(Written on May 27, 2021, and translated into English on May 17, 2025)

 

 

As I mentioned before, to the left of our house in Sokkomoti lived Mingge’s family, who earned a living by pulling a horse-drawn cart, and behind us was my friend Kangsoo’s family. Today, I want to share an outrageous incident involving Mingge and Kangsoo’s father—an episode so unforgettable that it still shapes the way I see a simple bowl of roasted soybeans.

 

Mingge was seven years older than me, about the same age as my older brother—meaning he must have been around 13 at the time. While he wasn’t particularly gifted academically, his mischievous intelligence was off the charts. His antics often made him a menace to those around him, and one day, he pushed his luck too far—with disastrous consequences.

I was about five or six years old that summer, and it was an unusually hot one. One afternoon, as my family sat down to lunch, we suddenly heard a loud commotion from Mingge’s house. Our homes were packed tightly together, so we could easily make out what was happening next door. It wasn’t long before I recognized the enraged voice—it was Kangsoo’s father, yelling at the top of his lungs.

 

Curious, I thought, “What’s going on now?” Soon enough, I learned the shocking truth. Mingge’s family was eating lunch on their wooden veranda, enjoying barley rice wrapped in fresh lettuce leaves. Out of nowhere, Kangsoo’s father barged in, carrying a bucket full of feces, and, to everyone’s horror, dumped the entire thing onto their lunch table.

 

It was an act so outrageous that, in my lifetime, I’ve never seen anything like it again. This incident was, to me, as shocking as the infamous Panmunjom Axe Murder Incident. Years later, the politician Kim Du-hwan seemingly took inspiration from Kangsoo’s father when he splashed a bowl of human excrement onto Prime Minister Jung Il-kwon and other officials in the National Assembly—an act that showcased Korea’s bold and unconventional spirit to the world. If anything, Kangsoo’s father was a pioneer in this field.

 

At the time, Kangsoo’s father was already an elderly man with a much younger wife, and Kangsoo’s older sister—his daughter from a previous marriage—had a hunched back. Because of this, neighborhood kids didn’t take him too seriously. My first thought was, "Has he completely lost his mind?" But as I listened to his furious shouting, I began to piece together what had led to this shocking act of revenge.

 

Let’s rewind a little.

 

Earlier that day, Kangsoo’s father was sitting on his narrow wooden porch, seeking relief from the oppressive heat. That’s when Mingge appeared, carrying a small bowl filled with roasted soybeans.

“Sir, you must be hungry. Please enjoy these,” Mingge said, presenting the bowl with an innocent smile.

 

Touched by the gesture, Kangsoo’s father thought, “What a kind-hearted boy! Food is scarce these days, and yet he roasted a whole bowl of soybeans just to share with me.”

 

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you,” he replied, placing the bowl beside him. He didn’t want to eat immediately while Mingge was watching—it wouldn’t be dignified.

 

Once Mingge left, Kangsoo’s father scooped up a generous spoonful of the roasted soybeans and brought them toward his mouth. But something felt off—the spoon contained not just roasted soybeans, but also a strange bluish liquid pooling at the bottom. He absentmindedly prepared to eat but was suddenly struck by a foul, stomach-churning stench.

That rotten little rascal had filled the bowl with feces, covered it with a thin layer of roasted soybeans, and served it to the unsuspecting old man!

 

Realizing the betrayal, Kangsoo’s father recoiled in disgust, throwing down the spoon as rage boiled inside him.

“You despicable little punk! Let’s see how YOU like it!”

 

Overcome with fury, he grabbed a bucket, filled it to the brim with feces, stormed over to Mingge’s family’s dining area, and dumped it all over their meal. Incidentally, that particular toilet was one I often used myself, since our house didn’t have a proper restroom at the time. So it’s very likely that part of that bucket’s contents belonged to me.

 

Looking back, I still wonder—how could Mingge commit such a disgusting prank against an elderly neighbor? To this day, whenever someone offers me roasted soybeans, I stir them around with a spoon first, just to make sure.

This whole ordeal makes me wonder—what will I be remembered for? Something worth reflecting on.