Korea by Mimi Scharffenberg

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 6, 1907

Korea

By Mimi Scharffenberg

MIMI SCHARFFENBERG

The trip from America to Japan was a very pleasant one. From Japan we went across the Korean Strait on a Japanese boat. In the hallway of the ship we had to take off our shoes. Many sleep in one room, on the floor.

Landing in Fusan, Korea, we took the train to Sunan. But in this country trains run only during the day, and at night we had various experiences in getting a lodging.

This is a very hilly country, and it seemed strange at first to see the long rows of people, dressed in white, coming down the hills, and finally to find ourselves right among them. It is the custom for both men and women to dress in white.

As soon as we reached Sunan, the Koreans came in great numbers to visit us. Elder Smith and wife and myself are the only foreigners in this city. The natives will not knock at the door, but open it, and walk right in, and seemingly do as if they were at home. The women almost always go out visiting in bands. From ten to thirty have come here at one time. They usually have a routine of questions to ask, such as, “What is your name?” “How old are you?” “Have you an elder brother?” and other questions similar to these. They will not ask about sisters, for girls are of no account.

Our home is on a hill, away from the impure air. It is a pleasant location. From here we can see as many as twenty villages. These are different from those at home. The houses are very close together. A village may not take in any more room than one of our large camp-meeting grounds at home, and still have a population of from one thousand to fifteen hundred. The houses are built of clay, are about eight feet high, and have straw-covered roofs. They usually have a small kitchen and two other rooms, each room eight feet square. Churches, post-office, and other buildings can not be distinguished from the dwellings or from one another.

We have a very nice little company of believers in Sunan. The first meeting I attended seemed strange. The men enter through one door, the women by another. All take off their shoes before entering, and are seated on the floor. The men keep on their hats. We women can not see the speaker, because a curtain is drawn in front of us. According to the custom of this country, women are not allowed to be in the same room with the men. They have been kept down in every way, and there is great need of workers to labor among them.

Perhaps it would be interesting to know how I try to put into practise what I learn of the language. All I have to do is to go for a walk through the village. First the dogs begin to bark; every family has a dog. I soon found that if I turned around, they would run, and act as if they were afraid of a foreigner. Next, one will have several dozen children following, and often women. The latter will begin to ask questions. I answer what I know, and when I do not know, they go through various performances to try to make me understand. Several times I have been invited to come into their homes. After being seated—on the floor—they will try to find out what I have learned, and do their best to teach me something more. I enjoy this very much, for it gives me an opportunity to get acquainted with their customs little by little.

They all have black hair, and seemingly can not understand why mine is light. They wanted to know if it was my own; so one day I had to take it down for them to pull at, to satisfy them that it would not come off.

In their homes they have no kind of furniture. All I have seen is what we might call a trunk, in which they keep their clothes. The floors are covered with straw matting, on which they also sleep.

The more I am among them, the more I see their great need. I am very thankful that the Lord has sent me here, and my whole desire is that I may learn the language, so I shall be able to tell them of the love of Jesus, and the great and precious truths that have been committed to us. Since being here I have

thought that if our people at home could but see the conditions here, they would never feel like shirking their part in this work. None could or would wish to be idle.