Yesterday while I was having lunch, I watched the funeral for these guys on TV and it really saddened me. Forget the politics, the 'who dunit', the conspiracy theories, and the sickening retaliation-seeking ignoraniums who comment on CNN.com, I just want to make a quick comment about what this event meant for me.
I was sitting with my Korean tutor a couple Saturdays ago for a language exchange. It is normally a very casual affair. We were sitting in a nice cozy coffee shop in Sinchon, on a street right off the main intersection. The place was quiet, dark from the low lighting, and I felt really comfortable around the barrels of coffee bean and wooden decor.
When I come to these language exchanges with my Korean tutor, who is in his last year of university, studying journalism and business, I prepare a list of topics for us to discuss so he can practice his English. I try to think of interesting topics: food, movies,TV, culture, current events, etc, things we can get passionate about so the conversation flows. From these language exchanges, I not only help someone with their English, get tutored myself on the basics of Korean language and scripture, but most importantly, I get insight into Korean culture from someone my age.
So I asked him what he thought about the Korean ship that sunk last month. Prior to this, all I knew was from what the English newspapers were publishing. I knew that 100 or so men were on that boat. It sank from an unknown form of explosion. Forty-six of these men died. They were trapped and in the days that followed there was rainy stormy weather and the efforts to find them were futile. They tried pumping air into the sunken portion with hopes that men still might be alive. An older man died in his rescue efforts. My first thoughts were of coverup, of tight-lipped officials keeping secrets, of sketchy business.
But my Korean tutor ignored these sentiments and instead said: that incident was very symbolic for the Korean people, it was very personal. Those who died were just kids, boys serving their mandatory three years of duty, some of them having only months left before being able to return to their lives, finish their school, find pretty Korean girls to shower with gifts, travel, and start real life. My tutor was also a sailor so it brought back memories of his times on duty. So when these boys died, I think all the Korean mothers felt they lost a son.
I had forgotten that tragedy has a human face too.
So as I watched the funeral procession yesterday and saw all the framed photos of youthful handsome men being mourned by a nation embedded with a history of war and violence, I was awakened again to another side of news. As a journalist, news to me has become just words on a page. I read on average three differnet news sources a morning. So many murders and deaths, dictatorships and riots, explosions and bombs, torture and warfare, inequality and extremism that happen all around the world everyday, I feel I have become desensitied in a way to suffering and pain. I can feel compassion. But it's not the first thing I feel in a situation like this. My first reaction is normally: "God, what now?"
Speaking to my tutor and listening to him try to convey what this incident meant to himself and the people of his country put a human face on the tragedy.
I think of my kids. I think of their optimism.
Jay, my super cool tutor and me, with something terrible for my health.
This place looks a lot brighter in pictures than in my memory.
