an unforgettable experience

“Who does not mind being arrested here? Raise your hand if you don't mind being jailed for the next 48 hours." Mr. Guerilla (Bok-Chul) spoke to several activists gathering near the gate of the construction site of the naval base in Gang Jung Village. His original plan to block the truck at the gate of the cement company had been tried, but was quickly withdrawn, and so we had to quickly decide our next move before the truck arrived at the construction site.

 

Four people, including myself, raised hand. Apparently, none of us had been arrested before. I raised my hand because if I were jailed, I thought I would save the time and energy of at least one long-time activist who had too much to do but no time to waste the next 48 hrs in jail. Activists at Gang Jung village are so few that losing one or two could have a big impact on carrying out plans and ideas.

 

This was why I volunteered. I didn't quite understand what it meant to be arrested and didn't really think about what I would need to go through for the next 48 hours.

 

Four of us, two women and two men, stood on the street side by side, crossing our own fingers and again our arms with each other's - we formed a chain. When the truck arrived, as we had expected, the truck driver got off, and shouted at us to move. He was pissed off because we not only did not listen t him, but the truck was surrounded by some other activists wandering around the truck taking our pictures. We didn't say a word. After a few minutes, a police came to us with a megaphone, and announced our act as an 'interruption of work,' warning us of being arrested. He repeated it three times, and we decided to sit to show our solidarity to continue to block the road.

 

Then all of a sudden, two full-size coach buses arrived, each carrying about 50 policemen and police women. When I saw them getting off from the buses and running toward us, I thought "that cannot be" because we were only four people, unarmed and clearly not acting in any threatening way. but before I finished my thought, they surrounded us in layers. All I could see were their black shoe laces and the reflection from their bright fluorescent yellow safety jackets.

 

Within one minute, all of us were dragged into a small van. I was grabbed by two-three police women. They were gentle with me because I almost didn't resist at all. I was thinking of the news scenes I saw of activists being dragged without any sign of violence. At that time, I did what I believed to be peaceful, but later realized I should have been more reluctant to move to express my determination to protest.

 

Anyway, without being explained, we were driven to a police station in Jeju city, an hour away from Gang Jung village. We were interrogated separately, and the woman who questioned me seemed very nice. She had a beautiful poem on her de나 titled <짧은 글, 긴 여운> by 법정스님, and had many beautiful orchids on the shelf behind of her desk. but unfortunately, she had no deep insight to sympathize the cause of the arrest or to extend her love for plants to love for justice. I refused to answer any of the questions related to the incident (as four of us all had pre-discussed with our private lawyer), but she repeated some meaningless questions several times in order to see if I would answer if asked differently.

 

Then after some time, one by one, our names were called, and we were guided to the designated cell. I was put into a women's cell with the other woman at the sight, who was also my colleague at Gandhi school. Although my decision to come had nothing to do with her thoughts, she seemed to feel responsible for my arrest since I was a new teacher who don't know much about the Korean culture/rally site/peace activism.

 

When we entered, three other activists who had been arrested that morning welcomed us with big smiles. One was 오두희, a member of 평화바람 (wind of peace) community who wad been in Ganjung for about a year. Another was 최영미, a Seoul-native who was fighting for gurumbi with passion ever since she fell in love with the beauty of the village. The last was 오이 (cucumber-nickname), also from 평화바람.

 

As soon as I entered the cell, I smelled something funky coming from the exposed-bathroom. Anybody could look into the toilet because the door was so low that it would cover only up to the thigh of a woman of an average height. When I first heard 오두희 shouting at the police officers "Don't you dare glancing at us here ! We don't like it !," I thought she was humorous. but soon enough, I realized although it's true she is humorous, she was shouting out of annoyance. Whenever I used the toilet, I felt uncomfortable because I could not ignore the police officers glancing at me in a sneaky way, and the sound of my pee-pee dripping was ringing the entire space.

 

At the opposite corner of the bathroom was my blanket and pillow. The blue blanket still had other womens' hair and smell. Our cell was special because unlike other cells, it had no metal rods. Instead, the cell was sealed by glass (with very small rectangular windows for ventilation). My colleague complained that she felt like a hamster in a glass-house. I thought of the six black pigs at our school locked up in a small space. We were really no different from them because the only thing we were well taken care of was to be fed three times a day.

 

The dinner box arrived at 5:45. I opened the disposable case - a big chunk of rice, weird-tasting kimchi and several pieces of dry seaweed were served. With a disposable pair of chopsticks and a plastic spoon, I ate up my first dinner. I thought "this isn't too bad."

 

Other women who had come ahead of us lended me many interesting books. I read 녹색평론, 한겨례 21, 나의 애완 텃밭 가꾸기 by 이학준, poem-collection of a poet 김사이, and a book whose title I cannot remember. I felt as if I went back to when I was in middle school, a period in my life that I thought of reading as a way to connect with the world. I was focused on every sentence I read, and was glad to realize my reading (korean) speed and ability to understand has improved a lot since I've returned to Korea four months ago.

 

Although the bathroom kept stinking whenever someone flushed (because the inner rotten air would come up), I appreciated the fact that I could read and meet and speak with other activists in an intimate space.

 

Well, the real pain started the following morning. I slept, but not really because of the white light that was never turned off. My body ached, so I stretched for minutes. I walked in the same space, switching left and right feet. I meditated for 50 minutes after breakfast, and felt my headache had been somewhat relieved.

 

I was becoming more and more sensitive about the sneaky eyes outside of the cell. Whether they were thinking of anything horny or not was no longer an issue; the fact that my privacy had been deprived itself became unbearable. but all the time I was in the cell, I wasn't quite aware of the level of my stress because I was trying to be calm and act in a civilized and proper manner by suppressing my annoyance, grievance, frustration, and embarrassment.

 

I stretched my body to ventilate my negative emotions. As a I lengthened my waste, I felt the muscle on my waste screaming out of pain. Well, it was about the dinner time when I really started reacting. I ate my dinner along with tofu (provided by a visitor), ate a banana, and started snacking afterward. I asked others, "why am I craving sweet things? it's so delicious ! " then they said, "it's because you are stressed." they were absolutely right because I vomited after three hours.

 

When everybody's stress level was reaching the peak, at the same time we were becoming close friends. We shared our stories about the gurumbi, activism in gangjung village, society, 문규현 father, and laughed at the odd coincidence of meeting each other in a jail cell.

 

At about 6:30, our names were called to be freed. It was about 10 hours ahead of the originally expected time (which would have been 10 am of the following morning). We were thrilled like little children.

 

The first thing I realized when I got out was that the sky is high and broad. It's a blessing to breathe air; it is a privilege to be alive.

 

So ended my first experience of being jailed. It's similar to my first experience of vipassana meditation in a sense that I didn't know what I would be going through when I started. If my 10-day experience of vipassana taught me how peaceful life can be, the one-day experience in a jail-cell taught me how ridiculous life can be.

I realized 'life that makes sense' does not come for free. It takes a strong will power to stand against the maliciousness of the monstrous social system that exerts its violence in everyday life.