Author Archives: Sonya Egoian

“Duk Guk on New Year’s”

            Born in an agricultural town in South Korea, the informant shared the tradition of cooking and eating  떡국 (duk guk), a rice cake soup that sometimes includes dumplings called 만두 (mandu), on New Year’s day, or 설날(Seollal). The informant explained that her first memory eating the soup was at the age of three, and it has since been so ingrained in her lifestyle that she has carried the practice over to America, where she and her family enjoy the delicacy each New Year. As the informant spoke about the yearly tradition, she was in the process of cooking dinner for her family, and she added that this felt natural to her because cooking in groups was often a social experience as well in Korea, when women could talk freely with one another.  

 

            We always eat duk guk on New Year’s. We always eat it for breakfast New Year’s morning. The tradition of making mandu in our family began when I was, eh. . .maybe seven or eight. It was always the women. The men usually gathered together in another room and drank and played cards. Duk guk is part of our inherited culture. Duk is, you know, long and a little thicker. . .it’s like a water hose, and when they actually make duk in a big kitchen or factory it’s almost as long as a water hose, too (the ones I bought at the market for you and your brother when you were kids are just always already cut up). But, when I was little we would take the really long duk home and after it hardened a little bit we would cut up in the oval shape that you see in the duk guk. The long duk symbolizes long life, which is why we eat it on New Year’s. Duk guk is made with beef broth, which we make first, and then we add the duk, and then the mandu, and then a little bit of egg, and finally we sprinkle thinly sliced seaweed over the top.

            The mandu that we put in the duk guk is a fun activity that allowed us ladies to get together. We make it in an assembly line style, and we assign who does what part depending on what they are good at―some people are better at mixing, or putting the stuffing in, or folding the dumplings. Making the mandu is where the cooks can get more artistic; each person might make them a little differently, and if you’ve been making mandu together for a long time you can tell who made what dumpling. During the mandu-making process we might be gossiping, or telling funny stories, that’s how it’s always been.

            The funny thing is that, in Korea, once you eat duk guk on New Year’s day, everyone gets one year older. So in Korea, you do not age on your birthday. . . everyone ages on New Year’s day. You might still have a small celebration on your actual birth date, but you earn one more year only on New Year’s Day. You get a year when you’re born―you’re already one year old, and then you get another year when you eat the duk. That’s why your Korean age and American age might be a little different. Oh, and didn’t I tell you? . . everyone eats duk guk.

 

            The informant’s description elegantly explains the reasoning behind why duk, the rice cake, is eaten on New Year’s. The combination of its symbolism of long life paired with the process of aging collectively on New Year’s in Korea shows that, in Korean culture, perhaps there is a muted emphasis on individual importance (i.e. a big birthday celebration for each person). This value is seen again in the dumpling-making process, as each person contributes to one dumpling, only able to express their individualism and talent in little, creative ways. The women, quite literally, expend equal amounts of energy during the cooking process, and thus the food presented to the men and rest of the family is a undoubtedly collective effort. The informant also emphasizes several times that “everyone” eats the dumpling soup, implying the link to a national identity when Koreans eat duk guk.

“The Story of Maui”

 

            The informant is from Honolulu, Hawaii and she first heard the myth in elementary school, where she explained she learned most of the folklore and traditional stories related to Hawaii due to the inclusion of what she called “cultural education” in classroom curriculum. A practicing Hula dancer, the informant also picked up stories during her dance classes as a child. The informant also explained that the myth was authored into a song by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, a popular Hawaiian folk singer who encouraged Hawaiian sovereignty by reviving and popularizing traditional Hawaiian stories.

           

             Maui―like the island―was a demigod. Well, he was better than a person but he wasn’t a deity. He was a super trickster kind of guy; he was fun, and sneaky, like a hero. Maui is actually in a lot of Hawaiian stories, but one of the popular ones that a lot of kids know is that he was canoeing with his brothers when he received a message from a god. It might’ve even come to him in a dream, but it had definitely come from a god. The message was that if he went fishing, he would pull up a huge catch, um, but he couldn’t turn around to look at it or he would lose his catch. So he and his brothers are paddling, and Maui feels his line go taut. He pulls it, it’s really heavy, but he keeps pulling as the canoe moves forward. One of his brothers, the story goes, turns around, and because the brother looked the line snapped. Turn out, Maui had actually pulled up the Hawaiian islands. That’s why Hawaii is shaped like a chain, with the big island and the small ones trailing behind it. They descend in size because that’s what they looked like coming out one by one from the ocean. It’s actually said that there would have been more Hawaiian islands. . .but somebody looked.

 

            The story the informant retold bears all the classic indicators of a myth. It takes place in a pre-world (or, in this case, “pre-Hawaii”) setting, the characters involved are of divine or semi-divine importance, and it describes the genesis of a land and its people―the story of Maui is, more narrowly, a creation myth.

            The myth’s presence in Kamakawiwo’ole’s song immediately reminded me of stories about Hercules. The lyrics retell a string of Maui’s heroic deeds much in the same way books on Greek mythology usually dedicate a chapter or more to describe the (lengthy) list of Hercules’ achievements. The informant explained that Kamakawiwo’ole encouraged a resurgence of a Hawaiian identity movement through his music, and his lyrics clearly illustrate the pride Hawaiians should have in their land and culture. For Kamakawiwo’ole’s musical rendition of the myth, please see his “Maui Hawaiian Sup’paman,” produced  by Big Boy Records.  

“The Heavenly Maiden and the Woodcutter”

            The informant, who was born and raised in South Korea until immigrating to the United States as a young adult, tells a popular childhood fairytale about a woodcutter and a heavenly maiden. As far as the informant knows, the tale dates as far back as at least the Chosŏn Dynasty, the last and longest-lived dynasty in Korea that began with General Yi’s proclamation in 1392 and ended in 1910. According to her, it is one of the most oft-told tales during childhood, and that most children’s storybooks would include it. In fact, the informant herself had a published version of the tale in a children’s book she bought for her own children. The text and images included are from this book, the story re-told by Lee Hyung Sung, illustrated by Lee Mung Sun, and published by Ji Gyung Sa.

            The informant finds “The Heavenly Maiden and the Woodcutter” a touching story because of its ultimate sadness. She feels that Western tales, she cited Disney renditions of fairytales in particular, are easy to forget because “each one makes you feel the same way. . .they leave you happy, but children are happy most of the time, so wouldn’t a child remember something better if it made them feel sad?” The sadness and bitterness that concludes the story is not necessarily a result of anyone’s faulty behavior or poor judgment. Rather, the informant explained, it is a set of unfortunate circumstances that leads to the forced separation between the woodcutter and his wife and children, so by the end of the tale there is no one or nothing to truly blame for the situation. For that reason, she remembered this story above all other childhood tales that she heard, and she knew she wanted her children to hear it as well, to show that sometimes, in life, it is futile to struggle to find a concrete reason behind the sadness that we will all come across in life.

 

 

            Long ago in another land, there was a woodcutter who lived in the countryside with his old mother. He was so poor that even though he was an adult he could not get married. No one wanted to marry him because he was so poor and living with his mom. So his wish was always to get married. One day, he was in the deep forest cutting and collecting the wood, and there was a deer running hard toward him. The deer asked him, “Please save me! The hunter is coming after me! Please help!” The woodcutter told the deer to hide underneath his pile of chopped wood. Sure enough, a couple minutes later the hunter came passing by and asked the woodcutter, “Have you seen a deer running?” The woodcutter told him, “The deer went all the way that way” and pointed him in the wrong direction, even though the deer was hiding underneath the pile of wood. So, of course the hunters follow the path  the woodcutter pointed to, and a couple minutes later he lifted the wood and told the deer, “Okay now you can come it, it is safe.” However, this deer was a spirit of the forest and he told the woodcutter, “Thank you so much! In return for your kindness I’d like to make one of your wishes come true. So, what is your wish?” The woodcutter explained, “Well, I am so poor and even though I’d like to get married there’s no lady to get married to. . .I want to be married.” The deer told him, “In the deep forest, there is a big pond. Every 15th, when there’s a full moon, heavenly maidens descend from the sky and bathe in the pond. Go there and hide one of the maiden’s outfits, which allow them to fly back to heaven. If you hide it, one of the maidens will not be able to fly, and you can take her to your house, where she will be your wife.” The deer firmly added, “Remember, no matter what do not give the maiden her outfit until she has had three children.”

            So, the woodcutter followed the instructions. He really went deep in the forest during the full moon and, sure enough, the maidens were out and having fun bathing. He went to where the clothes were piled and then hid one of the robes behind a tree. When the maidens are done bathing, they put their robes back on and fly up to the sky again. But one of the maidens kept looking and looking for her outfit and couldn’t find it and she began crying. So, slowly the woodcutter went to her and told her, “Here are some clothes, would you come with me?” (they were human clothes, of course).

The woodcutter reaches the pond

          She had no choice, so she went with him and became his wife. They had two kids and lived very happily. But, every once in a while, always during a full moon, she would look at the sky, missing her home. The woodcutter felt really bad watching her missing home, so he thought that they seemed happy enough―they already had two kids―and maybe it was okay to give her the winged maiden’s outfit. So one night when she was crying again he gave her the winged robe and explained that he trusted her not to run away because he could see that she was happy. She was happy, and asked if she could try it on. Of course, as soon as she put it on the feeling of flying and of seeing home returned to her. She held her two kids―one in each arm―and flew back to the sky in her winged robe. The woodcutter has now not only lost his wife but his two kids, as well. He cried every day.

The heavenly maiden flies away with her children

            One day, the deer came back to him and said, “I told you not to give her the winged robe until she had three children. The reason being that she cannot hold three―she only has two arms! No matter what, she could not bring herself to fly without her children. But, you didn’t listen to me, and now this has happened. I will give you one more chance. After the time when you hid the robe, the heavenly maidens don’t come down to the pond anymore to bathe. Instead, they send a bucket from the sky and lift the water to the heavens. When the bucket comes down to the pond, get in the bucket and it will lift you to the sky.” Again, he followed the instructions and, sure enough, the next full moon a bucket came down from the sky. He hopped in the bucket and was lifted to the heavens.

The woodcutter ascends to the heavens

             He saw his wife and two kids, who were so happy to see him, and his wife asked if he could stay and live with him. He stayed there until the next full moon, but soon he became worried about his mom back on Earth. He was happy, in a way, but still missed his mother back home. So the heavenly maiden said, “Since you are missing your mother so much, I will give you this winged horse so you can go to see your mom, but please come back! You must be riding the horse the whole time; if your feet touch the ground, the horse will fly away and you will not be able to come back.” He promised his wife he would just visit his mom and he would return right away.

            The winged horse took him to his mom, but he could not jump off to the ground. He explained this to his mom and she understood. That day, she had made a really hot pumpkin porridge, which is one of the woodcutter’s favorite dishes. She told her son, “That’s okay, you don’t have to come to the ground, but I made some delicious pumpkin porridge and I will bring it out to you. You can eat it on the horse and then go back to the sky.” She brought the bowl of soup and he was eating while still on his horse. By mistake, he spilled some hot porridge on the horse, who cries “Aiiiih-aiiiih” and jumps up and down in pain. The horse’s rocking knocks the woodcutter to the ground and, of course, the horse flies away to the sky. The woodcutter had no way to return; the maidens no longer even sent the bucket down anymore. From then until the day that he died, the woodcutter looked up at the sky in search of his wife and two kids. After his death, the woodcutter became a rooster, and that is why we now see the rooster look up at the sky and cry “Cuckaeioooo, cuckaeiooo.”

The woodcutter spills hot porridge on the winged horse

 

The woodcutter's soul as a rooster

 

            “The Heavenly Maiden and the Woodcutter” has many elements expected of a fairytale. Animals are personified and humans can travel between the earth and heavens, indicative of a mystical world that is typical of the fairytale setting. The story is, however, quite sad and moving at the end, as the heavenly maiden and the woodcutter never reunite and neither are truly happy. The sadness and bittersweet nature of the tale (because, in the end, the couple’s separation was cemented by an accident) seems somewhat unconventional for a children’s story, but perhaps this is only because so many western children consume sanitized versions of children’s stories.
             A number of interesting observation can be made from the tale. For one, it is clear Korean culture places importance on the lunar cycle; much of the tale’s pivotal moments revolve around actions the occur on the full moon. Additionally, the spirituality and wisdom of the deer suggests little invincibility and superiority, if any at all, attributed to humans. Furthermore, the maternal connection between a mother and child is clear and strong―the informant spoke of the heavenly maiden leaving with her children despite her Earth-bound husband quite neutrally, as if the reasoning behind this is natural and understandable. Lastly, the ending of the story is akin to that of a myth, because the tale not only tells a story but also explains why something has come to be the way this it is in the world today.

“Malian Folk-Saying”

            The informant was born and raised in Bamako, Mali until the age of ten, when she and her family moved to the San Francisco area. Half-French and half-Malian, the informant has lived a diverse life full of unique and varied cultural activities. She visits both Paris and Bamako during vacations and maintains a strong connection with family in both countries. She is fluent in English, French, and Bambara, which is the primary language spoken in Mali and part of the West African Mande language family. Related dialects are spoken in Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast, similar enough so that the informant felt confident that people living in those countries would understand the saying.

            She heard the folk-saying as she was growing up, and she mentioned her father uses it quite often; it is a common saying both in her family and among Malians collectively. However, she did state that older generations often say it to younger folk as a caution or warning. After speaking more with her father, the informant also learned that African, and especially Malian, proverbs and sayings are typically very visual and as she said, “paint a picture about the person.” Indeed, the detail in imagery is evident in both sayings collected from the informant.

 

            “A dgelly mandi” is an expression in Bambara that literally translates to “her blood is not good,”  but basically it means “there’s something I don’t like about him/her” or “that person rubs me the wrong way.” You know how some people just have faces that aren’t nice-people faces? Not that they can’t be good looking, just that they look shady, or that something doesn’t seem right about them. Well that’s what that means. My dad says it as a warning sometimes when talking to his business partners about people that he’s met with, and, oh my god, you should hear my grandma in Mali. She is one of the biggest gossipers in our hometown and this is definitely a phrase that gossipers use. Most of the time they’re women, sometimes older women say it to younger girls, but even, like, high school girls might say it to each other when they’re ragging on a boy or don’t think he’s a good guy.

 

            It is a struggle to find an English equivalent to “a dgelly mandi” because there is no phrase quite as succinct or punchy. The folk-saying is very much spiritual in nature in the sense that there is an intangible quality―and energy, perhaps―that exudes negativity from the individual. Logic and reason don’t find a place in this folk-saying, as it relies more on intuitive feeling. It seems natural, then to think that perhaps Malians place significant importance on first impressions; looking or coming off negatively may be a difficult hurdle to overcome if Malians have even developed a saying for it. It is interesting to consider whether people who are deemed “a dgelly mandi” have a more difficult time creating friendships or relationships, how subjective the use of the phrase is. For instance, are there certain physical characteristics that are more likely to look “a dgelly mandi” (for instance, unusually dark eyes or upturned, sneer-like lips)? Because the informant stated that the phrase is often thrown around gossip circles, it would be curious to examine whether one person’s use of the phrase affects another’s perception of the individual in question, or whether it is brushed off as merely an opinion. In the case that older folk are saying it to younger generations for cautionary purposes, however, it is likely given much more gravity than amongst similarly-aged gossipers.

             The fact that the literal translation is structured in the feminine form could suggest a link between blood and the female through the menstrual cycle. Perhaps the “not good blood” in the translation originally referred to child-birthing difficulties or miscarriages that had negatively branded women in the neighborhood.  

“Post-Race Ritual”

            The informant rowed for the University of California, Berkeley’s lightweight crew team for four years before graduating. He rowed in numerous regattas throughout his athletic career in college, and describes a ritual that he observed―and practiced―at the end of every race. The informant continues rowing recreationally and recounted the practice of the ritual in his apartment, where he had just returned from an early morning row out in the Oakland estuary.

 

            After a race, if you lose, you are traditionally supposed to remove the tank top that you wore during the race and give it to the winning crew. Why do we do it? It is almost like you’re paying tribute to the winning crew. In most crew races you don’t receive a medal, so it’s almost like the honorable thing to do if you lose is to give something of yours to the winners. It’s a very long-standing tradition. I learned very quickly after I lost my first race. I just observed some of the older varsity members take off their tanks―well, traditionally the practice began with taking the actual tank off of your back. That’s kind of gross in a lot of ways because you’re sweaty and it’s a bit nasty so what most people end up doing is bringing extra tanks to any given regatta so we can hand out fresh tanks if we lose. You go over to the opposing crew and you meet the guy who sits in your seat. So, let’s say if I was in the bow, then I would go up to the bow seat in the winning crew. I would introduce myself, make a little awkward small talk, and then hand my tank to him. The winners might collect a lot of tanks depending and how many boats were in the race. Some boats don’t abide by this tradition, but then they’re considered as assholes.

 

            The collection of the informant’s story immediately following his morning practice is of particular importance because of the informant’s demeanor during his retelling. He spoke softly and his eyes looked distant, as if he were recalling the memories of former races with nostalgia. This suggests that, despite the fact that the informant surrendered many of his own tanks to opposing crews, the ritual itself was more important as it functions as an integral part of the rower’s experience. Similar practices are seen in other sports―notably, soccer―but not perhaps as formalized as the ritual the informant describes.

            It is also interesting to note that the ritual has adapted over the years and teams now bring a fresh set of tanks to the regatta, raising the issue that hygiene has perhaps taken precedence over the value of the losing rowers’ hard work manifested in his sweaty tank. In this case, it seems the act of surrendering the tank may now be more significant than the tank itself as a symbol.