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

heads toward the creaking sound of the granary door, which Yu Sobang was opening. Several of the men ran over to help him drag out sacks of millet. With a long swishing sound, they poured the millet onto straw mats spread out on the ground. Oh, that familiar sound of flowing grain! And all that chaff that flew up into white clouds of dust!
    Driven by an unconscious urge, they huddled around the millet, then scooped up handfuls of the hulled grain to examine it closely, and placed a few grains in their mouths to taste.
    The millet they had harvested and paid to Tokho the previous fall had a mellow flavor, like well-ripened chestnuts or dates, and they could actually roll the individual grains around on their tongues. But this millet, wherever it came from, had a coarse texture, as though it had been half mixed with chaff—it felt like they were chewing on the empty husks of grain.

    The farmers had been thrilled to know they’d be able to receive grain, even on such outrageous terms. But now they were being cheated, and they knew there was no place they could make an appeal. The injustice of it all came to them in an overwhelming rush of feeling.
    Yu Sobang looked at the farmers, who were exchanging desperate glances. “Well, come on, grab your bowls and make a single line.”
    Only then did the farmers pull themselves together and line up single file to collect their grain.
    That sound of millet flowing from the scoop into their sacks! Had it been a stone crashing onto their chests, could it have been any less painful?
    Â 
    His mind having wandered this far, Little Buddha now let out a deep sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked absentmindedly at the millet stems, which he had cared for with as much love as he would his own children. He felt the urge now to simply walk away—wherever his legs would take him—and to leave his hoe right there where he had tossed it.
    â€œCome on. Let’s have another song!” Yu Sobang tried to break the silence. But Little Buddha remembered that it had been Yu Sobang himself who had doled out that millet half mixed with chaff.
    â€œHey . . .” Little Buddha started to shout at Yu Sobang, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He stood there staring blankly at the man.
    They weeded the row assigned to them, then turned back to start another. This one was overrun by more arid thistle than the other. The ground between the thistle was dotted white with shepherd’s purse flowers. Sourstem jumped to his feet and looked up at the sun to estimate their progress.
    â€œI wonder if we can get all this weeded before sunset,” he mumbled.
    â€œAre you crazy? There’s no way we can finish by sunset.” Little Buddha looked up as he spoke to Sourstem.
    â€œCome on, let’s hear another song.”
    Ch’otchae looked over at them. Squatting on the ground, Sourstem began singing a field song:
    I’ll follow you, my dear, I’ll follow you
I’ll follow you, my love

Though I drag my lame leg behind me
I’ll follow you, my love
    â€œNow that’s more like it!” Earthworm cried.
    â€œHey, guys,” Little Buddha jumped to his feet. “Who’s that?”

20
    They all looked up at the same time. Coming right toward them was a man in a suit and a girl wearing high-heeled shoes. Burning with curiosity, they sprang to their feet.
    â€œCome on, boys, that’s Okchom, Master’s daughter,”said Yu Sobang.
    â€œNo way! That’s Okchom? I heard she went to study in Seoul. What’s she doing back here?”
    â€œShe said she wasn’t feeling so good.”
    â€œSo who’s that in the suit?”
    â€œBeats me!” Yu Sobang replied after a while.
    â€œLooks like she went off to Seoul and caught a man for herself.”
    With this, Little Buddha plopped himself down on the embankment at the side of the road.
    â€œShit! Some men have all the luck. Pretty girls, money,