For the Chong Family in Buyo...

In August of 1950, my mother was approaching her first birthday.  She was oblivious to the hustle and bustle in the home and the tension that was mounting.  The adults in the house were preparing to fight the invading North Korean army.  Everyone that was able bodied would take up arms to defend their home against the fast moving parasite that was engulfing their small nation.  In this tiny house in Buyo, there lived my mom, her brother, her mother and father, her grandparents, her aunt and uncle and their six children, fourteen inhabitants in total.  This fear was real and tangible.  The adults did not have to think back far to the 31 years of Japanese occupation.  Didn’t they just become free?  Weren’t they able to speak their native tongue for the first time in public?  Weren’t the ladies now protected from being the “comfort woman” to the Japanese?  Was freedom this elusive?

As I sat on the floor listening to my great aunt reflect on this time, my heart broke.  This was the house.  There were two rooms connected together with a porch and an outdoor kitchen with a makeshift roof.  I asked, “Where did everyone sleep?”  "Wherever they could fit on the floor.”  They had to all live together in order to survive.  My great aunt took on the duties of the 8 children while the five other adults worked to put food on the table.  The numbers flowed freely from her mouth.  They would not forget.  31 years of Japanese occupation. 5 years of freedom before the North Korean soldiers took over this tiny home.  They crossed the 38th parallel in June and entered my mom’s hometown of Buyo in August.  

The house was used for training soldiers while my 14 family members slept under the trees in the nearby woods.  I was so relieved when I learned that this all took place in the summer time.  Korean winters are unforgiving.  The house would be occupied for only 3 months.  Why?  Because the American soldiers were pushing back the North Koreans and fighting for my family’s freedom.  Many Americans willingly gave their lives for the tiny peninsula of South Korea.  I am thankful that I am American and that I am Korean, and I am very aware that I would not be if it wasn’t for those soldiers who laid down their lives for the Chong family in Buyo.