Tag Archives: ghost

Korean Red Bean Stew

Nationality: Korean
Age: 49
Occupation: Counselor
Performance Date: 4/21/22
Primary Language: Korean
Language: English

This is a retelling of the tradition of eating red bean porridge on the winter solstice, told to me by my mother.

“한국에서는 동지날(12월 22일) 팥죽을 먹었다. 왜냐하면 빨간색의 팥죽을 먹으면 귀신이 무서워서 도망간다”

Romanization:

han-gook-eh-suh-neun dong-jee-nar (sheeb-ee-wur ee-sheeb-ee-ear) pat-jook-eur mug-ut-dah. whey-nya-ha-myun bbar-gan-sek-eh pat-jook-eur mug-eu-myun gwee-shin-ee moo-suh-wuh-suh do-mang-gan-da

Transliteration:

In Korea, the winter solstice red bean stew we ate. Because the red, red bean porridge if you eat ghosts become scared and run away.

Translation:

In Korea, we ate red bean stew on the Winter Solstice. We ate it because ghosts became scared of the redness of the red bean porridge and fled.

For as long as I could remember, eating red bean porridge on the Winter Solstice has been a family tradition. Our ancestors ate red bean porridge on the Winter Solstice because they believed the red beans had the power to chase away evil spirits. The color of the red bean was believed to symbolize positive energy or ‘yang’ and thus was effective in thwarting dark energy or ‘yin.’ This was especially important during the Winter Solstice since the long night and scarce daylight was thought to contribute to lots of dark energy. Eating the porridge by itself is tasty, but knowing the folklore and traditions behind the meal make it even more delicious.

“Peeking Heads” Ghost Story

Main Piece:

AL: This was back at my old house where I lived in. A duplex, essentially. And it was night time, and it was probably around midnight to like 1 or 2 which is I guess late for me as a child.

Me: How old were you do you think?

AL: Uhm… I think I was in like fifth or sixth grade. And I was still afraid of the dark, and so I slept with like a night light… And my room was… [across the hall] from my parents room… Connected through a hallway, a very short hallway, and both [our] doors were open. And it was dark. It was late. My parents were asleep. I was asleep. My brother slept in my parents’ room, and so… I just woke up… and I was really tired but I was peeking out at the door, and I thought I saw my brother. I assumed that this person was my brother—who had their head sticking out of the door.

Me: *in disgust* Ahhhhh!…

AL: But It was so dark because they had no light [on]… And so I was kinda like shocked, but… it was understandable in my head… I called out my brother’s name like “Jonathan!” (Silence.) “J- jonathan! W- what? Hello?” And they would just stare back at me. It’s like where—in cartoons—you would see the silhouette of their hand peeking sideways? And I would see like a hand, waving, and I was like “Jonathan! It’s late!”

Me: *laughing* Like “What the hell is this, Jonathan?!”

AL: And I kept at it. And they would not go away…. They stopped waving, and I was like “Okay, okay. Good night!” And so I would roll over and try to fall back asleep… And then I’m assuming like 10 minutes passed… I roll over again, and they’re still there with like another person. And I’m like “Mom! Hello?” *laughs* But all I could hear was my dad snoring. And so I kinda just gave up on them, and then I eventually fell asleep. And then, the next morning, I talked to them, and I was like “What were you doing? looking out the door at me?” …I spoke this to my brother first….

He was like “Huh? What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”

AL: I was like “No, you did. You had your head out and your hand and everything… Do you not remember? Are you dumb or something?”

And he was like “No, I was sleeping!”

I was like “Mom, do you remember? You were doing the same thing.”

Mom: “Huh? No!”

AL: “What do you- what do you mean?”

Mom: “What did you see?”

I was like “You and Jonathan were like literally… Staring at me and waving… You don’t remember anything?”

Mom: “No.”

I was like “Oh… Who were they then?” (jokingly) Hello? *laughs*

Me: *laughs* So, what was their initial reaction to it? Did they not believe you?

AL: They were kinda, like, laughing at me for thinking these things— rather than like believing, which I would also understand…

Me: So, did it scare you? In retrospect? Or in the moment?

AL: In the moment, it did not freak me out… Just like really tired… It could be just my tiredness and just like hallucinating. Do you know like when its dark and you see like grains [in your eyes]?…

Me: Yeah!

AL: It could just be that… Or actual people. Who knows?

Context:

An interview I had with my roommate in the Cale & Irani Apartments at USC Village late night, with the lights out to set the mood. He is of Vietnamese descent. His younger brother, Jonathan, was five to six years old at the time.

Analysis:

I love ghost stories, especially the way in which people perform them. This is a piece of self-proclaimed folklore, and his family still laughs about it till this day. He has disclosed to me that he was deathly afraid of the dark as child, but has since grew out of it. This experience was more confusing to him than anything. Children are often associated with ghosts or spirits because they are more ‘innocent,’ and therefore can see the paranormal easier. However, they are seen as more naive, so this lends itself as to why no one believed him. Perhaps, if he were to say this today, his family would. This brings into questions the credibility of folklore and personal narratives. Is folklore just as valid when it comes from children, themselves?

Boots

Context: C.O. learned about this story on a ghost tour in Old Williamsburg, Virginia.

C.O. : And then the ghost story I heard when I was, oh gosh, eleven?
P.Z. : Eleven?
C.O. : And I was in Old Williamsburg in, just outside DC.
P.Z. : Okay
C.O. : On a trip with my parents and we went on a walking ghost tour of the town, uh, at night and one of the stories they told us outside the old inn was about two sisters who I guess back in the early eighteen hundreds were staying there and it was late at night they were asleep in their beds and one of the sisters woke up because she heard something outside the window
P.Z. : Okay
C.O. : That sounded like bootprints, or footprints. Or, I can’t, footprints. Boot noises. And she went to go look at the window, pulled back the curtains and there was nothing there so she went back to bed
P.Z. : Okay
C.O. : And then she heard it again so he went back to the window, opened the window, looked outside the window, still can’t see anything, asked your sister if she heard it, she didn’t, so both of them went back to bed. And then about five minutes later she heard the, the bootstomps outside her door. And there was light but she couldn’t see any shadows, so she opens the door and nobody’s out there. So now she’s freaking out. She doesn’t know where the noise is coming from, if someone’s messing with her so she goes back to bed. And then a little whiles later, maybe about an hour, she hears the bootprints or footprints even closer. In the room. So she throws the light on, there’s nobody standing there, so she goes to sleep again, turns the light out and like not 10 seconds later she starts feeling someone pushing up on the side of her bed for her feet
P.Z. : Ohh
C.O. : Slowly pushing up. And she feels like the indentation of someone sitting like right next to her head on her bed and she freaks out turns the light on and there’s nobody there
P.Z. : No, I hate that
C.O. : And that is the last time it happens that night and that’s the end of the story. And they called it Boots. And that scared the shit out of me as a kid, I didn’t sleep for two days
P.Z. : Oh yeah I can imagine that
C.O. : But the kicker is like a week later when we got home and I was in my bedroom, going to sleep. And I felt the same thing on my bed like at the foot of my bed as if someone had sat on the edge of it and I turned the light on and there was nothing there. My cat wasn’t in the room, my pillow didn’t fall off my bed, my parents and my brother were both asleep, and it was just, and my door was closed, and it was the weirdest feeling and it was just too much of a coincidence for me.
P.Z. : I hate that
C.O. : Yeah. So that’s my one ghost story.

Thoughts: This seemed a fairly standard ghost story or legend. I’ve heard many ghost stories that similarly focus on past tragedies, colonial-era ghosts, and unexplained footsteps. I thought that the truly interesting part of this story was the personal story. As a child, I also would be terrified by these sort of stories that people told me, so I understood the concept. I thought that it was interesting to hear the first hand experience of an otherwise general story.

Elfin Forest Ghost

Context: The respondent was told this story by her mother, who had supposedly encountered the ghost while driving along the road to Elfin Forest (San Diego, California).

M.A. : Oh, you know, my mom, actually I do have one that my mom told me. Like a real one, you know?
P.Z. : Yeah, pop off.
M.A. : It’s in Elfin Forest, ghost. I don’t know too much, but I know it is a lady and she uh walks around, always a white dress, she always walks around the Elfin Forest road, um, in a white dress. I guess she just haunts that area. I don’t know her history, but I know my mom told me she saw her once.
P.Z. : The road, is it like a, a foot path, is it a street?
M.A. : I believe it’s a street. Yeah, the road that you drive to get to, the little like swervy one.
P.Z. : Okay I’ve never like been up that way, I just know of it.
M.A. : Yeah, it’s it’s like a little swervy road, kind of isolated. And the lady walks around it, I heard. Yeah. And I think also the ghost has been seen on the trail as well, like on the path.
P.Z. : Um, woman in white, just wandering Elfin Forest. Sounds soothing.
M.A. : Yeah, it’s like a whole thing that Elfin Forest is haunted.
P.Z. : Did, your mom just saw her? Did she get attacked, or —
M.A. : No yeah she just saw her. And then she like turned around and drove the other way.

Thoughts: Elfin Forest is a picturesque trail area in northeast San Diego. I’ve had many friends visit this place for photos or day trips, but I had never heard of this particular ghost. It seems fairly traditional, a woman in white haunting some area, but there were not extensive details on the origin of this ghost story.

Donkey Lady Bridge

Context: Donkey Lady Bridge is located on the east side of San Antonio, and is a popular story amongst children that often becomes an inspiration for dares. The bridge passes over a creek.

G.G. : So, my story, it like comes from San Antonio, where I live. It’s basically um it started in the like the 1800s, some people say 1900s, like 1950s, but a lot of town folk say it’s like 1800. Basically, um, a farming family lived outside of San Antonio back then which is now on the east side of San Antonio.
P.Z. : Alright, so older, it was more spread out.
G.G. : Yeah. So like basically the farmer set fire to his home, murdered his children and left his wife horribly disfigured. And so and the wife, she survived, but her fingers were melted down to stumps creating hoof-like appendages, leaving the skin on her face charred and gave her an elongated, donkey-like appearance. And so, grieving the loss of her children and betrayal of her husband, she haunts Elm Creek and those who try to cross ‘cause like there’s a bridge. So that’s why we call it Donkey Lady Bridge.
P.Z. : Okay so it’s like a particular bridge in your hometown?
G.G. : Yeah I actually took my sister out to it.
P.Z. : Is there like, are there supposed to be noises when you’re here? Are you supposed to see something…?
G.G. : Uh okay uh, okay so —
P.Z. : Or is it just, sort of like, you said you brought your sister there..?
G.G. : Like, you’re supposed to hear her, you know? And I feel like I heard a different story of it like the story that i heard whenever I was like a kid. And like everyone hears it because it’s like it’s from our town. And so it was kind of like um, it was kind of like this love affair and the family, I guess the man tried to get rid of his family by setting the house on fire or something like that…
P.Z. : Some sort of affair —
G.G. : Yeah and so that’s why he killed his whole family but then like she obviously came back and like haunted him and she killed him and stuff. And um oh there’s also this, no, no I’m getting that confused with something else. Anyway yeah so now she like kind of protects that area by Donkey Lady Bridge. She doesn’t want anyone coming onto her land because that’s like where her children and her house was, you know? She doesn’t want any of the other farmers because I guess he was a big man in the community so that’s why she haunts that area, guards that area. So Donkey Lady Bridge, you’re supposed to go there and park. And then she’s also because there was also something about her that she ran out and drowned in the river too. That was another story of her and so like you’re really supposed to go out on a rainy night and then um park your car at the bridge and you’re supposed to hear her, just hear donkey noises, hear like the hooves or something, you know or something that’s just there. And that’s pretty much it, I don’t think there’s ever been any reported sightings or anything like that.

Thoughts: I grew up in a fairly urban area, so to hear of a story relating to a specific creek or bridge was a new experience. I thought that it was interesting that just one storyteller could personally recall multiple versions of a singular legend. Also, it was interesting that this has become a sort of story to bond the community, like when she mentioned that she brought her sister to the bridge to show her where the popular urban legend took place.