Jinah was taken-in by a family that was by most standards perfect. They had a mom, a dad, two daughters and a son away at college. They had a beautiful house in town next to the hospital and cemetery (something I always thought was a convenient coincidence for those who passed on during their stay). They were also quite active in the school, running to games and activities, volunteering and talented, too. They were seemingly perfect for a foreign exchange student because they were seemingly the perfect Caucasian American family.
The whole year plays out in my mind now like a movie. The girl comes and is welcomed with open arms. She is treated like a princess for the first month maybe two. Then the novelty starts to wear off. She doesn’t speak very good English, thus there’s a lot of miscommunication. There are a lot of necessities for her, so she becomes a hassle. And finally, she says she’s not really Christian and doesn’t want to go to church. Well, we can’t have that. If she’s going to be that ungrateful, we’ll no longer help her or accept her as apart of our family. She may live under our roof for the rest of her stay, but it won’t be pleasant, she will not be happy!
And that’s my guess as to what went on behind closed doors. A scenario out of the pages of Harry Potter. She’s taken in, then told to live under the stairs. Only in this case she was accepted by choice (and it’s my guess for appearances sake, too). Then after she did not live up to their perfect expectations, she was berated for being different, for being foreign, for being herself.
I must say now that I’m quite proud of my group of friends in high school. They were kind to her, invited her places, showed her things, tried to talk with her. They tried to understand a little as to what it was like for a foreigner to come to small-ville, Wisconsin. Thus, I think she was happy for some time, even if it was only once every weekend.
Then there was how I got to know her. Jinah had joined the cross-country team for something to do after school and to meet new people. I was a senior then and on my last and final year of sports, plays, activities and so on. Needless to say, I was very busy. But as she was on the team, I tried to get to know her a bit. One of the few who was not scared to talk with her right away, she started to ask me for rides home when the weather was bad. So I of course said yeah, sure, and thus started our friendship. I tried so hard to get what I was saying across to her. I doubt whether 80 percent of it was ever understood, but I think she just liked to be talked to, to feel accepted by someone. So I kept chatting, asking her questions (sometimes miming them if she didn’t understand), and always hoping that she wasn’t bored with me and that someday she would flood our conversations with her miraculous English.
That of course never happened. She improved but was in no way talkative really. She was just sweet, with a kind disposition. She seemed to enjoy everything she came across except for the front door to the family’s house where she stayed. Thus, I liked her very much and was very sad to see her go that spring.
Six years later my mother finally opens a drawer that has been stuck shut for two years. On the top of all the junk sits a piece of paper with a name slightly forgotten, with information below it slightly inaccurate. It also happens that I am living in the same country now as the girl and as the information. I can now read it and speak enough of HER language to contact her. I also happen to be at home in Wisconsin, on an unplanned two-week leave, when my mother happens to find this all the week before. Thus, I came home and found yet another reason to go back. Like I’m meant to be living in Korea, meant to meet this girl six years ago, and then meant to find her again. Funny how life works like that, but that’s how this one happened to pan out.
Three weeks ago I tried emailing the address on the information slip. It couldn’t send, the address was non-existent. I tried looking up the apartment address on the internet, and found nothing. Then I tried calling her cell-phone, and was a different person altogether. Finally, I tried her home phone. I asked for Jinah Jang. My Korean felt oddly strong that day. I remembered how to ask where she was. So I asked. I didn’t understand the answer, but did at the same time. My guess was that she was ‘out’, but that she did live there. That this was her father and that he knew what I was asking about.
Then I realized I hadn’t tried speaking English yet, and that maybe he thought I was Korean. So I said in English, “I’ll call back.” At this the gentlemen simply when “Ahhh!”, like it was all making sense to him, like the bad Korean on the other end had some logic to it now. He just said ‘Nae, jomshimanyo’ (Yes, wait a minute.) My heart picked up a beat, was he going to get Jinah? Was she actually there?
He came back and instead was able to say in his limited English the ‘handa-phone’ number in English. I thanked him profusely then called the number he’d read for me. She picked up after only two rings. I spoke in English, she seemed confused. I tried the Korean phone etiquette’s “Yoposaeyo?” and she seemed more confused. I switched back to English and tried to explain quickly who I was. CLICK. She hung up on me. My bad, I botched that one. So, I texted her then and explained who I was and what I was doing in Korea. Not fifteen minutes later did I receive a text back with nearly all exclamation-points. She was indeed so happy to hear from me!
So we made plans for that weekend. She lives in Gwangju, about four hours south of me by train. So, I being the lover of all things new and exciting, hopped on a train for Gwangju and was accepted with open arms by her, her friends and her family. We went for tea at a university area tea café. Then did the very Korean sticker-photo booth and made memories to last as long as the adhesive does. Then onto dinner with her family at an all vegetarian buffet… turns out Jinah is vegetarian as well! After that, we ended the night in a ‘W-ii room’, a place where you can rent any game and a room for an hour for five thousand won (about $5).
The next day we went to the Bamboo Forest near Gwangju with her and her friends. It was a beautiful place, and a lovely day for a walk. So we got to walk and talk, and catch up on life over the past six years. A truly lovely experience, and one I’ll never forget.
