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11월 셋째주 인하대 스터디
http://www.arirang.co.kr/News/News_View.asp?nseq=153348
Boeing plane crash lands in Russia, killing all 50 on board
It was a Boeing 737 that crash landed in central Russia, Sunday evening, killing all 50 people on board.
These are the photos of the wreckage released by the Russian Emergencies Ministry.
About an hour after taking off from Moscow's Domodedovo Airport, the Tatarstan Airlines plane crashed at Kazan International Airport, located just outside the Tatarstan capital, at around 7 in the evening, local time.
Russian officials say 44 passengers and six crew members were on the plane -- including the son of the Tatarstan president and the regional head of Russia's Federal Security Service.
"The work of rescuers, psychologists working with relatives of the dead and wounded has been organized. The telephone hotline is open. A working group of the government commission is continuing its work in order to ease the emergency situation "
There is no official word on what may have caused the crash, but reports say the plane had attempted to land at least once and was making a second approach when the accident happened.
An investigation is underway to determine whether the crash was caused by a technical failure or crew error.
Eyewitnesses say that the plane quickly lost altitude and exploded as soon as it touched down.
This latest crash comes after a string of deadly Russian airline accidents in the past couple of years.
Just last year, more than 35 people were killed in two crashes of Russian passenger planes.
Connie Lee, Arirang News.
보잉기가 추락했다 / 러시아 땅에 / 모든 50명을 죽이며 / 탑승한.
보잉737이었다 /불시착한 것은 / 중앙 러시아에서 / 일요일 저녁 / 모든 50명을 죽이면서 / 탑승한.
이것들은 잔해의 사진들이다 / 배포된 / 러시아 이머전시 부에 의해.
대략 한 시간 / 이륙 후 / 모스크바 도모데도보 공항으로부터 / 타타스탄 항공 여객기는 추락했다 / 카잔 국제공항에서 / 위치된 / 바로 타나스탄 수도 외곽에서 / 약 7시에 / 저녁 / 현지시간.
러시아 관리들은 말한다 / 44명의 승객들과 6명의 승무원들이 비행기에 있었다고 / 포함하면서 / 타타스탄 대통령의 아들과 러시아의 연방 보안국의 지역 수장을.
“구조대들과 심리학자들의 작업이 / 일하고 있는 / 사망자와 부상자들의 친척들과 / 조직되었습니다. 직통전화선이 개시되었습니다. 정부위임 작업그룹이 계속하고 있습니다 / 자신의 일을 / 위급상황을 덜기위해.”
없다 / 공식적인 말이 / 무엇이 그 추락을 야기시켰을는지에 대한 / 그러나 리포트들은 말한다 / 그 비행기가 시도했었다고 / 착륙하기를 / 적어도 한번 / 그리고 두 번 째 접근을 만들고 있었다고 / 그 사고가 일어났을 때.
한 조사가 진행중이다 / 판단하기위해 / 그 추락이 야기되었는지 / 기술적 결함에 의해서 아니면 승무원 실수에 의해서.
목격자들은 말한다 / 그 비행기가 급히 고도를 잃고 폭발했다고 / 그것이 땅에 닿자마자.
이 최근의 추락은 온다 / 일련의 치명적인 러시아 항공 사고들 후에 / 지난 1.2년안에.
바로 지난 해에 / 35명이상의 사람들이 죽임당했다 / 러시아 여객기들의 두 추락안에서.
Reporter : connie@arirang.co.kr
Remembering Kim Deuk-ku
By Andrew Dunne
“Boxing is the toughest and loneliest sport in the world,” former heavyweight champion Frank Bruno said in a 2005 interview.” You’ve got all the fans jumping up and shouting ... But when you actually go in the ring, it’s a very lonely and scary place. It’s just you and the other guy”.
Boxing requires a level of mental and physical fortitude not matched in many sports. Boxers have no teammates. They have a group of people whose purpose is to prepare them for fights ― managers, coaches, trainers and sparring partners ― but on fight night, only two combatants share the ring, each standing in the other’s path to victory. Thus, the fighter is ultimately accountable.
It is that accountability that seemingly pushes some boxers past their pain and energy thresholds in pursuit of winning. Some are simply too brave and will fight to their deaths, literally, a fact all too familiar with boxing fans on the Korean peninsula.
On Nov. 13, 1982, in the 14th round of a fiercely contested world-title fight against champion Ray Mancini, a flurry of punches knocked Kim Deuk-ku backwards onto the canvas. While he bravely managed to stumble to his feet, the referee declared him unfit to continue. Minutes later, he fell into a coma. He died four days later.
Speaking of Kim’s valiant efforts, the late sports journalist Ralph Wiley, who was at the fight, called it "one of the greatest physical feats I had ever witnessed.”
Kim’s shocking death had a lasting impact on the boxing world. Shortly after his untimely demise, several rules were modified to increase fighter safety. Perhaps most significant of all, the number of rounds for title fights was reduced from 15 to 12. New medical procedures were also introduced to monitor fighters before and after bouts.
In Korea, prior to Kim’s death, boxing was hugely popular. And, Koreans had good reason to be excited. Unbeknownst to many, Korea has a rather decorated boxing history. The country has produced a number of world champions, both male and female, including two who have been inducted into the prestigious International Boxing Hall of Fame ― Chang Jeong-ku and Ryu Myung-woo.
However, following Kim’s death, the sport largely lost its appeal here. Not only did the number of Koreans practicing the sport sharply decline, but so too did media coverage and government investment in the sport.
The 2007 death of Choi Yo-sam was another blow for boxing in Korea. After winning his 32nd fight, former champion Choi collapsed in the ring, never to recover.
Although boxing may have lost its place as one of Korea’s most hailed athletic endeavors, Koreans still have much to cheer. Korea has several reigning female world boxing champions. Then there is always the incredibly entertaining unbeaten middleweight champion Gennady Golovkin, whose mother is Korean.
So, the boxing landscape in Korea is still quite bright. But, we must not forget those who paved the way. This Sunday, November 17th, marks the 31st anniversary of Kim Deuk-ku’s death. While Kim’s death was no doubt saddening and a stark reminder of how fragile we are as humans, the bravery he displayed was a testament to our innate grit. And, as it is often said, it’s not tragic to die doing what you enjoy.
Or, as George S. Patton once stated:”Better to fight for something than live for nothing.”
The writer teaches at Chosun University in Gwangju. His email address is:a_dunne@ymail.com.
Returning to Korea after 30 years
By Simone Aschenbrenner
On a damp dreary day, I was flipping through the television channels and stumbled upon a Korean moderator with blonde hair. I was shocked. I lived in Korea for eight years, and this wasn’t the hairstyle I remembered. I started looking at Korean movies and realized it wasn’t just the hairstyles that changed ― the whole country had.
After watching more shows and films set in Korea, I realized that the country I once knew was no more. On television, it looked as modern as any city in Germany, which is where I now live.
While I consider Germany my home, I lived in Iri (Iksan), North Jeolla Province from 1975 until 1983.
I didn’t want to go back to see this modern Korea, but when a friend reached out to me through Facebook and asked me to come home, I changed my mind. After 30 years, I decided it was time to visit Iksan, where my father owned a clothing factory and built houses. I was hoping the home in which I lived was still standing.
I cried when I got to the Iksan Station near my house. There was nothing I could recognize. The station was replaced after an explosion in 1977, which I remember. I recall the loud sound, glass breaking in our home, and my father trying to convince me that the explosion was not due to a war. The next day, my brother and I went to see the wreckage and were shocked by the massive hole that was once the train station.
Iksan was rebuilt, which was a big deal for us kids. We got a new movie theater, where we spent hours watching films.
Now, 30 years later, everything was different. I was hopelessly lost.
Huge buildings are everywhere. Cars fill streets. The roads are wide, resembling a big city. Electric signs tell me when to cross the street. Shopping areas sprawl as far as you can see. Almost everyone has a smartphone in his or her hands. There’s even a Dunkin Donuts ― unbelievable.
No Korean high school boys wear black uniforms or shaved heads anymore. No Korean high school girls are in black uniforms, white socks, black sandals and chin-length haircuts. No grandmas are wandering around the farm with black rubber shoes. No grandpas are yelling at birds to get them out of the rice field. No handcarts or stands with dried fish are on the streets anymore.
The marketplace with the fly-covered meat hanging in the sun is gone. Farmers are no longer tossing rice in the air to separate the shell from the grain.
I remember eating Haitai Shimona Ice Cream. After searching, I finally found my favorite treat, but it’s not the same. I could go on and on about the things that have changed.
When we returned to Oyang-dong district, where I lived, I didn’t know where I was. Nothing was the way I remembered. I cried and almost gave up finding anything from my past. Fortunately, we stumbled upon The Iksan Culture Center, where one of my father’s former employees works. He remembered so many details and was able to take me to my old house, which was still standing. My father’s factory is still there too.
The current owner of the factory was kind enough to show me around, and I got to travel back in time. The black color on the ceiling, which was a big hassle for my mother, was still there after more than 30 years. Even the hand dryer my father got for the workers 30 years ago was still in the bathroom.
I even got to see my old room and, for a second, I felt like a teenager again.
No European country has grown like this in three short decades. Iksan citizens can be proud of themselves. They rebuilt after the train explosion and kept growing.
I hope the area continues to embrace modern conveniences, but I also hope it maintains its country charm.
While I may be a German now, Korea is still in my heart.
The writer is a manager in Germany. She calls Korea her second home. Contact her at schese@online.de.