Ferry Sewol

Recently, I was sitting at my desk here in Junggye while working.  Scrolling through facebook in my free time, I saw a news post from a friend about a ferry that had sunk.  I clicked and started reading.  Little did I know, this article would lead to a huge emotional sweep in my foreign home, and within me. 

For those not aware, on Wednesday, April 16^th, a ferry carrying over 476 students and teachers was making it’s way to Jeju Island in the south of Korea.  There were kids from a high school in the south of Seoul, kids the same age as the ones I had taught my first year here.  Only 174 students and teachers were rescued, with 248 students still missing.  These are kids, 16, 17, 18 years old, with their entire lives ahead of them.
Some believe they may still be alive, as the captain coldly told them to stay.  Stay, in a sinking ship, in their cabins, and they listened.  These kids, young innocent children, messaged family members, while the ship sank, saying “We are okay.  We are staying in our cabins like the captain said.  Don’t worry.”  No one knows if they are still alive, but they could be, possibly.

The next day, six of my advanced students walked into my TOEFL class.  They sat down and said “Teacher, we are mad.”  When I asked them why, they proceeded to go into the topic of the ferry sinking.  Sensing that this anger was genuine, I allowed my kids to just talk to me.  They told me about the kids, how they were abandoned, how angry they felt about what the captain had done, how slow the rescuers were moving, the frustration over the loss of life for kids so young.  This is one of the largest losses of life in Korea since the Korean War (or 6/25 as they call it here), and it has rocked their small worlds.  My kids are only in 5^th grade, their English of the same level as kids in America, and they had never experienced this before.  I realized that this was similar as 9/11 was for me, them not understanding how such a loss of life could occur, especially for those who are innocent and young, the same as them.  They were searching for a way to understand, a way to grasp how such an atrocity could occur, for it was beyond their capacity of understanding being still so young. 

While talking with my kids, I realized that I felt pulled by this too.  Not just in a human, compassionate sort of way.  More in the sense of genuine anger at the captain, true sadness and worry for the children who may or may not still be alive and trapped inside that ferry and frustration over the entire incident.  My heart honestly feels heartbroken over this event, and talking with my kids made me realize this.  (Even now, while writing this, I find myself tearing up.)  It struck me as odd, as I didn’t expect it to happen.  Granted, I have lived in South Korea for 3 years almost now- but it is still a bit unexpected that I am able to feel so close and connected to students and people here, feel like one of them, desiring to yell at officials who move to slow, to pray for the students and want nothing more than to swim out to that ferry myself and try to save the innocent students.  I feel like a member of Korean society, rocked by this event, too.  Having grown up in America, I never realized or even knew that this could happen.  When the Boston Marathon Bombing occurred, I felt distant from it.  Not to say I didn’t care, because I did.  Yet there was a space, gap, between me and my friends in the States who were saddened.  I didn’t feel the true impact of what happened, it didn’t sink in and hurt me as deeply.  I’m not sure why.  Yet here, now, these kids, these innocent young students, I feel drawn to them. 

Today, and over these next few weeks as they continue to recover the bodies and attempt to raise the ferry up from the water, I stand with my students and other Koreans.  I light a candle for the poor souls who perished unnecessarily.  I say a prayer for those who may remain living, trapped in a watery coffin.  I stand vigil with everyone here, hoping beyond hope, praying to God, that somehow, someway, they can find and rescue anyone still alive.  Bring a miracle to the families so unnecessarily ripped apart, answers to parents and siblings missing loved ones, grant peace to teachers and friends who lost individuals that they love.  I know for a fact, if I had had a single student on that ship, I would be scared, worried, and saddened beyond belief. 

So I ask you now, on Easter Day when all Christians are supposed to be rejoicing in Christ arisen from the dead, that you say a prayer for those who are lost to the world, buried beneath the harsh waves of the cold ocean water.  Pray that they too, can be risen up and granted a second life too. 

Rita