Face 4

He tried to think about how many human beings his ancestors had eaten already. He would have to go back to his family tree and write down all the dates of birth and dates of death of all his ancestors. His oldest ancestors would have eaten the most humans. His grandmother would need to eat her first human in order to become a baby spirit again. Would she be within the womb of her mother's spirit?

Why did his ancestors need to do this? He had heard of no other Korean family's ancestors doing such a horrible thing.

"Father, why do the spirits of our ancestors need to eat human beings?"
"To be immortal?"
"Is immortality living the same life over and over again?"
"Why... you think immortality is living forever?"
"In heaven, you live forever."
"In hell too."
"Hell is eternal pain."
"And is heaven eternal pleasure?"
"I don't know."

My Father looked at me for a while and then took out some saki from the fridge:

"Please have some with me. Normally I would not ask you to drink with me, but..."

I accepted his offer. I was not really a good Christian anyway. Sometimes, I would drink with best friend.

Father poured me a cup of saki. I drink a little bit of it and it was a bit too strong for me. I was used to wine coolers.

"There was a time when your Mother was quite a modern, independent, fiercely intelligent woman. What am I talking about. She still is that way," he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Fiercely the cigarette burned.

I gulped down the saki. It felt nice. It had a pure taste.

"Your Mother... before we moved to Seoul lived in the country. I can't remember the town she lived in. Your mother... used to be a mudang."
"What's a mudang?"
"A Shamaness, a witch."
"Mother was a mudang?"
"Yes she was. She told me that when she was 15, all the people in the town she lived in scapegoated her for a few mysterious deaths that occurred in the town. Even her parents scapegoated her, but no one could actually prove that she committed those murderers. Of course, you Mother had not committed those murders, but everyone was convinced that she had. Your Mother could no longer eat, sleep or function in any normal manner. She was so angry at the town, but she was afraid of accusing everyone of being liars. The main accuser was a Pastor who told everyone that no less a figure than God had told him that your Mother was the murderer,"

Father poured another drink for me, and although it was a bit bitter, I gulped it down.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked.
"I think you need to know."