Memoir #5

What am I

It was then when I had to move from a country in which I had been perfectly adapted to live, Indonesia, so strongly bonded that I was scared to move out to Korea. However, I had no choice but to do so. At the center of my brain, it was full of anxiety and pressure that I had to make new friends and start a new life all over again. And at the exact center, there was an inevitable question that led be to ask my identity: What am I?

When arrived in Korea, everything seemed to be not as bad as I thought. I felt the boiling Korean blood overwhelming my Indo-English blood, starting to find hints and answers to my internal question. 

At home, I spoke Korean with my mom and often spoke English with my dad and brother. and of course, my mom wasn't very supportive about that. "Can you please stop talking in English?" said my mom very grudgingly in her 'perfect' Korean. But knowing that this was the only sanctuary where I was given freedom of speech, I replied back in my 'imperfect Korean' "Sorry mommy, me feel better speak English". 

Despite my 'imperfect Korean' or even 'Korglish', she seldom reflected her annoyance and worry that I could be teased or segregated. Instead, she supported and encouraged my Korean. However, when she did, she often said "Kyu, you can't speak English outside; there will be almost no one that could understand you. You really need to work on your Korean.". But I did not know what it meant or believed it. 

On the first day of school, I was a man of up and down but still had not answered the inevitable question: What am I?

 As I first stepped into the classroom with the new teacher, she introduced me to rest of my battle troop. “Hello children, we have a new student today! His name is Kyuweon Beom and It has not been long since he came back from Indonesia. To be a good student, you know what to do.” 

This part was not too bad but what the subsequent sentence what choked me. “So Kyu, do you have anything to say to your new classmates” I knew I didn’t have to say anything but I also knew that this was an opportunity that I would never find again. 

“Anyoung haseyo” I said in my imperfect Korean

Everyone was giggling about my Korean even including the teacher.

“Why is you laughing to?” I said in a bit annoyed tone

Everyone giggled in even higher pitch. The inevitable question started to wander not only in my brain but in my boiling vein. And soon, the question started to echo unceasingly. "What am I, what am I, what am I” 

After that echo, nothing that my friends or teachers said was absorbed in me.

When I got back home, I told my mom the “humiliating” story of mine in my imperfect Korean. Unlike other people at school, she dived into a deep pool of thoughts and consideration as if she had done something not right. 

“Kyu, I think I made a huge mistake. I’m sorry” said my mom.

Not knowing why I asked my mom innocently staring her in my pure pupils “Why mom?”

My mom answered in such static tone, “In Korean, we have what’s called a ‘Polite form’. To elaborate, we use different expressions depending on who we are conversing with. For example, you don’t say ‘anyoung’ to elders but also you don’t say ‘anyoung haseyo to your peers or people of younger age.”

“

It was then when I realized my mistake. I murmured “Oh shoot.”

At the same moment, I started to notice myself internally welcoming the beauty of Korean language although what was expressed externally was a total contrast. 

After stepping into the combat against the Korean language with one supporter behind my back, I was valor and ready to confront more battles and dungeons as there were footprints leading me out of the enigmatic labyrinth—Who am I