“NAREUL BEORIGO GASINEUN NIM EUN/SIBRIDO MOTGASSEO BALBYEONGNANDA~”

            It must have been 1955 when it took place. In an old teahouse down in Seoul, South Korea. The country was war-torn and destitute, leaving people at a sad state of poverty, loss, and death. No part of Seoul was safe during the time the North attacked them. Help came from the West in the form of the American armed forces. Thousands and thousands of GIs were sent to the land of the Morning Calm to aid their Korean brothers in defending what is rightfully theirs.

            Not all those living in Seoul are for the war or approve of the war. The civilians despised the bombings, the bloodshed, and the deaths by the thousands. Ordinary people who weren’t risking their lives abhorred the fact that they had to evacuate and run, blistering their feet in the debris-laden ground just to flee from the bombs and guns. At this time of the war, no part of Korea was safe. Homes were ransacked, people were kidnapped and killed. Women and children, , tortured, and executed. Lots met untimely, unjust deaths. Their namesake, Land of the Morning Calm was questionable at this time.

            “Arirang, Arirang, arariyo/ Arirang gogereo neommeoganda.”

            Not all times were gloomy. Especially for the troops who needed a little bit of relaxation every now and then. Of course, their wounds needed to heal and they needed to replenish their worn-out bodies that had been running and ducking for cover and fighting for the first few days of the year long war. They needed time to unwind and what better way to unwind than to hear some beautiful music from beautiful Korean women.

            “Jeogi jeo sani Baekdusaniraji~” sang a pair of beautiful lips pressed slightly on the microphone. The American and Korean troops felt their hearts swell with pride and camaraderie as the song continued. Though the US soldiers did not fully understand the song word by word; they knew the true message of it in their hearts and it made them proud to be marching along with their Korean brethren.

            “That song...” said one Korean soldier, pounding the left side of his chest, eyes welling up with beads of tears, “...makes me proud.”

            “I know.” smiled the American soldier, putting his arm around him. “I feel the same way.”

            The only thing that could be more beautiful than the song, though was the singer. The many soldiers who came to bars did not really come for the entertainment, at least not 70% of them. Of course, they were men and men are really prone to temptations, especially now that they were away from their wives and could do whatever they wanted. However, not all soldiers howling for beautiful Korean entertainers were just after . Some of them, namely the single ones whose hearts had never been touched, were looking for love.

            “Kamsahamnida.” bowed the singer as she finished the Arirang, the army song of the US and South Korean troops. They’d march to this song every assembly time and to honour them, the teahouse decided to sing a song to commemorate their dedication to fighting for freedom.

            That part of the show was just the opening.

            The Tea House is not actually a tea house as its name suggests. It’s a nightclub and an entertainment bar that is located in the heart of the city. Over the years it had catered to a number of patrons including politicians and celebrities but this time, it was made open and available to soldiers who filled the entire place and emptied their bottles. Winning wars required good, healthy bodies and if you’re worn out, you could probably just fall asleep at the next fire that you aim. So to ensure that they were well rested and had good spirits, the brave soldiers would waste time at The Teahouse.

            The Tea House was not just home to good food and drink and music. If you’re the kind who’s looking for pleasure, they had it there, too. That’s why the company hired only women because majority of the patrons were men. Waitresses, singers, dancers, even comfort women were part of the Teahouse family that worked hard and catered to their customer’s every need.

            Including getting laid before the war. Just a little spirit lifter.

            “Boys, we got a war to win tomorrow!” , one of the young American soldiers drunkenly screamed. “And we might die. So before we go to heaven, let’s go up high to cloud nine!!!!” the soldiers all cheered because they know what he meant. At this, the manager knew what they wanted and rushed to the back, where the dancers and the es were.

            “Girls. Line up! The GIs want to have the . We get big money! Big, big money! The dollars!!! Ohhh~” the manager lustfully said. The young ladies all squealed with delight knowing that they were going to earn big tonight. All of them quickly fell in line and giggled amongst themselves. The hostess got back on stage and took to the mic.

            “Gentlemen, presenting our performer of the night, Ms. Park Bom Lee!” she introduced her and cleared the stage for the true singer. The soldiers kept their eyes on the stage, watching an hourglass silhouette come closer and closer, emerging from the curtains but diverted their attention as soon as the little dancers came rushing from the stage and onto the tables of the GIs. Chugging beer, chomping beer nuts and clapping hands, everyone started to have a good time.

            “Geudae nayegemanjari jwoyeo

            Ireon naege mideul muljwobwayo

            I said ooh~ ooh~ jiltoohage hajimayo

            Ooh~ooh~ Jipchakhage hajimayo~”

            Bom Lee pressed her naturally pink lips on the microphone, holding the stand and swaying her hips to the music as though she was a pole dancer. She wore and long, silken red gown that had a slit in front, revealing her long, white legs. Bom Lee had white skin, around 5’4” in height with very beautiful and unique facial features, facial features that could rarely be seen on your typical Korean girl’s face. Her eyes had double eyelids, which on her were natural. Her hair had been dyed red to give contrast to her pale white skin. Everything on her spelled perfection but nothing could be more perfect than the voice that she used to sing this song.

            “I Love you~” came the chorus. The chorus was the most explosive part. That was when the dancers began to strip their clothes off and gyrate for the soldiers, creating intense pleasure and a climatic feeling inside. Park Bom smiled but inside, she was dying. She did not want to see what she was witnessing before her.

            The men seemed to be happy with the little striptease that they were treated to the night before the battle. Every lady was on a man’s lap, kissing and touching passionately. It made Bom Lee lonely to know that she sang of love everyday and never met a single man, in her entire career as a singer in the Teahouse, that loved her, let alone was attracted to her. It made her question her appearance.

            “Wae ireon nae mameul ajik molla

            Nan noye maeumeul ajik jal molla~”

            Bom had a pretty good upbringing, being the daughter of two Korean merchants. She was 18 years old when war broke out, damaging the ports where her parents worked, leaving them with no job. Her father was terminally ill while her mother had suicidal tendencies due to her low self-esteem, thinking that she wasn’t capable of doing a good job. Her mother had been depressed since and with her being the only functioning one, she decided to use her singing talent to earn money at the Teahouse.

            “It’s better than ion,” she would say. It was sad for her, though that the es earned more than she did and got touched by a man.

            “Momchujimayo, sarangnorae

            Meotjin nal wihaebulleojulkae everyday.

            I said yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

            I said yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah~”

            Bom could sing love songs all day. Her melodious, powerful voice would never waver. But if there was one thing that many knew wouldn’t waver or wane about her, it was her remarkable beauty. Men and women alike admired her mannequin-like face and body but that was about it. No man dared court her, let alone struck a conversation of courtship or flirted with her. It made her sad and scared that she would die an old maid.

            “Momchujimayo sarangi dance

            I bami geudaewa bonnaego shippeunde

            I said yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

            I said yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah”

            Somewhere in the crowd of pleasured, drunk soldiers was a decent young man from the city of Boston. His name was Stephen Jones. Stephen Jones was an average Joe with not so average looks. His face wasn’t far from your typical American boy next door but it was this trait that made him handsome. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, was 6 feet tall and had a muscular yet skinny built that girl seemed to love. Women loved him and ogled their eyes at him but he wasn’t interested. If it was just they were after, he was having none of it.

            “If I’m going to commit myself, I’m going to make sure I commit wholeheartedly and that we would be together til the day we die.” he would often tell his friends. Stephen wasn’t conservative, though. He wasn’t just into as much as his friends or most guys were.

            “I love you everyday, in every way neol saranghae

            Wae ireon nae mameul ajik molla

            Nan noye maeumeul ajik jal molla”

            Of all the soldiers in the bar, Stephen was the only one who did not accept the services of a comfort woman. He had that much respect for women that if he wasn’t going to marry them, he wasn’t going to have with them.

            “Come on, sweetie. Just one !” seduced the dancer. Stephen cringed in disgust and waved his hand at her, declining her services.

            “Sorry lady, I’m reserving myself. Go over there to , you’ll get a good pay!” th dancer was disappointed and .

            “Maybe you’re not a real man. Maybe you are-“

            “Look.” Stephen angrily set the record straight, annoyed with the dancer’s persuasion. “I came here to win a war, not to a girl. Sides, the money I have here is good for just my personal needs, important things. Nothing more. So if you’re looking for a real good time, I suggest you scoot over to ’s side over there.” he said as he sent the young woman away. She merrily skipped to and the latter took her in.

            The whole time Bom was singing, she was looking for someone amongst the soldiers who was alone, someone she could talk to. Someone who didn’t seem to have that many friends.  And Stephen fit that bill perfectly.

            “Kamsahamnida. Have a good night everyone.” Bom bowed before the crowd as her song ended. She walked over coquettishly to the backstage, her skirt preventing her from making huge strides. The soldiers howled, clapped, and threw their caps in the air. Stephen wasn’t jumping up and down for joy, though. What he wanted was to fight for Korea’s freedom, to do what he was supposed to do as a soldier.

            Backstage, Bom was busy removing her makeup angrily.

            “I hate makeup. I shouldn’t even be wearing this! This is gross!” she cried as her face burned. She was allergic to makeup but was left with no choice but to wear it for her job required it. 

            “Bom you did marvelous!” clapped her manager as she looked at her talent, tired and worn out from her performance.

            “Thank you.” she replied with a fake smile.

            “I promise, you get your pay tomorrow.”

            “Pay. Make sure.” Bom smirked. Gathering her things, she stood up and exited the dressing room with her backpack hanging on one shoulder.

            “Where you go? You still have one more show, girl! Hey! Come back!” the manager called. Bom turned around and faced her manager, squinting eyes and gritted teeth.

            “HOME.” Bom spun around and stormed out of her dressing room, headed for her apartment.

            Bom and her manager were rarely in good terms. Her manager was the kind who would exploit her talent to a great extent for the sake of getting all her money. Now that Bom had become increasingly famous throughout the country, her pay had to double but it wasn’t her benefitting from the income, it was her manager getting 60% of her income, angering her to great lengths. From then on, she only performed when she wanted to instead of following her schedule but when the needs became greater, she found herself following the schedule once again.

            But this time, it was personal.

            “I’m going back to the camp, guys.” Stephen said, getting tired of the decadence and fun that his fellow soldiers were having.

            “Stay for a little while, Stephanie!” they teased. He was called Stephanie because he was kinder and gentler compared to the other soldiers, thus leading them to believe that he was effeminate. He wasn’t gay, though. Drinking and women just weren’t his things. Stephen walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets, lankily walking out of the bar and down the street to solely make his way back to the soldiers’ camp.

            Coincidentally, Bom was walking down the same road and had happened to see him. He saw her too but felt too shy to talk to her for he never talked to a woman before. Bom, who had never been with a man either, refused to look his way. They both wanted to look and talk to each other but the shyness in them was apprehending them from getting closer.

            Korea was already war-torn at the time. The streets weren’t as peaceful as they were before the war. Though the bar provided a minute of pleasure, stepping outside meant facing reality once again. Bom sighed as she overlooked her country that was badly suffering in the hands of the North Koreans. It made her sad to know that the land she loved was about to be torn to pieces and to be conquered by a dictatorial power. Mixed with the sadness she felt in her heart, the lady clad in a little black dress with a shawl wrapped around her shoulder, she sat on the sidewalk and began to sing, looking at the destitute state Korea was in.

            Arirang, arirang, arariyo

            Arirang gogero neomoganda

            Nareul beorigo gasineun nimeun

            Sibrido motgasseo balbyeongnanda

            In this sentimental moment, Bom removed the fake arirang hairclip that was holding her hair in a messy bun, letting her long, beautiful hair down. Stephen had passed by her and this fragile sight caught his eye, making the American GI stop and stare.

            Arirang arirang arariyo

            Arirang gogero neomoganda

            Cheong cheong haneuren

            Jal byeoldomanko

            Urineun gaseumen kkumdo manda

            Bom’s melodious voice resonated throughout the empty, quiet street and into the night. Stephen was captivated and being a photographer and sketch artist back in Brooklyn, he imagined himself taking her picture or sketching her in the position she was in. But it wasn’t her voice that captivated him rather it was her vulnerable beauty that did not have much to it.

            Her hair, long and messy, dwarfing her face underneath those childish bangs. It may be dyed but I know she did it for her passion. The voice that she sings with echoes in my mind and heart and it makes my heart beat in a way it never would. In a way I never thought it could. Those eyes reflect sadness, a kind of sadness that could only be caused by the knowledge of imminent danger and death, something that is worth being sad about. I bet this lovely doll is singing her sorrows away, spending what could be her last night doing the one thing she loves... Stephen did not know it, but he was falling slowly in love with Bom, the American GI’s heart was captured by the Korean entertainer. Gathering his guts, he walked over to her side, hoping that she would take notice.

            I hope she doesn’t embarrass me. I have not much experience with women.

            Bom stopped singing upon sensing Stephen coming closer. She stood up and walked away, shielding her face with her long hair. She seemed humiliated with him having heard her sing that she wanted to get as far away from him as she could. Not wanting to let this opportunity slip by, Stephen tried to call her.

            “Lady! Hey! Lady!” he ran after her. Knowing that they were the only two people in the street, Bom turned around and stopped for him.

            “What do you want?” she asked with a disturbed and scared expression on her face. Stephen inched closer to the girl whose shoulders were hunched and scared for her life. She knew he was an American soldier and to her, soldiers meant war. She felt scared.

            “I am Stephen.” he introduced himself. “Stephen Jones. American GI. Pleasure.” he extended his hand for her to shake. Bom was reluctant at first but took his hand and shook it nonetheless.

            “Park Bom Lee.” she said.

            “You were the singer in the bar, right?”

            “Yes.” she replied. Stephen thought she looked really cute with her face hiding underneath her long hair. He was trying to fight the urge to brush some strands away from her face.

            “I have to go.” Bom pulled away and ran, gathering her things close to her heart. Stephen did release her and happily looked at the beautiful girl running away from him. It made him sad that he did not get to say a lot of things to her but it did his heart good to know that he was able to hold her hand.

            That was all I needed. Stephen froze on the street as he watched her run away back to her house.