Subway

I live in Bundang, a growing city just outside of the capital city, Seoul. I take the subway to Seoul every week, 1.5 hours one way, to get to my piano lesson. Public transportation in Korea is beautiful, except when it's rush hour and 아줌마s (middle-aged Korean women) push me around, literally, in the heap of Korea's dense population. The lack of personal space used to bother me at first, but now I just push them right back and pat myself "well done" for being true to myself. Much can be observed and learned during these trips. Watching people, Korea's people, and brushing alongside of them in these underground stations, have been a great means for entertainment and education.

Well, yesterday, as I was returning from my piano lesson, with Beethoven's weighted piece still being played somewhere inside me, I found a seat on the subway. I opened my book and stuffed my earphones in, wanting to shut out my surroundings for a while. The subway was pretty empty at this time of day (just before noon) and most people were sitting down. But there was this man standing by himself, making gestures. From the corner of my eye, I could tell that he was talking. This is strange, I thought, because he was standing there by himself. So in my curiosity, I peeked a glance and saw that he was talking to noone in particular. Looking straight ahead, at noone but space or maybe the door, and with a zealous look on his face, he appeared to be giving a persuasive speech. My music was playing loud so I dug into my purse to stop the music and listen to him for awhile.

I thought, this is a schizophrenic man talking to his invisible friend, I have to check this out. So I listened for less than a minute and recognized what he was saying. "You will go to hell..." ...you get the idea. He was preaching the Gospel. I had to hold my head to prevent it from shaking in disregard.

Maybe he really did have mental health problems. If that's the case, okay. I understand. But c'mon, if that was just some fanatic method of evangelism, stop representing religion and/or spirituality as a madman's belief. Clearly, he looked insane.

My worlds colliding...most of you probably won't get this. I'm not sure I do.

I put my earphones back on and remembered a scene at Itaewon, the foreigner's city in Korea, or the US military party town. A couple of weekends ago, as I was waiting for my friends, I took a stroll and approached a motley gathering of Korean evangelists singing worship songs over the loud speaker, and a jewelry stand set right across from the singers, gathering its diverse customers and listeners. A couple men, may have been Arab, were sitting on a ledge huffing and puffing cigarettes, and I wondered why they were sitting in the middle of all that confusion. Then I saw a tall black man walking casually past this crowd and suddenly a very old Korean man, looking like a beggar, hit him. Yes, he hit him. I started to laugh but caught myself. The tall black man then threw a scrunched peice of paper at him with his tongue flickering profanities. Imagine. Indian tourists were there also, talking amongst themselves, oblivious to the chaos, and people disguised under Halloween costumes walked in and out of the circle, always turning their heads to the singers. I wondered, did these worship leaders really think they were doing their onlookers a service? I saw many things in that scene. Racism. Prejudice. Presumptuousness. Judgment. Diversity.

I didn't know Korea could be so diverse. Most days I just see yellow faces and shimmering black hair. I see duplications of my father and mother everywhere I go. Many look alike. Act alike. But I pick out things to observe. And learn. This is why I'm in Korea. I want to know my roots.