Read Online From Wonso Pond by Kang Kyong-ae - Free Book Online

dog,” said Sourstem. “How about you buy me a drink if I sing?”
    â€œYou got it.”
    Ch’otchae was more thirsty than ever at this mention of alcohol. His mouth started to water as though he could see a bowl of milky-white brew right there before his eyes.
    â€œNo, I quit. My voice is worth more than a cup of booze.”
    â€œOh, come on. Let’s just do it.”
    Several of the men cried out at the same time. Yu Sobang then took off his straw hat and began fanning himself with it.
    â€œIt’s hot as hell out here. Just sing something, will you? If you don’t want brew, I’ll buy you some hard stuff.”
    â€œDon’t go getting a big head, Sourstem, just ’cause you can sing.” Little Buddha knocked Sourstem’s hat off his head with a tap of his hand.
    â€œHey, stop it . . . Whose place are you going to weed tomorrow, anyway?”
    â€œI’m going over to help in Samch’i Village, why?”
    â€œThose fields are packed with rocks. They must be hell to weed.”
    â€œYeah, and the tenant pays five sacks of rice for them, too.”
    â€œWell, he must not pay the land taxes, right? With the rent so high . . .”
    â€œHe pays everything, the taxes, too.”

    â€œOut of his own pocket? You’ve got to be kidding! He’s going to starve working those fields.”
    Sourstem cast a sidelong glance at Yu Sobang. Since the man worked for Tokho, the rest of them always kept their distance from him. Little Buddha spit on the ground.
    â€œI don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s up to lately,” he replied under his breath.
    He wrapped his hand around a millet plant, so as not to damage it with his hoe, and he chopped into the ground, loosening the soil around it. The wind just then picked up, and the blades of the millet plants swayed softly in the breeze.
    A calf lowed somewhere off in the distant. Sourstem lifted his own chin into the air:
    The grains of millet I pay to him
Are round as chestnuts, round as dates
And they roll around, roll around
On the lips of my love
    Earthworm cleared his throat and took a firm grip onto his hoe:
    The landlord lends me millet
That is nothing more than chaff
Which scrapes the grudge in my heart
Each time I swallow
    Each of them let out a deep sigh.

19
    â€œAlright listen, if we’re going to sing, I want something uplifting. Enough of these sad songs!” Little Buddha, flushed with anger, grabbed his hoe and flung it to the side. Like a whirlwind, a memory had swept through his mind—the memory of borrowing grain from Tokho on outrageous terms.
    Tokho’s barnyard that spring day had been crowded with tenant farmers who had come for loans of millet.

    After they’d all waited for some time, Tokho finally came out with a long pipe between his lips.
    â€œWhy so many of you?”
    This is what Tokho always said when he handed out his loan shark grain.
    Tokho scanned the crowd standing in a circle around him. Each of the farmers who happened to catch Tokho’s eye felt his heart stop and quickly bowed his head, afraid of being the unlucky one sent home empty-handed.
    The lines set in Tokho’s face tightened. In the crowd were people who hadn’t even paid back their grain from the previous year.
    â€œHumph! So what happened to everything you grew last year, huh? And you! Don’t tell me you don’t have anything left either?”
    Tokho stared at Sourstem. The young man scratched his head. “Well, yes . . .”
    â€œI wonder why . . . Looks to me like none of you boys know how to economize when it comes to food. If you keep on borrowing in the spring, things will be tough for you all come fall. Am I wrong?”
    The farmers listened with their heads hung low.
    Tokho was ready, pen in hand, to write down the names of each farmer into his notebook and note exactly how many bushels and scoops of grain they took away.
    They all turned their