Have Some More!

Tang Soo Do - Korea.  Spring of 1986.  Bear is on the left, Michael on the right,
and Ku Hong-Gyu is center, in the air!



When I was living in Korea, I was a student of Tang Soo Do Moo Duk Gwan (Soo Bahk Do), which is a Korean form of Karate-Do. My instructor's name was Ku Hong-Gyu. Mr. Ku was a wonderful man. He had a kind, gentle soul, and a quick warm sense of humor. I imagine that his calmness and wit were in great part owing to his years of Son (Zen) training.

After I had been there for some time, it eventually became clear that Michael (my friend and training partner) and I were at that time the two highest ranking foreign Tang Soo Do students in the Korea at that time. This didn't amount to very much, except for the fact that the Korean people seemed to love having 'Yang-Nomes' (Foreign Idiots) sitting on the rank testing boards in the various martial arts dojangs (Do= Way, Jang= Hall, Building) throughout the country, and we would often be asked to attend the rank test as judges and officials.

We actually had little or no say or power while doing this, but we basically would be expected to watch attentively, nod and smile when it was appropriate, and hand out the certificates and belts to the recently promoted students during the ceremony.

The fact that we were Americans was apparently enough to make everybody suitably happy (things have apparently changed in Korea quite a bit since then, from what I hear and read) It was somewhat interesting sitting on the testing boards.

Korean students are very conscientious, and take their training very seriously. I suspect that they wanted to make a good impression on us foreigners as well.

Although we enjoyed doing this (sitting on the testing boards), after some time, we both began to dread it; the days were very long, and, to be honest, were fairly tedious, since we watched group after group doing exactly the same things over and over. With very few exceptions, they were just about flawless. It was much harder than one would expect to remain attentive throughout the day, and to appear as fresh and as interested with the last group as we did with the first. After all, they were testing for a higher rank, they were most likely nervous, and the least we could do is to pay attention and be interested in thier efforts.

Despite our best efforts to feel differently about it, we both began to wish that we hadn't gotten involved at all, but couldn't refuse without seeming rude and losing a great deal of face both for ouselves, and for our instructor, Mr. Ku, who we both loved. So, when they asked us, we went. As happily as possible. The upside is that we met a great number of wonderful people, fantastic martial artists, and were able to see a side of korea that most foreigners never see. It was worth it. It was a one million-two million situation. Wouldn't take a million dollars for it... wouldn't do it again for two million!!

So, each weekend, for a number of months, we would be at one dojang or another, sitting on the testing board.

One the way to one promotional exam, Michael inadvertently backed his vehicle through the wall of a Korean house. The resulting hole was approximately five or six feet wide, and just about as high.

We could see an old woman sitting inside watching television. She didn't seem particularly upset at the interruption.

Micheal began sweating bullets, expecting at any moment to be arrested and incarcerated or attacked by an angry crowd.

As we stood there, looking like jerks in our white Tang Soo Do uniforms (we had changed at one Dojang, and were on our way to another at the time... the problem arose when Micheal had taken a wrong turn and attempted to make a three point turn while driving a vehicle with a manual transmission on a relatively steep hill) a Korean man, who turned out to be the owner of the house, slowly made his way through the growing crowd of onlookers and surveyed the damage to his house. He asked Michael what had happened, in Korean... which only got him a blank, somewhat panicked look in return since Micheal didn't speak a word of Korean. Michael shook his head helplessly, and looked at me with such an expression of terror and panic in his eyes that I took pity on him and stepped forward to translate for him. I explained, as politely as I could, what had happened, and he stood there... scratching his head, and staring at the new garage door we had so considerately installed in the side of his house.

Just about that time, a vehicle pulled up (apparently, they had finally realized that we were no longer following them, and had turned around and retraced their route in order to find us.. luckily for us!), and Mr. Ku, along with about four other senior Tang Soo Do instructors got out, immediately intuiting what had happened (I personally think the gaping hole in the house and Michael's car protruding from it may have tipped them off slightly). They entered into a somewhat convoluted discussion with the owner of the house and with a number of bystander who had apparently decided, at that time, to be especially helpful and offer their own insights regarding the situation. On and on they talked, argued, yelled, and debated, replete with pointing, pulling of clothes, waving of arms, and much hissing and snorting. Neither Micheal nor I at this time could postulate where any of this was going, but we felt that it was most likely not someplace either of us hoped to go....

Suddenly, Mr. Ku informed the owner of the house that we were in fact high ranking foreign ambassadors who were on their way to sit on a promotional testing board at the local Tang Soo Do Dojang, and that it would be very embarassing if we were to be detained much longer and arrived late or missed the promotion test entirely.
The onlookers all agreed that this would be a very unfortunate occurrence, and one of them, who was, apparently, a builder, agreed to repair the damage, using whatever he could salvage from the wreckage, and whatever else he had on hand. (He thought that he most likely had everything that was needed). Once this course of action was voted on by everyone present, and found to be acceptable, two little old Halmonis (Grandmothers), with faces like little brown wrinkled apples, presented Mike and I each with a string bag full of fruit, and we all piled back into our respective vehicles amidst much smiling, waving, and bowing, and were on our way.

After the promotion exam was concluded we were both invited to Mr. Ku's house for a visit. We were all seated on the floor around a low table. On the table was a bowl of hardboiled eggs; all types of eggs, chicken, goose, duck, quail, and numerous other eggs that I couldn't identify. There was also a mylar bag containing a thick soy milk. Mr. Ku served each of us a portion, and with a huge smile, set to and began eating his portion of eggs, and drinking his glass of soy milk.

I tasted the eggs, which were slightly different than I was used to, but edible, and then I tasted the soy milk product... or whatever it was. It was absolutely vile. It had the consistency of thick liquified latex rubber, and tasted like linoleum, furniture polish, kaopectate, and sour milk. With a twist of lemon. It was really bad.

Michael took one taste, made a disgusted face, and turned to me (I was the default translator, as Mr. Ku spoke no english, and Mike spoke no korean), saying, in his usual diplomatic fashion, "This is disgusting. I can't drink this shit. It's going to make me puke. I hate it. And I hate eggs."

I was horrified, and hissed at him in reply, "You HAVE to eat it! If we don't eat what they have offered, we will insult the hell out of them. They'll lose face. Just choke it down!!"

He replied, "No! I'm not eating it. It's horrible. Tell him to give us something else."

If possible, I was even more horrifed at his lack of sensitivity than I was originally! I said, "I'm am NOT going to tell him any such thing!!" Then, feeling thouroughly self-satisfied and spiteful I stubbornly folded my arms and continued, "If you want to tell him something, tell him your damned-self!"

He stared at me for a few seconds. His blue scotsman's eyes blazing at me. Then, finding some peace within himself over the situation, he said, "Fine. I will!"

I said, "Go ahead!"

To my shock and dismay, Micheal turned to Mr. Ku, who was by now obviously interested in the exchange that had taken place between us, and said, with a combination of very slow english, broken korean, and pantomime, "Mr. Ku [indicating the food, and making a smelly-disgusted face, then pointing to himself], I don't like this food. American people and Korean people.... different. I'm sorry." He finished this with a fairly acceptable bow.

I held my breath.

Mr. Ku looked from Mike, to me, to the food, and back to Micheal. He rubbed his nose, looking puzzled for a few seconds, then, understanding apparently striking all at once, broke into a huge grin, nodding vigorously, he policed up the glass and plate from in front of Michael, asked me in korean if I also hated the food and drink and politely waited for my reply, glass and bowl in hand.

I glanced angrily at Michael for a second. He simply stared back at me stubbornly, obviously feeling that he was the cat's ass. I considered slapping his mouth for him, remembered that Mr. Ku was still waiting for me to answer him, and, gathering my somewhat disjointed thoughts, I quickly muttered something about how much I enjoyed everything, and that it was just fine, and thank you very much.

Mr. Ku stared at me for a second or two, his face unreadable, then he said, "Very well, then why don't you finish Mr. Micheal's portion as well, since you enjoy it so much?". I got a huge Mr. Ku smile. A plateful of various eggs of indeterminate origin, and a full glass of soy-glop. Great.

Mr. Ku was on his feet, out the door, and back in two minutes with a large bowl of fruit. He put a plate in front of Mike, a plate in front of himself, and proceeded to cut up the fruit and divide it between Michael and himself. I reached for a piece of melon, but Mr. Ku moved the plate out of my reach and reminded me that I had two whole bowls of eggs and two large glasses of sludge to drink. I looked at Mike who gave me a decidedly grinch-like grin, and I returned the courtesy with a glare that should have burned the hairs out of his nostrils. He remained placid and unperturbed by my animosity, and, conversely, seemed very satisfied with my awkward predicament.

I don't remember much about the remainder of that evening, other than my continued struggle to gag down as much of the eggs and soy milk as I could stand.

The following weekend, when we arrived at Mr. Ku's house, there was a huge spread of delicious looking korean food for everyone... except me. In my place was a large bowl of assorted eggs, (hardboiled), and a quart-sized mylar bag of my very favorite; soy milk. Joy. I was fucked. I managed to eat and drink most of it, while everyone else was forced to eat delicious korean food. Micheal ribbed me unmercilessly the entire night, and finally, while we were on the way home, asked me why I didn't just explain to Mr. Ku that I didn't like the eggs and soy milk, and would prefer something else. I protested that I couldn't possibly do that now, that Mr. Ku would be insulted, etc., etc. Mike, looking very smug, said, "Suit Yourself", and split off to head to his apartment. I felt mildly nauseated, and slowly walked home.. feeling thouroughly miserable.

When the weekend came, it was the same drill, only worse, if that's possible!! There was a huge (HUGE!) bowl of eggs... perhaps two dozen, and a gallon sized mylar bag of soymilk in a friggin' box!! Everyone else had their choice of all sorts of food to choose from.

Mr. Ku, with his face almost split in two by his smile, indicated the eggs and soy milk, and said, "Since we know you love this so much, we got this especially for you!" He looked very proud of himself.

I looked from his face, to his wife's face, over to Mike, down at the mountain of eggs and soy slop that I just knew I couldn't finish.... (I suspected that the first taste would make me puke if I tried to eat or drink any of it), back to Mr. Ku (His smile got even bigger.. he looked like he was attempting to turn his head inside out), back at the soy milk and eggs, and down at my hands which were nervously fidgeting in my lap. I looked at the rest of the food spread out at the table, and finally back at Mr. Ku. Happily, his smile had returned to the normal blinding one and was much less disturbing than the rictus grin of a few moments ago... I felt my throat get tight and my face get hot with shame, and I managed to explain that in truth, I didn't like either the eggs or the soy milk, and that I was very sorry for lying, and that I had only been trying not to hurt his feelings, and that I would much rather eat some of that!! (Miserably indicating the spread of food laid out on the table). I was absolutely mortified, and I just knew that Mr. Ku was going to be crushed by this revelation, and that he would be terribly disappointed by my duplicity.

Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him, and laughed. Smiling, he asked, "Why didn't you just explain that to begin with?? I could tell that you hated that stuff all along! It would have been so much easier in the long run..."

I stared at him in numbed, shocked silence for a few moments... stole a glance at Mike, who no business understanding what was going on, but did anyway.... and sputtered, "You.... .... Knew?!"

"Of course!" Mr. Ku replied, gleefully.

"But... why.... ... ??" I began..

Mr. Ku suddenly looked very calm, and very kind. With a small trace of a smile on his face, he begain, in a soft voice, "The only reason I would offer food to you is because I want you to feel welcome, and to be happy and content. It doesn't matter to me what food, it only matters that you enjoy it. If you had explained to me, as Mr. Michael did, that you didn't care for this type of food or drink, I would have offered you something else."

I considered this for a few moments, then, poking at what I thought was an obvious hole in his logic, said, "But if you knew I didn't like it, why didn't you offer me something different??"

He smiled then, and said, "Well, you went out of your way to let me know that you couldn't trust me to be understanding, or to accept you as you are. You held on to these beliefs with such tenacity, I simply couldn't bring myself to upset you by disrupting your perception of reality. I thought it would be better to let you learn in your own way. Would you like a little more soy milk?"

The laughter lasted until very, very late that night.