Welcome to BASE21

By Grass

------longin' for home

my journey to korea began 23 years a go when the rest of my family left to come to the united states to join my father. he had left in 1974 for the states a year after i was born. south korea was enduring incredible economic hardships at that time and many left as "economic refugees" to places "developed" areas such as the united states.

for the duration of my life, for the past 23 years i had lived in queens new york. my father had found a job as a superintendent in forest hills for a wealthy korean landlord. my mother immediately found a job as a seamstress in a proto-sweatshop for several dollars ( $3?) an hour. they supported three children, two daughters and a son. economic hardship and serious disagreements around religion fractured my family life from the onset.

for 23 years, i had lived in the heart of new york city, a perpetual foreigner to its shores. growing up in the reagan era, i was thoroughly obsessed with wanting to be "white". the shame that i held for my own foreign tongue and its culture was too much for me to bear. in 3 short years, by the age of 8, i had forgotten how to read and write my native language as my korean speech became stunted. even my own parents became foreign to me, a foreigner myself in this new land.

it has been a long 23 years. by the time bush sr. and the gulf war rolled along, the contradictions in my life had become too rife for me not to engage them fully. if i was not part of the solution, i was part of the problem. a radical rupture occurred in life as some would say. what the conclusions are to that part of my life has yet to be seen. for certain, my trip to korea is in part a search for those very same answers and that will be another story. i was compelled to come back to this country, more than i wanted to. i had to complete the fateful circle.

so being sent off with the love of friends and comrades in arms, on saturday, september 29th, i flew for thirteen hours to land on these shores which had given me my first birth. i was home.

-----good morning korea

there is not much that i remember from my youth but faded memories. by the time i had left korea, it was just on the verge of becoming an industrial nation and a new economic buffer zone against its "communist" state neighbors for the united states. but even my faded memories pale in comparison to the stark contrast of today's society. south korea and its capital city is a congested urban sprawl. thoroughly modern in every sense of the word, yet retaining much of its historical flavor. real estate is one of the most precious commodities in a country with less than 1/100th of the united states' land mass, but with 1/7th of its population. there are no world trade centers, but everywhere you look goes up.

the capital city of seoul is an incredible balancing act of urban planning. mixing residential, commercial, state, private and corporate elements all into one city. like a grand and wild stageshow - not like new york - not like paris - not like london, but seoul. its colors alone are wild, like opening a bag of starbursts. we are far, far away from the gothic palate of new york. there are small local shop hubs that advertise with sign boards of all colors shapes and sizes, attracting the wandering eyes of the wayfarer. food is to be found in abundance everywhere, with vendors and small shops that cater to almost every possible need.

in the era of capitalist globalization, south korea is the prime example of urban sprawl mall culture. perhaps more likeable to parts of staten island in new york minus the suburban trappings, it is a veritable consumerist wonderland that has come to serve concentrated populations. on the other hand it also boasts and revels in a strict work and educational regimen for its population. on a side note, the economy has not been very well, spawning a host of anti-corporate strikes and demonstrations by auto workers/ trade unionists that have challenged korea's current economic restructuring efforts.

the schooling system is perhaps the most conspicuous aspect of this country's social structure. unlike the united states, a war does not necessarily exist on young people. an obvious reason is that the population is relatively homogeneous though it is divided by regionalism and nationality for the strata of workers from mostly south asian countries. i would like to do some more study into how class inequities manifest themselves in a country like korea.

south korea is also a mountainous country. its cities and towns are literally built right into the mountainous folds and valleys, with certain uphill roads that make san francisco's uphill streets look like a runway strip. there is hardly any place that you can look on the horizon that does not show a glimpse of a distant mountain range or careful arrangement of trees and fauna.

though i had left the terror of the world trade center back in one home, i was also to come to the benign face of terror in my country of birth, the united states army. since the cold war, korea had been split in half by both the soviets and the united states for geo-political and strategic reasons. through a military alliance treaty, a defacto u.s.military occupation of south korea continues since the end of the korean war. there are some 30,000 u.s soldiers stationed on this small stretch of land. with the demise of the soviet union, north korea has become a proverbial boogie man that justifies a continual and sustained u.s. military presence. the real threat however is still the chinese and russians. with the demise of the cold war, it is not polite to name your enemies openly.

in many ways, the fortunes and woes of this country, like many others, are tied to the strategic goals and necessities of the american empire and imperialist globalization. with the influence of the united states government and the ever present potential of military/ economic intervention, dictators and presidents were molded to rule korea since it's independence from japanese colonialism in 1945.

-----choo suk and a tale of two families

from october first to the third, almost the entire nation shuts down for "choo suk". it is comparable to thanksgiving of sorts, but it is a harvest festival, and a time to remember the ancestors. i suppose it was good luck or coincidence that i came when i did, or maybe my ancestors wanted to make up for lost time.

my uncles drove me further north of seoul into the country side. the highways are congested and teeming with traffic, but the landscape is awe inspiring. i cannot comprehend the coexistence of the two. though the morning started out with a drizzle, it created a most incredible effect as mist arose from the lushly forested mountains into a seemingly opaque gray sky. it felt as if heaven met earth in a calm and collected embrace, dancing together as our car chugged along the highway.

drawing nearer to the sight of my ancestor's graves (on my mother's side of the family), we passed farming coops and livestock farms. land filled with cabbages, and greens. fruit trees with bulbous korean pears, apples, peaches, and grapes flanked the sides of the road. only a bit further down, we came across streams of rice paddies in full bloom. millions of stalks sprouted from the ground and covered the earth, creating a visual effect. a sea of ripe yellow shoots, like water in a lake, lulled back and forth rythmically.

the closer we got to our destination, the smaller the roads became, making the maneuvering of vehicles on these small one lane country roads a feat of automotive acrobatics. a paved winding road the width of one lane usually had to accommodate traffic going both ways. the sides of the road were littered with patches and small plots of crops or fruit trees. there, nestled alongside these winding roads laid, terraced plots of land with the graves of various ancestors.

my mother who is a lee, is from a family branch that traces their roots back to the korean lee dynasty going back 310 years. america was not even an idea yet. twenty two kings reigned until the successful invasion of the imperial japanese in 1910. their plot of family ancestral graves also went as far back as the founding of the lee dynasty. the duty of each successive generation, led by the patriarchs had to pay homage to their direct descendents. though i couldn't help but to be humored somewhat due to this fact, i was also confused and conflicted by this as well. korea had gone through periods of extreme hardship which equalized any material concept of class. The status of class once again reemerged with the capitalist redevelopment of south korea.

early in korea's history, there were many examples of full burials indicating strong indigenous sedentary cultures. by the time of the lee dynasty, cremations were also a part of the burial customs. cremations had long been the hallmark of nomad cultures as well as patriarchy. i can only postulate that there was some co-mingling of sedentary and nomadic strains in korea's history since the bodies are cremated, but there remains are buried in these funeral mounds. as always, the funeral mounds are one of the hallmarks of a family's status and class. with certainty, there were lapses in the fortune of family members as war, invasion and hardship visited the land.

the graves of my uncles were kept orderly and pruned. every year the clan would come and pay respects to their progenitors as theirs had done before them, unless it was in a time of calamity. the family immediately went to work picking out sprouting weeds and pruning the growth of grass on the funerary mound. they set up offerings to their father and mother consisting of fruits, cakes and prepared dishes. A rice wine was poured as a last offering. earlier in the morning back at the house, we had gone through a repetition of the ceremony, complete with incense. the wine cup was taken and stirred over the incense clockwise twice. here out in a subtle drizzle, the incense was set aside. in unison the clan finally gathered in attention to pay their respects. we all bowed down on our knees as muslims do in prayer, head to the earth, each time standing back up. this is completed with one half bow toward the ancestor.

my grand father (of my mother's side) had lived with me in america for two years in his late years. i had memories of spending time with him as i finished art school. i never called my grandfather by his name, and i still have not asked for his name for shame of my ignorance. he would go back to korea where he passed away several years later. my oldest uncle pointed out to me that he had always mentioned his experience with me in fondness.

and it made me think of those questions that remain elusive to most if not all of the living. who are we? from where do we come ? what is our purpose? where do we go? to such questions, there may be no certain answers, except in good fortune or personal experience where any one of us may come to a sudden realization, a moment of truth.

here i stood in front of a mother and father who had given birth to three sons and a daughter. the daughter who became my mother. in this homeland of which i had scarce memories of as a child, and for many years i would not want to go back to for fear of rejection, for fear of what i did not know, for fear that i would be shamed for losing my language, i stood once more on its earth, touched by heaven, to understand in the least, from where i had come, with a better understanding of the person i had become. this blood of my blood.

looking beyond and above my grandparent's grave mound were the mounds of the other ancestors, and i wondered a million thoughts of what their lives had been like, of what they must have wanted for their children and their children's children. the joys, sorrows and aspirations. were they just people? did they resist imperial invasion? did they fight for nationhood and against colonialism, or were they collaborators? i wondered, with the limiting western blinders that obfuscated my understanding. it led to so many new questions, which i will probably learn to deal with here for the duration of my stay. again, i wondered, this blood of my blood, who am i, and what have i become? where do i want to go? filled with emotions, i ate the offerings with my relatives. i had hoped that i didn't betray myself to them.

-----my father's mother

after the respects were paid and ritual complete, the wine was poured into the graves like giving libations. and the clan went their separate ways. i stayed with my oldest uncle. he was going to take me to see my father's grandparents' grave. for as much as i know, my father is from a peasant class. his father was a small farmer peasant like his before him and thus. i had never seen my father's father for he passed away long before i was born. but i have memories of my grandmother, whom i was told loved me to death. she used to carry me on her back like in so many traditional cultures while my mother went out to work every day to support the rest of us. but in america, my memories of grandmother had faded. it was only 7 years ago that my father was able to travel back to korea to rebury his mother who had passed away.

father never seemed to forgive himself over the fact that he was not there at the time of her death. she had died in her daughters presence, my aunt. in death's delirium, she called for her son far away on distant shores. her cries haunt my father to this day.

my uncle was trying to find the grave of my grandmother. coming from a different family line, it was not customary to pay respects to ancestors who were not in your line. in addition, i suspected that he had a bias towards my father's side of the family since they were of peasant background and still were farmers and laborers for the most. many of the children had grown up delinquent from what i understood. i still have yet to meet anyone from my father's line of the family. My unlce had been there seven years ago when my father came, with money saved to rebury his parents in a respectable grave mound. it was in another district, so he tried his best to retrace his steps.

finally after another hour of battling traffic and hazy memory, we arrived at a location which looked familiar enough. he was certain we had arrived. parking the car in a narrow unpaved driveway, we trecked not too long by foot up a paved mountain slope alongside farming houses and surrounding mountains. passing grave mound by grave mound, my uncle tried to jog his memory. the mound was not marked - as many weren't, so we passed one after another as he traced his steps.

there in the midst of finely kept grave mounds laid my grandmother's grave mound. in stark contrast with its surroundings, my grandmother's mound area was ravaged with overgrown foliage, thicket and weeds run wild. all around were families paying their respects. i looked again in denial. had it not been properly kept? didn't the other relatives come to take care of it? then i thought, "did it really matter who was responsible?" i had been estranged from my parents for sometime. i did not ask about grandmother, or her grave, or how my parents felt about anything. we had fought for far too long for discourse and now, there were so many things i wanted to ask. so many questions with no ready answers. a sharp streak of shame, then anger started to well inside of me.

no one was to blame. regardless the anger beat inside with a fury. my uncle was also saddened by the state of the grave. he was trying to make sure if the grave was the proper one. searching around further, he was pretty sure this was the right grave. taking the lead from my uncle, i picked up a sickle and started clearing the grave of the wild overgrowth. i had never done this before in my life. wielding a sickle in my hand was a foreign experience. we began hacking away in the afternoon sun. grabbing shoots and outgrowth with one hand and cutting with the other in unified fashion.

"from dust to dust, ye shall return from whence you came". what was it that i felt in my bones after 23 years? was it "nationalism"? was it the call from the beyond? how can we qualify what we do and do not consider a material relationship with our past, however remote and before our times? i felt it. the history, the energy - what do you call that? wishful thinking? losing yourself in dreams? we had finally finished cutting the overgrowth.

drenched in sweat, we started the ritual once again. "this one is all you", my uncle said indicating that i needed to carry out paying respects. "she must be feeling relieved", he concluded. after bowing, i poured the rice wine into the grave mound. the second and last cup was for me - we would have one last and only drink together in time.

-----search for meaning and purpose

if only stories were so clear cut. there is a deeper story here yet. the following week when i met my eldest uncle again, he quickly apologized and told me he had been mistaken. we had been in the right neighborhood, but at the wrong grave! he had double checked with my father back in new york. however, he commented that we shouldn't have any regrets, we had done an invaluable service for someone else's ancestors. my grandmother's grave was being kept! we were at the wrong grave. in a weird way, i felt that there were no mistakes though. it was not by coincidence that i helped to clear that grave. there is only hindsight and what is done.

but what was it about my identity that so connected me to a grave that was not my grandmother's? was it just a power of suggestion? did i come to this country so blindly to find something that wasn't there? did the fact that this woman was not of my immediate blood invalidate all of my feelings, all the things i felt?

in the final analysis � that grave was of my blood, uncertain and forgotten. full of anger, rage and wildness. more than the certainty of my blood, it is that which is unknown that is so familiar perhaps. after 23 years � what would be so familiar?

i searched for memories that weren't there. i resurrected what i could mentally. grandmother lying asleep in our one room apartment. my siblings and i all would play with her. catch me games. simple pleasures in simple times. there are other memories i tried to reconstruct. the day after visiting the ancestor sites, we then went to my old neighborhood to the last house that i lived in before coming to america. it was one of the few houses built during the 1960's that still remained after redevelopment began in the late 70's. all around it were signs of new construction. i searched my head for memories that might be there. the roads seemed so much wider in my memories. There was a store that no longer existed. did i mistake our house for that of others at times? with fragments I was trying to build a picture. would i think of something that didn't happen that i would try to convince myself that it did?

in a time demarcated by catastrophe and war. when coming from america where the allegiance to empire is obfuscated by the emotional value of consumption and ethical codes of self-annihilation, we can be so quickly and easily misled. i am trying to find out who i am, so i will know where it is that i can go, so that i will not be misled, most of all by my very own self.

the entire world looks towards leaders of many types, world views or things to give them the path to truth or enlightenment. many have yet to even beg the question and subconsciously follow the dominant trends. but there is ultimately one path of truth for ultimately, one world. there may be relative truth to that one path but none that i could see as being isolated or not being interdependent to this larger process that exists.

but within this quest lie the pitfalls that await us all. will our own search for truth juxtapose our wills against prevailing objectivity? against reality? my quest here in korea will continue to mirror this struggle for me. perhaps, this elusive truth, is to be found more in my actions rather than my thoughts.