Holidays and Games
To a casual visitor, the Korean children seem to lack the good times that other children enjoy. They have very few toys, and yet they do play with gusto and…
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Holidays and Games” from When I Was a Boy in Korea by Ilhan New, 1928.
To a casual visitor, the Korean children seem to lack the good times that other children enjoy. They have very few toys, and yet they do play with gusto and enjoy themselves very thoroughly with what simple things they have. They generally play, in little groups, all sorts of outdoor games that are as old as the hills and yet ever interesting to the little fellows. I really believe that the game of hide-and-seek was originally an Oriental game, though I would not trespass on any claims that the Chinese boys might have on anything that is old and universal.
Groups of boys are found playing cash-throwing. This is much like a game of marbles, except that the old-time brass cash-pieces are used. Two parallel lines are drawn about ten feet apart. With the toes behind one line, each boy throws his cash-piece to the other line and the one that is the closest has the first shot; then the next closest, etc. The winner of the first shot takes all the cash-pieces and, standing with toes on one line, throws them all in a bunch over the other line. Those pieces falling short of the line do not count. After the cash-pieces are thrown over the line, he takes a small disc of iron or, more often, a neat disc of stone and pitches it with the aim of hitting as many of the cash-pieces as possible, for he gets all that he hits. Then the second shooter takes the remaining cash-pieces and throws them over the line, trying to hit as many as possible and keeping out for himself all that he has managed to hit. So the game progresses until all the cash-pieces have been hit and taken out of the game; then everything starts over again.
Girls are not allowed to play with boys, but they, too, have their games amongst themselves. It is very common to see as many as half of a group of girls with babies tied to their backs while playing hop-scotch as agilely as though there were no extra load.
And then come the national holidays. What an infinite wealth of joys is compressed into these glorious days, which each child knows as soon as he can be conscious of anything! Does not a holiday mean an entirely new equipment of clothes from head to foot? And this does not mean just another suit, but it includes outfits of different materials for each holiday and season. Even the very poorest family must plan for these few occasions, and no Korean child is to be disappointed, if effort and sacrifice can prevent; for these occurrences have come to mean as much to young Koreans as Christmas to the children of the Occident.
For each of these holidays there are particular foods which are not only proper, but which seem to meet with the universal approval of Korean people. On May thirtieth (Old Calendar), for instance, one eats “jegimme” to his utmost capacity, not even Mother admonishing one about the quantity one eats on that day. This “jegimme” is a flat griddle-cake made of flour milled in a stone mortar in each home from small green peas. A batter is made; a bit of meat is minced with vegetables and mixed with the batter; then the luscious cakes are baked in a shallow pan over red-hot charcoals. The smell of these baking cakes makes one think of the brisk October days when chestnuts are popping merrily over the same kind of fire.
On this May holiday great swings are put up in each village, and all the inhabitants turn out and swing in pairs, generally two boys or two girls, for to the pair that swings highest a prize is generally given. This is the day also for wrestling matches. Sometimes the young huskies from a whole district gather together to wrestle. The rule is that the person who downs all comers takes the prize.
These wrestling matches are famous and they are held with elaborate ceremonies, under generally clear blue skies on some hillside. There the people seat themselves in a natural amphitheatre and the combatants line themselves around the paced-off level spot. Often the Governor or the local elder is present, and always there is a prize of a calf or a large-sized bull for the winner. One can see how important the games are when one knows that the prize of a bull is very valuable, as bulls do almost all the work about the farm in Korea.
Every one is decked out in his most colorful garments. The girls, especially, take the day for freedom as, on this occasion, they may parade about the village in groups without drawing anything but admiration for their clothes and the fancy way their hair is combed.
Then comes the fifteenth of August (Old Calendar). The light, cool, almost transparent clothes are ready to give way to others of warmer material. But the clothes are not the center of interest on this day. The real interest is the pilgrimage to the graves of one’s ancestors.
When one says Decoration Day, it immediately brings to mind hundreds of American flags and gay flowers covering the graves of valiant soldiers. Not so in Korea. There are no cemeteries, as such, here. It has been said that the Korean lives his ideal life after death. This is seemingly true, for upon death, regardless of whether a man’s heirs can afford it, the best is given. The coffin itself is a simple box of the barest pine; the great expense lies in the services and what the deceased ordered done by a geomancer.
This geomancer is supposedly gifted with supernatural powers. Among these is the happy ability to select a site for the burial of the deceased which will insure the remains such peaceful rest that the living relatives may be assured of perpetual good fortune. Unfortunately for the living, the seer usually selects a site up on a mountain side, close by a sparkling stream, and overlooking a particularly tranquil and fertile valley. Even should the desired spot be a field under cultivation, happily irrigated by the stream, the geomancer offers to purchase it of the owner.
Not infrequently the field is the owner’s sole means of livelihood and the offer is refused. In this case a midnight burial takes place; the owner awakens the next morning to find a new mound in the center of his field, but, on account of tradition and his own personal reverence for the departed, he has no choice save to leave it unmolested. If he is again approached with money, he accepts, but under no circumstance can he demand anything, having once rejected an offer.
You noticed I said “mound.” The grave is dug, but is not only filled to the level of the ground but covered with a mound of earth from five to hundreds of feet in height. The height depends upon the wealth of the deceased. The entire mound and ground for some feet about are sodded. Before the grave is placed a rectangular granite tablet, on either side of which stone images are stationed to guard the sacred spot.
I remember very vividly a midnight funeral and burial on one of our own fields. My father and I were returning from a call on a sick uncle. As we swung over the top of the low mountain the weird chant of the funeral chorus reached my ears. In the inky darkness ten pairs of lanterns could soon be counted coming over the opposite hill. These lantern-bearers are professional mourners who keep up a weird chant resembling a wail throughout the journey to the final resting-place. We were soon upon the procession and I could see the usual money-dispenser throwing to the right and left small round bits of paper pierced through the center—fashioned after the money of generations ago.
The purpose of broadcasting this money was to divert the attention of any evil spirit intent upon the remains. In place of the large ten-foot square platform carried by from ten to fifty men, there was only a small palanquin borne by four men. This indicated at once that this was no recent death, but a re-burial of some remains. These reburials are not uncommon. A few misfortunes in a family will readily convince the living members that these are messages from the dead who cannot rest in their present graves. Following the palanquin was a man who struck a bell intermittently, after which he sang a verse of the dirge, the chorus of which was repeated by the mourners ahead.
The son of the deceased was next in line. The accustomed mitral-shaped cap was on his head. This was made of the coarsest hemp cloth, banded with hempen rope. His long outer coat was also of the same material, the shoes on his feet of the cheapest rice-straw. I knew the next day would find a huge straw helmet on his head. The wealthiest of men wear this garb when in mourning, for it indicates deepest humility to the gods against whom he must have sinned, else death would not have visited his family.
Ordinarily the friends of the deceased follow the chief mourners in jinrickshas or on donkeys. These friends as well as the mourners are always males, the women of the family being expected to receive condolences at home, where they, too, are garbed in the same rough material.
When we were within a few feet of the procession, our unspoken fears were realized, for the lantern-bearers turned abruptly into our fields and proceeded to the most fertile ridge in that section. My father had often said that the site was ideal for a final resting-place. We stood filled with a curious emotion compounded of reverence and indignation, but there was nothing to be done. I learned the next day that an offer had been made two days previously, but that it had been rejected. It seemed that the dead man’s son had recently suffered from three cases of illness in his family and, upon consulting a geomancer, had discovered that the remains of his father were not resting, menaced as they were by annual floods. Our particular site had been designated by the sage, and only when re-burial occurred would the son’s family regain health.
When so much importance is attached to the spirit of the deceased, one can readily imagine the importance of the yearly pilgrimage.
On the stone tablet erected before burial mounds, the annual offerings of food and fruit are laid. The descendants present kneel before the tablet, invoking blessings of the gods upon the spirit of the departed and asking the good-will and blessings of the departed upon the living members of the family.
When the family is wealthy and hundreds of miles must be covered to reach the burial site, the trip becomes a holiday and a filial duty in one. Many servants must accompany the master, to carry the food upon their backs as well as to do such chores as are necessary on a long journey. The servants walk; the luxury of donkeys or horses, which are never larger than Shetland ponies, is permitted only to the master and his relatives.
The journey is so planned that each night shall be spent in one of the many Buddhist temples tucked away in the mountains the country over. These temples are established by priests who live in them the year round, with the exception of a certain month allotted each priest. During this month he must ascend into the world of the lowly and beg for food, money, and such things as are necessary for the simple life led in the temples. Their chief food, like the rest of their people, is rice. They eat no meat whatever; their vegetables include many mountain shrubs and herbs simply prepared.
A Buddhist temple is a colorful thing. The low curving eaves are made of small panelings whose ends have been carefully faceted and painted a bright red and blue. At each corner of the temple hangs a small brass bell which tinkles with every breeze. There are always three or four separate buildings which contain the altars for worship. Each of these buildings consists of a single room. On the walls are historic Buddhist scenes, painted in the brightest of primary colors. Across one end of the room is the simple altar made up of three large gilded idols placed on a pedestal which has been made wide enough for the incense urns and candlesticks necessary for each. On certain days there are dishes of food accompanying the usual incense. The dormitory and studies are embodied in another building. Simplicity is the key-note of their living, and as one enters the rooms there is nothing to be seen but student candidates studying with an older priest.
Pilgrims always stop at sundown, arriving at temples in time for evening worship. Assigned priests preside at each altar. Incense is first renewed and candles are lit. The priest then takes his place directly before the largest idol and begins his chant. He then kneels and touches his head to the floor several times, arises, and after a few minutes finishes the chant.
Each temple compound has a huge brass bell which is tongueless, like all Korean bells. This bell is struck with a huge club at each service and, because of the quality of the brass of which it has been cast, the resonance throbs in the air throughout the chant. Every member on the compound worships at this time, stopping just where he is and bowing deeply in the direction of the nearest altar. Supper is served immediately after, and any travelers present are served the same simple meal that the priests enjoy. Their beds for the night are made on the floor and as each newcomer carries his own bedding, there is always room for another.
After many stops and much jogging over steep mountain passes, the destination is reached on the fifteenth of the month. Some journeys require as many as ten days but the plans must always be laid so carefully that, despite all obstacles, the grave shall be worshipped on the fifteenth. The master and relatives clamber from the ponies wearily and seek the near-by pines for shade, while the servants clear a space for the feast. The food is carefully unloaded and soon small charcoal fires are glowing cheerfully. Such foods as need further preparation are put on to cook. When all is done, the tablet is spread, the worship is reverently carried out, and the party retires to the shade where the feast has been spread.
The particular delicacy of the day is one similar to a steamed pudding which has, as its main ingredient, a flour made from a certain glutinous rice. The flour is placed in a muslin bag, then immersed in boiling water and gently kneaded. When ready, the bag is removed and placed upon a huge slab of granite where it is beaten for hours with large wooden mallets. The dough is now a homogeneous mass of a thick, tenacious consistency. This is then cut into pieces three inches square and one-half inch thick. A delicious filling of dates, nuts, a bit of meat, and many spices is spread liberally over a piece of the dough and covered with another. These “shang pyen” are then ready for the steamer, where they remain until the dough becomes tender and the filling ready to drip from very goodness. On these pilgrimages the filling and dough are carried separately and steamed only at the journey’s end, over one of the many charcoal burners.
On another fire the rice boils vigorously. With the rice done, one awaits a thin bamboo stick on which are strung three or four very thin slices of beef spread with salt, pepper, and a little sesame oil. These are broiled fresh over the fire and, even as they are passed to one, the meat juices trickle over the hot rice in a savory brown stream. The meat is usually purchased at the last village, where a large fish is also procured. This is broiled whole over the glowing coals. One enjoys this hot food, for in a few minutes is not the heat of the day to be swept away by the thoroughly chilled melons that have been bobbing in the cool near-by spring since our arrival?
When one says “melon” in the West, it means just that. When one says it in this country, however, it fills the mind’s eye with all the scenes that can be found everywhere at this season. The roads and streets are crowded with cart-loads, and full “jiggies” are carried on men’s backs. It would be impossible to estimate the hundreds of thousands of melons eaten per day at this time. One cannot step into a road or street but he sees some one squatted by the roadside quenching his thirst with a melon. There are small yellow ones reminding one of the casaba melon of the States. Some prefer a long green one tasting like a juicy cucumber. Still another is a squatty octagonal melon with a skin that is a dull green and spotted with black blotches. These are all peeled from one end and eaten out of the hand, being too firm to be eaten with a spoon.
The watermelons are sweet and juicy and have been carried the entire distance, strung on a pole. Each individual melon rests on its stem end in a round, thick hoop of rice straw. Tied to the hoop at intervals of three inches are suitable lengths of straw rope. These are brought up over the melon to meet in a single knot at the blossom end. A loop is provided through which a pole is thrust, and in this way melons are readily carried any distance. These ingenious methods of carrying such articles are probably the outcome of the scarcity of pure drinking water.
The exorbitant price of paper makes it possible for only a few prosperous shops to wrap their sales. Eggs are sold in strings of ten, wrapped in a thin layer of long, dried rice stalks. Fish is tied around the center with the same straw which certainly insures one from the possibility of the drip of an entirely covered package.
Peaches are at their best during the eighth month; and no load on such a trip is considered complete without the famous Korean pear. This fruit is shaped much like a large apple, and has a thin, smooth, tenacious, greenish-brown skin. Eating one of these pears is like drinking deeply of a refreshing beverage, there is so little pulp, and yet they are as crisp as celery.
Sons always accompany their fathers on these pilgrimages, and when one sees which members partake of most of the food, one realizes at once that these delicacies are a parent’s subtle means of expressing his indulgence to his offspring.
New, Ilhan. When I Was a Boy in Korea. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., 1928.
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