had two small antennae. Reddy carefully loaded the wasp projectile into the barrel of the customized rifle and pointed it in the direction of the green glass buoys in the eastern corner of the cove. Using the laptop, he synchronized the latitude and longitude of the wasp and that of his target buoy which he had previously determined, then entered the windage and other data into the laptop. The laptop screen read TARGET ENGAGED. It flashed twice and then I saw the small splash on the screen and the message TARGET DESTROYED.
"Your turn," Reddy said, pointing to the remaining small wasp on the flat rock. "Be sure not to compress the wings nor the antennae. Cup it in your open palm and slide it into the barrel butt end first, gently tilt the barrel until you hear a soft click. There is a tiny magnet in the wasp's ass that engages with the firing mechanism."
I followed Reddy's laptop voice commands precisely. It was totally different from the SR-25 where I took two deep breaths, exhaled slowly and softly squeezed the trigger. "Soft isn't good enough. It has to be oh so gentle,” Reddy said.
We reviewed what I did in slow motion and I soon learned how this weapon worked. Reddy had developed a tiny battery that propelled the wasp drone. It had a range of one to two kilometers depending on headwinds and humidity. The CIA, and who knows which other governments and/or organizations, wanted this miniature battery for several military and spy adaptations.
"Push the enter button when the screen says TARGET ENGAGED."
We watched on the laptop screen as the wasp projectile left the barrel and as it progressed toward the target. Nearing the target area, its wings unfolded so it could make flight path adjustments which were invisible in real time. Reddy showed me how he had made these corrections with the small wireless direction controller, like the ones used for computer combat games. He purposely missed the target for educational reasons.
My second round ripped through the green glass buoy puncturing it front and back at exit without shattering it; it soon filled with water and sank.
"I like the way you handled Michaela II. Would you prefer her or the SR-25 for your first assignment?" Reddy asked.
"No offense, but I feel more confident with the SR-25," I replied, adding, "assuming the range to the target is as we have practiced and with the laptop of course so I won't need a spotter/partner."
"That practice was with special no mess rounds." He smiled, an almost wicked grin crossing his face. He reminded me of a mad scientist unleashing his creation on an unsuspecting world. "We can load the wasp with an explosive if needed."
That steely-eyed look was the same look that has kept me at a distance from my father. I secretly thought he enjoys the kill. However, it might be that he enjoyed the challenge of a very difficult task and trade at which he was highly skilled. I also enjoyed such challenges. Either way, that look had always disturbed me.
Reddy spoke softly, "Good choice. Always choose the weapon you know best. And, you have correctly assumed that I can configure the SR-25 to respond to laptop commands. No spotter necessary. I told you at the lake that you're ready for your first assignment - your target is Dr. Evel Park Junior."
Junior! I tried not to react to this announcement. To act as cool as Reddy always was. I definitely had motivation enough to take Junior on as my first Burton’s Family Business assignment. Junior clearly met Reddy's Rule # 1. However, revenge violated Reddy's Rule Number 2. I had to come to grips with my sense of retribution.
The next day we were scheduled to depart for Mokpo to start our Silla dynasty tour. Rhyly got up early so she could interview a few of the haenyeo divers, so we told her to catch a taxi and meet us at the ferry in Jeju City in two hours. We gathered Rhyly's and our bags from Reddy's place and caught a taxi of our own. Then we headed for the ferry to Mokpo. Meanwhile, Hamish had flown down from Seoul and would meet us at the Mokpo ferry landing.
"Hamish is going to be our guide and driver for a tour of Gyeongju," Reddy said as Rhyly joined us. "He says it is best not to drive in Korea. Let a local do the driving or take a taxi or a bus."
"I have never been on the Gyeongbu Expressway which runs from Pusan to Seoul. It'll be a blast and we can really see the countryside. Hamish is flying into Gwangju airport and picking up a rental car in Mokpo. On our driving tour to Gyeongju we will see several of the wonders of ancient Silla. Over a thousand years of Silla heritage, ancient tombs at Namsan Mountain, archaeological ruins, the Silla Bell, and Queen Seondeok's star gazing tower. Fantastic stuff!"
Five hours later, Hamish greeted us with his usual jolly smile. "An young ha seyo? You must be Dr. Rhyly Raincrow. Delighted to meet you. And you are Dr. Shannon Lee Burton." He said each name with a slight hesitation, adding, "I have waited many years for my goddaughter to return."
I broke my rule and allowed him to give me a bear hug that nearly crushed me.
"Our chariot awaits us in the parking area," Hamish added as he took Reddy's hand and gave him a hug. As we piled into the Hyundai SUV, Hamish immediately began his role as guide and historian.
"As with the haenyeo, we see the relevance of women in times past and in ancient Ko
rean mythology," Hamish said as we drove from Mokpo to Busan. "I believe that has become the theme of our tour."
"We visited the haenyeo yesterday and Reddy told us about their matriarchal culture," Rhyly said.
Hamish smiled and said, "Ask Reddy who taught him." Reddy pointed at Hamish.
"During our Silla tour, the artifacts and sites we’ll focus on have a history of association with women's contributions to Korea's development," Hamish said. “That is why I have asked Sister Cerice to join us. These are but a few of the many women's contributions. Many others have been systematically destroyed or lost over the centuries of wars and change and she is an expert on these injustices to women.
"The history of women in Korea includes numerous despotic eras of enslavement and forced prostitution as well as artists and craftswomen being enslaved and sent to Japan to bolster a sagging culture. The Manchu, the Mongols, and internal clans and forces have enslaved Korean women and expatriated them to other countries as wives and to bolster populations. In the twentieth century the Japanese enslaved thousands of Korean women, somewhere between seventy and 200,000,as 'comfort women' for their military occupation forces. However, much about their history has been lost over time and I fear it is also been systematically eradicated in an effort to preserve male-dominance for Korea. Enough introduction. Fasten your seat belts and enjoy the tour."
As we drove from Mokpo to Gyeongju, the ancient capital of Silla, Rhyly asked Hamish, "How did you accrue this vast knowledge of the contributions of women to Korean development?"
"I was raised by the sisters of Saint Catherine at a century old convent on Seoul's Namsan Mountain. Sister Cerice is a research faculty member at Ewha Women's University. She does not teach classes as she has Tourette's syndrome and prefers to stay in the convent and avoid strangers. She is nearly eighty and has been my history teacher for many years. She shared her English translations of the Sagi and other records of the Silla with me and a few other orphans at the convent. It is this knowledge that I am sharing with you now."
Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery Page 13
