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Yellow City
by Korean novelist Youngkwan Kim1.
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 don´t say this again, because I don´t 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 it´s better to go into the mice hole. Because they are young, rich and we are old and poor. Jang says, he´s 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, I´ll 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. Please be alive!
Youngkwan 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.
yeungkwankim@gmail.com