It is that time of year again when scary ghosts, zombies, vampires and witches compete with beautiful princesses, heroic characters of modern lore and cute whimsical creatures lifted from the pages of comic books for treats and praise ― it is, of course, Halloween.
Halloween in Korea is generally believed to be a recently introduced event ― perhaps as recent as the 1980s when it first became possible for the average Korean to travel abroad for pleasure. There were, of course, exceptions. Halloween parties were often held on American military installations and were generally confined to military personnel and their families. There were, however, even earlier Halloween parties ― the participants were Americans but they were not military personnel ― they were missionaries and their families.
On Oct. 31, 1908, Ethel Mills, a missionary, groused that it was “Halloween night and nothing to do in Korea.” She concluded that “evidently they [it isn’t clear if she was talking about her fellow missionaries or her Korean neighbors] have not all the barbarian ideas in vogue.” Almost, in a backhanded way, she expressed appreciation that she was not stationed in Pyongyang for the winter. But if it was Halloween she desired, then Pyongyang was the place to be.
In 1913, the missionaries in Pyongyang held a large Halloween party to which all the children of the community were invited. It was a festive event. One adult participant recalled:
“We got the cookies and chestnuts and popcorn and pumpkin lights all ready. Someone sent a lot of ice cream and someone else a great bowl of marshmallows which we toasted from the end on long sticks.”
A hauntingly beautiful Christmas card from the 1930s Robert Neff CollectionSamuel Austin Moffett, “the leading missionary of the station and a fine strong man,” was definitely the star attraction at the spooky event. Wanting to entertain and mystify his two sons ― James (8) and Charles (5) ― as well as the other children, he dressed up as a witch “and told fortunes to perfection.”
"A landmark of exorcism," circa early 1900s Courtesy of Diane Nars CollectionI want to believe Korean children ― members of the congregation ― were also invited to this spooky fest and it is a shame that we do not have their impressions of this quaint tradition of chasing away malevolent spirits with scary masks and jack-o-lanterns.
Considering young Joseon boys made lanterns out of turnips and radishes in the late autumn, I imagine jack-o-lanterns would not have impressed the Korean children. I am, however, still surprised that many years ago I was visited one night by the local police who wanted an explanation as to why I had a jack-o-lantern in front of my door. Apparently my elderly neighbor ― who had a tendency to wander around at night and benignly look into windows ― was startled by my pitiful jack-o-lantern (it was a very small pumpkin) and reported it to the police; she believed it was a goblin.
I am not sure what Halloween games the missionary children played in Pyongyang but their Korean peers could have probably taught them a few.
According to Stewart Culin, a 19th-century expert on games, there was a game Korean children placed called “searching for the corpse.” While the name may have sounded ominous and morbid, it was rather benign. The ‘seeker’ was blindfolded and then his peers would hide a small object ― a stone or small trinket ― under the mats, behind a piece of furniture or in a hole in the ground. Once the item was hidden, the seeker would then ask, “Did you bury it?” When he received an affirmative answer, he would begin to search for it.
"The general of the lower earth and his spouse," circa 1910 Robert Neff CollectionYoung men are prone to heroic acts when alcohol is involved and it wasn’t uncommon in the past, as in the present, for a teen to be coerced by peer pressure to prove his bravery. Muriel Morris, the daughter of a missionary living in Wonju in the early 1920s, recalled:
“Koreans were really afraid to come up to our yard at night because they figured it was haunted, having formerly been a cemetery. So one night a bunch of young blades were out on the town drinking and they dared this fellow to go up there and pound a stake in the ground to let the devils out. And he did. When he tried to leave, he could not move ― something was gripping him. He fainted, he was so scared. The next morning when his friends went up to see what had happened to him, they found him there lying on the ground. He had pounded the stake right through his long coat.”
It was in Wonju, many many years ago when I was a young soldier, that I heard my first tales of Korean ghosts. The tale that horrified me the most did not involve supernatural entities but pitiful mortals desperate for a cure. One day, my friend’s grandmother gave me a small packet of powdered chili peppers and told me to keep it with me at all times. My friend explained patiently ― he did not speak much English and I spoke very little Korean ― that his grandmother thought I was a good-looking boy and she worried about me walking too close to the cornfields. In the past, people suffering from leprosy (Hansen’s disease) sometimes were driven out of desperation to abduct small children and kill them so that they could eat their livers in the mistaken belief it would cure their disease. Corn fields were ideal locations for these acts. The powdered chili pepper was to be thrown into the eyes of my would-be killer.
In the past, cats had a rather dark role in Korean society. Cats were sometimes horribly killed in order to make health tonics. According to one folklorist, they could also be used to fight crime:
“A thief will become crippled if his footprint is stabbed with a knife. A criminal will die if a cat is boiled inside a cauldron. A criminal will become blind if the eye of a snail is pricked with a needle.”
But cats were also feared ― if a cat ran into the heating flues it meant that someone ― presumably within the house, would soon die. Cats could even torment the dead. According to Edward Morse, who conducted interviews with Koreans while living in Japan in the 1880s:
“Among the Korean superstitions are a dislike to have a cat approach a dead person. If such an accident happens the corpse will stand upright and the body had to be knocked down with a broom.”
The long path home, circa 1930s Robert Neff CollectionIt is easy to dismiss this as a simple superstition of the past, but there are some who believe in its veracity. In 1991, a young university student (who shall remain anonymous) wrote about one of his father’s experiences with a cat and the dead. The incident took place in 1943 when his father was a 19-year-old serving in Manchuria with the Japanese army.
“[My father] was forced to work as a civilian employee in some Japanese Infantry unit. Many soldiers were killed as a result of frequent conflicts with Chinese and Korean ranger units. And he was expected to attend the funerals and sing military songs for the “glorious” deaths of imperial Japanese Army soldiers. During the play at one of these funerals, he saw a black cat running around the coffin and then suddenly the coffin stood up by itself. One of the lieutenants in his unit shot the cat to death and then the coffin immediately collapsed back to the ground. Everyone there was terrified and two privates passed out.”
So, tonight, when you are out and about and celebrating an early Halloween, remember that an American missionary named George Heber Jones once described Korea as the most haunted place on Earth ― filled with demons and ghosts. According to him:
“They haunt every umbrageous tree, shady ravine, spring and mountain crest. On green hill slopes, in peaceful agricultural valleys, in grassy dells, on wooded uplands, by lake and stream, by road and river, in north, south, east, and west they abound, making malignant sport out of human destinies. They are on every roof, ceiling, oven and beam. They fill the chimney, shed, the living room, the kitchen, they are on every shelf and jar. In thousands they waylay the traveler as he leaves his home, beside him, behind him, dancing in front of him, whirring over his head, crying out upon him from air, earth, and water. They are numbered by thousands of billions, and it has been well said that their ubiquity is an unholy travesty of Divine Omnipresence.”
Be safe ― carry some powdered chili pepper ― and have a great Halloween.
