By Andrei Lankov for 3WM Stalinist regimes love their capitals. A capital is usually a very special place. It is extolled by court poets in their lengthy odes. Its cityscapes (well, what is supposed to be their cityscape in the ideal world, imagined in the works of propaganda arts) are depicted by the nation’s best [...]
By Iwazaru
According to developing reports, the man, Wu Yuanchun, 42, an ethnic Korean from China, was on his way home from a store when the 28-year-old woman bumped into him. He responded by threatening her life and forcing her back to his home where he intended to rape her. Reports say that when he entered the bathroom, the woman locked the door of the room she was in and called the police number, 112. Initially, according to the Gyeonggi Provincial Police Agency–and this article in the JoongAng Daily–the call only lasted a minute and 50 seconds during which the woman provided information about her location and, reportedly, allowed for GPS tracking. Yet the police did not locate the scene until 13 hours later at which time they found Wu cutting the woman’s body into pieces. One report cites the mortician:
“A forensic expert who conducted an autopsy on the woman described the condition of her body as ‘too horrific for words.’ The National Forensic Service received 14 plastic bags filled with altogether 280 body parts. ‘He butchered her,’ the official added.”
By Iwazaru
A few weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon, an email came in from an acquaintance who comes into contact with most Korean-related content on the Web and then disseminates it via his blog. He’d just gotten, he wrote, “the oddest call” from a man convinced that he was about to be arrested for uncovering a “human traffiking/illegal teacher scam.” Perhaps I’d be interested in contacting the individual, was the suggestion with contact details. This began what has been a bizarre and frustrating process of trying to get to the bottom of the story.
After doing some cursory research on the individual, I called him. What followed was a manic 66-minute monologue as he explained his allegations against an English Village on Jeju Island that had left him out of several thousand dollars in pay in a scheme that stretched back at least six years and included some 60 other bereft teachers whose names are on a list at the Korean Labor Ministry. Human trafficking, fraud, foreign child labor, neglect and abuse were among the allegations mentioned during the call with numerous references to specific incidents that evidence in his possession allegedly supports.
By Mizaru
To take the stairs and walk down into the Nori bar was always a rush. When the scene was peaking, abandon all your form, turn on the bat radar and shuttle your way to any unoccupied place of wood and start to order a drink. The real wood bar and tables, the high ceilings with the sound and light rigging of a planetarium, the warm anti-perfume pro vinyl smells, the high fidelity of 4/4 beat pulsing music: this wasn’t a rock ‘n’ roll bar this was an incubator. You would swear the place had lungs: it was able to breathe. Yet, in fact, the weekends at Nori constituted a sporting event: The Bacchanal in the Basement. Repressed locals and foreigner scamps together coming down closer to sea level, to the one place in planet Korea where anything goes.
By John M. Rodgers
When 28-year-old Korean-American Robert Park crossed the frozen Tumen River that divides China and North Korea on Christmas Day 2009 somewhere near the northeastern North Korean city of Hoeryong, he carried a Bible and a few letters demanding that then-leader Kim Jong-il close all prison camps, release all prisoners and step down.
Just days earlier, Park told Reuters in an interview he requested be run after he’d entered the North, “My demand is that I do not want to be released. I don’t want President Obama to come and pay to get me out. But I want the North Korean people to be free. Until the concentration camps are liberated, I do not want to come out. If I have to die with them, I will…. And if he (Kim Jong-il) kills me, in a sense, I realize this is better. Then the governments of the world will become more prone to say something, and more embarrassed and more forced to make a statement.” Die he did not—he was released 43 days later on February 6—but what happened to him may have been a worse evil than death.
By Mizaru
In the basement of the apartment building I lived in is the Police Bar. My room was above it out of earshot; a 5th floor walk up to a small room of cubist angles and a skylight. TV and cable were provided and a shared public bathroom cleaned for real every morning by a Chinese woman from Szechwan who for whatever reason didn’t mind fishing used condoms out of the toilet. At three-hundred bucks a month and an around the clock bowl of rice available how could it be better?
The first few nights and for some months to come Sinchon had a helter-skelter pace to run in and the neon dreamscape of a modern Kubla Kahn to be seen in.
I’m back in again and the only thing that seems new to the neighborhood now is a quirky comic bookstore off the main road that has transfigured itself into a “Purple hair redux” boutique. And contrary to a rumor, the Police Bar has not closed. The Japanese students that I used to cohabit the building with still drop down to it at around 12 a.m. and then the Police Bar has to stay open till the sun comes up. This is still part of that Sinchon de-rigor—as long as there are customers keep the place open, almost every place open, and let them revel on the streets in the smells of the crackling pork and bubbles of far-reaching perfume.
By Andrei Lankov
The largest factory in the far northeastern city of Hoeryong is Taesong tobacco plant. It is one of the few factories which has continued its operations throughout the disruption and chaos of the last 15 years. It is also quite a popular place to get a job, the locals work hard to secure a job at the factory.
Indeed, Taesong factory gives its employees a number of impressive perks, since it produces tobacco for the military’s consumption, it is officially considered to be a military enterprise. Therefore all its employees are issued food rations – a rare privilege in North Korea nowadays. Salaries are also quite large (but still below the survival level), but the major attraction of the factory is something else: it’s a place where it is easy to steal things which are in high demand on the market.
Theft has always been a problem in state socialist economies. They are not known for their shortages for nothing, thus there is always the temptation for workers to steal produce or equipment. At the same time, management is not too eager to try to prevent theft. After all, property which is stolen belongs to the state, that is, to nobody. So, there are many cases when management is willing to turn a blind eye to theft.
By Rahn Kim
Being different had never been a foreign concept, even back when I was still “homegrown.” Teased for my height at my piano school by a short, insecure boy, my education of othering began at age four, the moment I sent a satisfactory kick into his unsuspecting nuts. This was my protest, my hidden potential, and my victory: the pure unadulterated resilience of a child. Too young to care about the consequences, I ignored the commotion that ensued. I ignored the little boy’s enraged mother and I ignored my own mother’s calm and collected, kind advice:
“Be careful baby. If you destroy his nuts, you’ll make him sterile.”
Seven years old, much taller and a little chubbier, the world remained as cruel as ever, and the burden on my shoulders had become a little heavier. A “big-boned” first grader daring enough to take on the older boys, I went head-to-head with the neighborhood third graders.
By Joe Lee
I remember going to the window every day and staring out at the street. It’s one of the worst experiences of my life, knowing that I was locked up and couldn’t leave if I wanted to. I wanted to leave very badly. That’s one of the things that keeps me taking my medication on a daily basis to this day—I never want to be in that situation again. And I had almost no one to talk to because I can speak only rudimentary Korean. It was the worst kind of isolation I could imagine.
Life in a Korean insane asylum is not fun. The more sane I got, the scarier things became.
Eventually, my behavior grew so outlandish in public that I got picked up by the Korean equivalent of the guys with butterfly nets. I think the thing that got me picked up was that I was on my knees at some random place in Seoul yelling, “This is real! This is real!” at the top of my lungs. I think that’s what happened. All I know is the next thing I knew I was in the back of a Seoul hospital van.
Only later did I learn that somehow the American Embassy got involved and someone from there met me at the emergency room. While I waited to be admitted, I proceeded to follow a “crack in time” that had developed in the universe. The embassy official was obviously concerned but, as I found out later, they don’t have the immediate ability to escort someone who’s mentally unstable out of the hospital, back to the embassy where travel itinerary back to the U.S. will be scheduled. It is beyond their control. They could only notify my family and try to ensure that I wouldn’t be thrown into some rusty basement.
By Flora Lee
Just like the American SAT, the British A-level or the French Baccalaureate, there is also a final, nationwide examination in Korea: the KSAT, or “Sooneung” as it is most commonly referred to. The daylong exam consists of exams in Korean, mathematics, English plus one to four subjects of choice in social sciences, natural sciences, or vocational studies. Officially, it is aimed at calculating students’ academic abilities and their aptitude for college education. But in the “real” world, students and parents tend to understand the Sooneung as the ultimate once-in-a-year multiple-choice test that can totally decide your future life. To foreigners it might seem a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m sure any gosam (the graduating class of high school) in Korea would acknowledge the enormous pressure of test, including the fact that just a simple stomachache could easily ruin the day that you prepared tediously and painfully for most of your youth.
By Iwazaru
Lying there in the dark didn’t do a thing to help me go to sleep. I started feeling cold and scared for some reason like you might walking alone down a dark, barren road. Then, from a distance, I heard a girl crying, a muffled sort of sobbing. I was chilled to the bone. I didn’t want to move and my eyes were wide open. The crying seemed to continue for about three to five minutes, though I had no idea of time. Too scared to move or say anything, I just listened to the crying—I was in that kind of frozen state that you have in dreams when you can’t move (but I wasn’t asleep). Suddenly, the crying ended with a shrieking scream.
Now the only way I could explain the scream is kind of strange–it was loud enough for me to hear it but it seemed to fade quickly away rather than carry. Then came the truly chilling part. But first let me explain the setup of my room a little bit. The small TV used to sit on a stand at the end of my bed on top of a VCR. There was some space in between for walking so I could get to my clothes rack. As I laid there frozen by fear, I stared straight forward, wide-eyed. I couldn’t blink.
By Kyla Polanski
Toward the end of the event we were directed through hundreds of bowing and cheering people that were lined up like they had been in the afternoon, but were now at least three rows thick. Before we were free, rows of what looked like airline stewardess’ all chanted, smiled, and bowed in sync on either side of us. Their chant was in Korean and was continuous. I’m sure the words were simply saying goodbye but it was a haunting finish. Volunteers and people shouted and waved at us randomly around the sidewalk, while we walked to our bikes. Even the people selling pineapple slices on a stick were in our faces and waving their fruit aggressively.
On the way home, my ears were buzzing and I felt like I could use a cold beer and enjoy some MUCH needed silence. My thoughts and feelings were all over the place. I recall thinking that Mannam was probably a religious cult. And then thinking, Wow, that would have been a disappointing laser show in the 70’s! I felt physically itchy and we all had the need to research whatever that was. My friends recalled that there were no signs of sponsorship throughout the event. We wondered when and if Mannam would email us. Of course they’re going to email us! Gah! I couldn’t stop thinking about the toll of appearing happy and smiling for hours on end, or how the crowd erupted and lost all control when Lee Man Hee walked on stage.
By Kyla Polanski
The first thing we came upon was an area where people were imitating the torture of Japanese soldiers. The festival’s guests were encouraged to lie face down on a wooden cross, with their feet held down while playfully and slowly getting smacked on the butt with a long paddle. Sometimes the costumey soldiers would do the spanking, but you could spank your friend if you wanted to. Everyone was standing around laughing and smiling.
Weird! That’s a little insensitive to the people that had suffered during the war.
But just before I could process those thoughts, any thought, or even exchange opinions with my friends, we were approached by another one of the volunteers. He was persuasive and happy and overly ‘helpful’ so we kinda just gave in and let them lead us to, what sounded like–the foreigner booth.
Toon by Lee Scott and words by Iwazaru
3WM mourns the loss of a visionary and an innovator who helped shape the editors’ lives since the days of the Macintosh. We believe The Onion said it best with its headline, “Last American Who Knew What The Fuck He Was Doing Dies.” We leave readers with Steve Jobs’ words and a list of worthy links.
“When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: ‘If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.’ It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”
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