A beautiful love story cut short by the Korean War.
Lee Jung-Seop, born to a wealthy family in North Korea, and Yamamoto Masako met and fell in love when they were studying art in Tokyo in 1939.
They got married in 1945, the year World War II ended, and she took up the Korean name Lee Nam-Deok.
The couple were blessed with two sons when the Korean War (1950-53) erupted.
Together with their sons Tae-Hyun and Tae-Seung who were four and two respectively, they survived the 1951 mass exodus from North Korea to South Korea where they stayed in Busan and Jeju for a year.
In a bid to save their children from hardship in a war torn country, Nam-Deok and her sons boarded a Tokyo-bound repatriation ship in 1952.
The separation was meant to be a temporary one.
The following year, Jung -Seop managed to make it to Tokyo for a weeklong reunion with his wife and sons.
Upon his return to South Korea, Jung -Seop who struggled to make money to bring his family home succumbed to hardship and poor health.
He died alone in a hospital in Seoul in 1956 at the age of 40.
Fast track to 2002, the South Korean government set up the Lee Jung-Seop Art Gallery in Seogwipo in Jeju and the road leading to the museum is named after the renowned artist.
Legacy: Visitors learned about Lee Jung -Seop as they stroll along the street named after him.
Jung-Seop’s life and times, written in English, is displayed prominently at the gallery
I wished I had read about the Lee family before I visited the museum in the Summer of 2018 to better appreciate his art work which says a lot about love for his family and life in a turbulent era.
Happier times: The two paintings by Lee Jung -Seop.
Next to the gallery is a small house where the Lee family stayed in a rented room measuring 1.5m by 2.4m for about a year in 1951.
Evolving times: The Lee family stayed briefly in this house about 70 years ago.
According to The Korean Herald in a report on Jun 6, 2016 – It was in Seogwipo that Jung -Seop created paintings that portrayed children playing with crabs and fish, in cheerful colours, and that his wife later recalled that it was the happiest time for the family.
THE Kim family left Seoul for the mountains for good.
It is do- or- die for Kim Geong-Sik, 40, his wife Ryu Sun- Young, 36 and sons Kim Do-Yun and Kim Do- Yeon aged 11 and seven respectively.
“My husband cannot take the stress in Seoul anymore ,” shares Sun-Young of how stress- a silent killer- forces her family t0 leave the city for good.
They escape from’ kwarosa’ which in Korean means stress and death from overwork.
They left for Namwon in Jirisan – about four-hour-drive from Seoul. Jirisan means Jiri Mountains (san is mountain in Korean) .
Upon arrival, they stay in Sil Sang Temple at the entrance to a farming village.
And that marks the beginning of their two months of orientation – to adapt to rural living and life as a farmer.
That was in 2006.
The Kim family is among thousands of South Koreans who left big cities like Seoul and Busan for the countryside since the late 1990s.
A non-governmental organisation (NGO) staff, Sin Bi, says the exodus started shortly after the 1997 Asian Financial crisis.
Many from the cities who lost their business or jobs in the crisis have left for the countryside to start all over again.
The trend is called “Return to the Farm”, says Sin Bi who is in Namwon to get an update on how people like Sun-Young are doing.
Sun-Young (right) and Sin Bi peeling persimmons at Snail Guesthouse.
But not all are cut out for farming though, says Sin Bi, adding that the government and relevant NGOs have programmes to help them settle down in the countryside.
It was in Autumn 2018 when I met Sun-Young and Sin Bi.
Sun -Young and Geong-Sik has ventured into homestay business in their ‘hanok” (traditional Korean house) in 2013 .
They built another adjacent’ hanok’ three years later (2016) as their business picks up.
Perched on a hillock, their ‘hanok’ named Snail Guesthouse, commands a panoramic view 0f the picturesque surroundings.
“We want our guests to experience the beauty of a slow-paced lifestyle.
“The snail moves slowly, making stops along the way, but it never gives up,” says Sun-Young.
The Kim family’s han0k-traditional Korean house.
Sun-Young says their guests are like a family to them.
At 52, Geong-Sik is a doting halabuji (grandfather) to their young guests.
He mingles with their guests in the morning while Sun-Young is busy preparing breakfast.
Geong-Sik and a young guest took his dogs -Sundal (white) and Borum (black)- for morning walk.
The kitchen is a place for guests and Sun-Young to interact and share their culture.
A photo of the boys when they first arrived at the village in 2006 is displayed prominently in her kitchen.
A good conversation starter, the photo speaks volumes of the family’s journey.
In 2018, Do -Yun, 23 and Do- Yeon, 19 were already in college and high school respectively .
Besides running the guesthouse, Geong – Sik is also a carpenter and has a workshop in the village.
His creations are made from the wood of apple trees.
“Our village is called Apple Village because it is famous for its apples,” says a beaming Sun-Young who is proud of her husband’s creations.
Sun -Young is warm and cheerful.
A typical day for her is waking up at 5.0O am to prepare traditional Korean breakfast.
The breakfast comprises a main dish, several side dishes, soup, rice, fruits and snacks is ready by 7.00am.
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Sun-Young busy in her kitchen, and Korean traditional breakfast in Snail Guesthouse (top)
Much of her waking hours are spent in her kitchen where she cooks and interacts with her guests and friends at the same time.
The couple’s hard work, self discipline and perseverance has given their family a new lease on life.
“I cannot imagine if my husband who cannot take the stress anymore continues to stay in Seoul,” recalls Sun-Young.
While there is rising awareness on the dangers of prolonged stress, many South Koreans have yet been able to overcome this silent killer.
The current Covid – 19 pandemic saw some 20 delivery men purportedly died from “kwarosa” – stress and death from overwork.
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