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| And Then There Were 7 |
| Surviving 'Comfort Women' at the House of Sharing |
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Michael Solis (internews)  |
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Published 2008-03-26 09:54 (KST) |
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 | |  The 800th demonstration outside the Japanese embassy in Seoul, February 2008. | | | | Within the collective unconscious of the Western world, a stereotyped vision of Asian elders pervades -- namely, that of a white-bearded man who sits on top of a grassy hill, waiting patiently to enlighten the youth with his copious amounts of sagacity.
But let's put the man aside for a second and turn to the hills of Korea. There, nestled in the rolling landscape of Kyeongi province, reside seven elderly women who possess the key to understanding one of life's most important lessons. The only problem is that not enough people are listening.
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FROM THE SECTION |
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| The women who live in the House of Sharing are known as halmoni, or grandmothers. More commonly they are referred to as "sexual slaves" or with the euphemized title "comfort women."
During Japanese colonial rule of Korea between 1910 and 1945, the "comfort women" suffered systematic, sexual abuse at the hands of the Japanese military. The Japanese military deceived families into thinking that their daughters would be working for factories or receiving educations, recruited young girls at schools to "serve" the government, and even kidnapped women who were walking alone on the street.
At the numerous comfort stations scattered throughout Asia, the "comfort women" were raped by Japanese soldiers and officers from 10 to 30 times per day on weekdays and even more frequently on weekends. Physical abuse was rampant, with soldiers often beating the women to the point of unconsciousness, branding them with hot irons, or slicing them with blades.
On top of the physical abuse, the majority of the "comfort women" acquired infections and sexually transmitted diseases. Those who became pregnant were administered shots of 606, an arsenic-based drug used to abort babies. Undergoing the poisoning and miscarriage process just a few times was enough to render many of the women incapable of reproduction, thus shattering any dreams they may have had for creating their own families after the war. Another common alternative for the pregnant or diseased was "mysterious disappearance."
An estimated 50,000 to 200,000 women were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese prior to and during World War II. Because Korea was Japan's only colonial territory, 80 to 90 percent of Japan's sexual slaves were Korean. It is estimated that only 25 percent of all "comfort women" survived their experiences and the war.
Now well into their seventies and eighties, the surviving halmoni have proven to the world that overcoming the years of subjugation and silence is possible. In 1991, Kim Hak Soon halmoni went public with her testimonial as a surviving "comfort woman," spurring approximately 200 women from North Korea and 200 women from South Korea to officially report their status as survivors to their respective governments. Between 40 and 50 South Korean women, or less than 0.1 percent of the original population of "comfort women," have recounted their pasts publicly with detailed testimonials.
In 1992, the Buddhist's Human Rights Committee helped open the House of Sharing, a communal home for sick halmoni or halmoni with little or no family. Despite their health difficulties, the House of Sharing halmoni join with other surviving "comfort women" every Wednesday to protest in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul between noon and 1 p.m. Feb. 13, 2008 marked their 800th consecutive protest.
The halmoni continue to pressure the Japanese government to respond to their list of seven basic demands, which includes admitting to the systematic drafting of military comfort women, issuing an official apology to the women, erecting memorials in Japan, paying reparations to the victims and their families, and punishing any surviving war criminals, among others. The Japanese government has yet to issue a formal apology directly to the halmoni and has only offered to provide the women with financial assistance from private Japanese donors. As of last year, the private fund expired.
The Korean government has issued the halmoni with 700,000 won per month (approximately US$700), but it has not pressured the Japanese government to take moral or legal responsibility for the massive violations of human rights committed during colonial rule. Many speculate that the Korean government has deliberately failed to act so as to avoid damaging diplomatic and economic ties with Japan.
Lack of adequate governmental support has not minimized the amount of fiery zeal that flows through the veins of the halmoni. A testament to this is the sprightly, fierce, and incredibly witty Yi Ok-Sun halmoni [grandmother], who currently resides at the House of Sharing. The 82 year-old is quite healthy but noticeably short of hearing, which she attributes to the beatings from Japanese soldiers, during which her ears were severely damaged and most of her teeth were knocked out.
After being snatched off of the street as a young girl and taken to China to work as a laborer in an airport, Yi Ok-Sun halmoni was forced to serve in a comfort station. She spent 58 years of her life in China and returned to Korea in 2000. Up to that point, Korean government records had listed Yi Ok-Sun halmoni as dead, so she had to revive much of her paperwork and prove that she was in fact still living. Soon after returning to Korea, Yi Ok-Sun halmoni offered her public testimonial and began participating in the Wednesday protests.
Still, the sadness that came with liberation has taken a toll on Yi Ok-Sun halmoni. The only family she has left in Korea is a younger brother who is too embarrassed to acknowledge her existence, and watching her fellow halmoni pass away with unfulfilled hopes has been heart-wrenching.
"I used to be a good singer," she told the wide-eyed group of visiting Koreans and foreigners who were pressuring her to sing to the house's karaoke machine. "You have to have the spirit to sing. But I don't have the spirit to do that anymore."
The House of Sharing is always open to visitors, and once a month there is an English tour of the house and museum offered by knowledgeable and dedicated volunteers. The tour ends with an interactive, translated discussion with the halmoni, provided that they are feeling well enough to participate.
With their numbers rapidly decreasing, the halmoni are aware that they may not successfully elicit an official apology from the Japanese government while they are alive. Although the halmoni have not given up, their concerns are shifting towards another vital goal: ensuring that their stories are not lost in history. The halmoni want the world to understand not only what happened to them but also what is currently happening to millions of women throughout the world. They want history to be recorded properly so as to prevent as many women as possible from falling victim to rape, abuse, and human trafficking.
Perhaps one of the most frightening things I learned at the House of Sharing was how little exposure Korean students themselves have received with respect to the "comfort women" issue. When a group of engaging Seoul National University students was asked about how much they learned about the "comfort women" in high school, the entire group responded in near unison.
"Just one or two sentences," they answered dejectedly.
The stories of the halmoni undeniably merit much more than a few mere sentences during history class. The halmoni are living pieces of an unresolved puzzle from the days prior to and during World War II that has to be properly pieced together -- a puzzle that has transcended generations, tested silenced spirits, and culminated in revolutionary acts of self-assertion. Their plight is one of profound enormity and unfortunately looming expiration.
The way to resolve this issue once and for all is through increased educational awareness and international pressure. If you, the reader, ever happen to be in Seoul or the surrounding area, seriously consider paying the halmoni a visit at the House of Sharing or in front of the Japanese embassy on Wednesdays. The more people who heed the advice of these wise and war-weary women, the better. And maybe, just maybe, the world's collective calling will penetrate the ears and hearts of Japanese government officials before the words of our heroic, Korean grandmothers fade into echoes.
For more information, please visit the House of Sharing Web site or attend to the next Wednesday protest. Everyone is welcome.
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Michael Solis is a visiting researcher at the National Human Rights Commission of Korea under the auspices of the Luce Scholars Program. He is a graduate of Princeton University.
The National Human Rights Commission of Korea was established in 2001 to promote human rights education and defend those who have experienced discrimination, or have had a human right violated, and to safeguard the provisions set for in international human rights conventions and treaties, to which the Republic of Korea is a signatory. The Commission offers counseling, full investigation and protection for residents in Korea, and develops educational initiatives for organizations and educators to increase awareness about human rights and the value of each individual in society. |
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©2008 OhmyNews
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