I don't often write about things like this, but considering
the times of materialism in which we live, I thought it might be fitting to
remember a brave girl who found beauty and comfort in a cold harsh world.
During the late Choson era many of the Korean people lived
in abject poverty, subsisting on the crops they were able to harvest each year
and having little money for anything else. If they did manage to save a little
money they were often quickly relieved of it through the squeezing taxes of the
Yangban (nobility). Often the harvests failed and as a result, many people
starved to death. Others, out of desperation, sold themselves or members of
their family as slaves. It is difficult for us to understand but sometimes
slavery in Korea was preferable to freedom. A slave was fed, clothed and
sheltered by the slave's owner, but a free person was often left to fend for
himself and sometimes starved to death during years of famine.
Ok Pun-ie was born in 1892. Her family, most likely farmers,
was extremely poor, who barely eked out a living. They tried to provide for
Pun-ie and her younger siblings the best that they could, but despite their
best efforts; the children's lives were filled with hunger and cold. As time
went by, the family's situation became more desperate until it probably
climaxed in the great famine of 1901. Food was scarce and to the distraught
parents it soon became obvious that unless something drastic was done, they
would all perish. As was all too common in the past, the parents, in great
sorrow, sold Pun-ie into slavery to a wealthy family for a quantity of food
which they used to feed Pun-ie's siblings. She never saw her family again.
It is tragic to note that slavery had actually been
abolished several times in the past. The last time slavery was abolished was
during constitutional changes in the Korean government in the fall of 1895.
According to Resolution 9, “male and female slavery, whether private or
official, was to be abolished.'' However, laws are useless unless enforced, and
the law that was designed to protect Puni-ie, failed her.
Pun-ie's life as a slave was not a good one. Even though she
was a small girl she was forced to work long hours in the elements, fed too
little and beat too often. This continued until the winter of 1905 when on one
cold day her life changed. For hours she had been exposed to the cold with
little clothing and her hands and feet became frostbitten, yet she was given no
medical attention. Days passed into weeks and the condition of her hands and
feet grew worse, the pain intensified and eventually developed into gangrene,
and though she tried, she was no longer able to work.
Her owners took her to one of the foreign hospitals in Seoul
and explained to her that the foreign doctor would make her ``well as soon as
possible so that you can be of some use.'' The prognosis was bad, and the
owners left her, no longer concerned about her fate. For eight months the young
girl fought for her life, her days passed in fever induced states of delirium
broken only by the horrific pain in her limbs, or after being anesthetized for
surgery, sleeping in relative comfort. Remarkably Pun-ie often asked about her
owners during her lucid moments but she was always told that they would not
come and get her for a long time.
Pun-ie's final operation was completed in September 1906.
The gangrene had been so severe the doctors had no other choice but to amputate
both of her hands and one foot. Over the next months she was left to recuperate
and become accustomed to her new life. Though she had only been a slave in the
eyes of many, to the Western doctors and nurses of the hospital she soon became
an inspiration.
During the Christmas season of 1906, Pun-ie noticed Minerva
Guthapfel (a nurse) writing a letter to her friends in the United States.
Pun-ie asked the nurse to please include a greeting from her: ``the happiest
girl in Korea.'' Nurse Guthapfel could not believe that this poor child could
possibly think of herself as ``the happiest girl in Korea,'' and asked her to
explain why she felt that way.
Pun-ie gave six reasons. First, the doctors had taken away
all of her pain. Second, she had not been beaten once since she had arrived at
the hospital. Third, she no longer felt the pangs of intense hunger. Fourth,
she was never going back to her owners but was instead to live the rest of her
life in the hospital. Fifth, the small Christmas tree in the hospital was the
first that she had ever seen, and she thought it was beautiful though it was
nearly bare of ornaments. Finally, she had found God.
Over the next couple of years Pun-ie improved and always
maintained her insistence that she was the happiest girl in Korea. Many people
could not understand how she could remain so cheerful. One Korean woman even
wondered why the doctors ``didn't take the knife they used to cut off her
hands, and put it through her heart.'' It would have saved ``lots of trouble and
lots of expense.'' They couldn't understand that Pun-ie gave something back in
return _ she gave inspiration.
She became baptized and was no longer known as Pun-ie but as
Anna Song. She learned to write with a pencil tied to the stumps of her hands,
and though it was a laborious process, she wrote letters to the nurses that had
befriended her and returned to the United States. Her story became known in the
States and one woman, whose daughter had recovered from a severe illness, sent
a wheelchair to Korea for Anna's use. She also served as an interpreter for the
hospital and reminded others that their pains and sorrows were not as bad as
they believed. There is always hope.
After 1910, the story of Anna Song faded from history
(perhaps some of the religious libraries or archives in Korea might be able to
add to this story) but she left us her legacy. During this holiday season I
think it's important that we think about those around us and the trials they
face, and not concentrate so much upon our own, because often ours pale in
comparison.
