Chambumo Gyeong 3 - 2 - 2. A New Beginning in Busan Refugee life

[대태양/김현수]

Book 3

The Beginning of True Father's Public Course and the Founding of HSA-UWC

Chapter 2

True Father's Journey to South Korea and His Course in Busan

Section 2.  A New Beginning in Busan Refugee life

The route to Busan and the Refugee life

Upon arriving at Heukseok-dong, Seoul, True Father found his way to the home of Kwak No-pil, a fellow believer with whom he had been close when they both attended the New Jesus Church in Myeongsudae. Mr. Kwak, however, had already left for Busan. True Father unpacked his things and stayed there for a few days.

On December 30,1950, after searching far and wide, he found the residence of his former landlord Mrs. Lee Gi-bong and her family and met with them. They talked long into the night. After he returned to Mr. Kwak’s house early on the morning of December 31, the police came and took him to the Heukseok-dong police substation for questioning. Earlier Kim Won-pil had been called to the military recruiting station to possibly be drafted into the defense corps; now True Father likewise had to go in for processing. He was given a physical checkup at the military field base set up in the Changgyeong Palace.

However, seeing True Father’s short hair and hearing his explanation that he had come from North Korea, the examiner gave him a class C exemption, because he was worried that if Father were a spy or a deserter from the North Korean army, it might cost him his job. The result was that True Father was exempt from military service. Kim Won-pil was also given the same exemption. Both then returned to Mr. Kwak’s house in Heukseok-dong, where they welcomed the New Year. Two days later, with his exemption papers, True Father went to the police substation and was . issued a refugee ID.

On January 3 the entire population of Seoul was ordered to evacuate the city because the South Korean army would be starting its retreat the following day. True Father and his companions joined the refugee trail once again and headed for Busan.

1 When I traveled to South Korea from North Korea, I had a shaved head. In those days, when you joined the army they shaved your head. As I was young, when I came to South Korea I was supposed to enroll in the army. New recruits would undergo their physical examinations at the Changgyeong Palace. I had been released from prison not so long before then, but still I wasn't too skinny. As they were taking my medical history, one of the officers asked me, "Where are you from?" In those days, people could not tell who was a soldier and who was a spy. Because of my short hair, he thought I might be a spy. He knew that if he sent a spy to the army, he could lose his job. So, after talking to me, he stamped my paper "third class," which meant I was exempt from military service. I carried this paper with me, and it was accepted everywhere. That was the only identification I had. (187-218, 1989/02/11)

2 I underwent hardships, but they were not just ordinary ones. As we fled south, the North Korean army was so close behind us that we could hear their shouts. Along the way we went through many dangerous situations due to the presence of the Soviet, Chinese and North Korean armies. Finally we came to the refugee area in Busan. Among the refugees, I believe we were the last ones to reach the area, arriving right after the battle at the Nakdong River. The South Korean forces had made their last stand. My path as a refugee was extremely difficult. There were many unforgettable stories.

These were not just steps in my personal life but steps to heal the wounds of God's bitter sorrow by paying indemnity for history. You must understand that from the very beginning I had already made up my mind that I would not tread a comfortable path. I am not the kind of person who looks back to see if there might have been another, easier, way.

While living as a refugee I had no house; I slept outdoors on the grass or in the sandpits with the sky as my blanket, watching the stars and shedding tears of bitter sorrow for the Korean Peninsula. (516-109, 2006/02/04)

3 It took 55 days for us to walk from Pyongyang to Busan. We begged for food along the way and, interestingly, God knew very well when we were hungry and tired. He knew it. Once I thought, "The day after tomorrow, we will get chicken." Then it happened that a lady came and greeted me, saying, "Welcome." I asked, "Who are you? I do not know you." Then she said, "Last night, I had a dream of my great-greatgrandfather, who said that a noble guest would come and told me to prepare chicken and rice cakes for him. So I did." I asked her, "How did you know what he would look like?" She said, "I was told he would come as a shabby-looking passerby, and your face looks very similar to his." Can you believe that such things happened? In that way, I was treated to rice cakes and chicken. These kinds of things happened quite often. (153-089, 1963/10/18)

4 Those who followed me in North Korea were very enthusiastic people. They followed me day and night wherever I went, meeting with whomever I met. But after I was imprisoned, most of them disappeared. Even the most unforgettable among them drifted away. There was one person to whom I wrote a heartfelt letter and had someone deliver it to him. But then, when I went to visit him, he had already changed. He said, "If you are the Son of God, why did you end up in prison? Your teaching is all false." He did not even care to read the letter. Instead he said, "Oh, a heretic is released from prison! Did you come here to spread your heresy?" So I took the letter back.

I was still carrying that letter with me when I passed through Yeongcheon, North Gyeongsang Province in South Korea. There, as I was crossing a bridge beside the railroad tracks to go to Busan, I took out that letter and read it one more time. Then I tore it up and threw it away. That was January 18, 1951. There were so many unforgettable incidents like that.

I already knew that even the most zealous among my followers could lose trust, betray me and leave. When I was in prison, that man’s spirit had come to me, greeted me, and in tears told me the story of his situation, saying, "I am leaving you now." I had thought, "How can this be?" But, as I later discovered, it was at that time that he left me.

Father's suffering life as a refugee

Arriving at Choryang Station in Busan on January 27, 1951, True Father cooked rice in a butter tin in the waiting room. He ate it with Kim Won-pil, and they spent their first night there. At the time Busan was teeming with refugees. The next morning, they managed to find Kwak No-pil, who had left his Busan address for them at his home in Heukseok-dong, Seoul before fleeing to Busan ahead of them. They spent three days with him.

Then on January 31, True Father unexpectedly met his friend Aum Duk-mun, with whom he had studied in Japan. Aum Duk-mun would become a prominent architect and design the Se-jong Center in Seoul. Mr. Aum insisted that True Father come and stay with him at his rented single room in Bumin-dong. Reluctantly True Father went there and stayed for a while with Mr. Aum's family of four—himself, his wife, and their two children. After listening to True Father's words for a week, Mr. Aum knelt down before him and confessed, "I can no longer regard you as simply my friend; you are my teacher, a great saint and philosopher."

In early April, True Father and Kim Won-pil went to live in a laborers' camp, which was nothing but a cramped barracks behind Choryang Station. They stayed there for more than ten days. Then they ran into Kim Won-deok, who had been one of True Father's followers in Heungnam Prison. They stayed at his home in Goejeong-dong for about two weeks. For about four months, from May to August, they resided at a boarding house located at the entrance of Beomnaetgol, which before the liberation had been living quarters for employees of a Japanese-run electric company. They also stayed at Pier Three in Busan Harbor for about half a month, working as porters. Sometimes True Father had no choice but to sleep in a sunny spot in the woods or a bomb shelter. Occasionally he even begged for food and laid down to rest under the eaves of strangers' homes. Such was the tearful life he led as a refugee. (170-016, 1987/11/01)

5 When I arrived in Busan, it was flooded with people; they were packed in like sardines. There were no rooms available anywhere. In every trash can or empty box even, there would be two or three people squeezed in. All the refugees who had fled from all over Korea gathered in Busan. It was like a melting pot. There was no space even to put your foot down. Every village around Busan was overflowing with people. Even when trying to just stand still, I would be jostled this way and that. That was my daily life.

Having come to Busan, I had nothing to wear and nothing to eat. I had to make money, even a few pennies, so I worked at various odd jobs. Even in those circumstances I was still able to start a new church movement.

I had no home of my own and it was February, so it was very cold. I worked on night shifts and came back between 10:00 p.m. and midnight. It was very cold at night, so I would sleep curled up like a shrimp and cover myself with a coat down to my knees. I still remember that experience. I asked a member to keep that coat as a memento, but someone threw it away because it was old and tattered. If that coat had been preserved so that you could see it today, you would shed tears. It was such a memorable coat. Living like that, I walked step by step to lay the foundation we have today. (1974/05/12)

6 In those days, I often slept between two rocks on a hill during the warmest hours of the day, around 1:00 or 2:00 p.m., covering myself with a coat. Then, one rainy day around noontime, in front of the Chohung Bank, I met a friend of mine from my school days named Aum Duk-mun. When I saw him, I could not help but loudly shout out to him, so everyone turned around and stared at me. He said that he never imagined he would see me again. He thought I had died in North Korea. As soon as we met, he invited me into his home. I am still grateful for his act of kindness. There were too many refugees sitting and resting under the eaves of people's houses at night. I can never forget how he took me to his house and treated me well. (485-327, 2005/02/02)

7 After I came out of Heungnam Prison, it took me four long months to get to Busan. You cannot imagine how dirty my clothes became. My clothes were so dirty that I wore them inside out. In Busan there was nowhere to sleep. It was December and really cold, and I was wearing just one layer of clothing. When I came to Busan, I tried to avoid the cold by working as a laborer at the military base near the harbor at night. Working at night was easier than trying to sleep. During the day, I went into the hills around the city to find a place to sleep in the forest and spend some time alone. (052-279, 1972/01/03)

8 When I was a refugee in Busan, I slept near the pier or on a hillside. It was interesting. In early February when it was cold, I would lay down on my military coat and wrap myself up in it. Because it was very cold, I worked during the night and slept during the day, from around 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. It was good to sleep on the sunny side of the hill, sitting still and sleeping like a pheasant. After waking up from sleep and straightening my clothes, I thought of Kim Sat-gat’s poem "The Wanderer." When I had money and wanted to eat porridge, I would go to the harbor near the wharves. There were women there who sold red bean porridge that they cooked, covering their pots with a cloth to keep it warm as if they were loving and caring for their babies. I would buy a bowl of porridge and eat it. In those days, those porridge-sellers were my friends.

The Beomil-dong mud-wall hut

In August 1951, True Father built a small, mud-wall hut on the side of Mt. Sujeong on the outskirts of the village of Beomnaetgol. Its current address is 1513, Beomil 4-dong, Dong-gu, Busan. All he had were earth and rocks to pile up on one another, so the structure collapsed twice before he completed it on the third attempt. It consisted of just one room, less than six square meters in area. It did not have a separate kitchen, just a hand-built stove outside against one wall, on which he could place a pot. Near the stove there was a door, about one meter high and situated right in the middle of the wall, so that one could pass through it only by stepping high over the threshold and bending down almost double.

The roof, constructed of cardboard ration boxes joined together, was too low for anyone to stand upright. On sunny days you could see the sky through the roof, and on stormy days rain poured through the roof into the house. When it rained, a small spring gushed forth from one corner of the room and the sound of water running beneath the house could be heard. The water that came in through the chimney, built on the side facing the mountain, flowed through flues under the floor and out through a fire hole. On the floor there were several layers of straw mats, over which there were three to four layers of straw bags, and a long, wide sleeping pad was spread out on top.

In the latter half of 1951, Kim Won-pil worked at a job and True Father assisted him while mainly concentrating on making internal preparations. Kim Won-pil left for work early in the morning and returned late at night. He worked as a sign-painter on the military base, and as a side job he drew portraits for American soldiers from photographs of their wives. Each portrait earned him $4. He drew around ten portraits a day, and sometimes even 20 to 30 portraits on a good day. At that time, True Father wrote Wolli Wonbon, Original Text of the Divine Principle. At night he looked out over downtown Busan and in his mind he envisioned the future of the providence. Every day in the early dawn he climbed up the hill and offered tearful prayers. (153-090, 1963/10/18)

9 During my refugee days when I first came to Choryang, Busan, I was only 32 years old. I was quite young and even more handsome than I am now. I used to work on Busanjin Pier 4. I remember the women who sold red bean porridge and rice cakes at the harbor. I also remember the days when I wrote Original Text of the Divine Principle in a small room at the laborers' barracks in Choryang. It was such a small room, you could not lie down straight, except when you lay diagonally. And even when I lay down diagonally, my feet touched the wall. (143-171, 1986/03/18)

10 During my time as a refugee in Busan, many people gathered around me. If I told them some interesting stories, they would bring food to share with me. However, I could not just live like that so I built a small hut. It was not much better than a doghouse. The walls and roof were made of mud and stones, and it was a very humble place to live in. I did not even own a piece of land on which to build a house, so I built the hut on a slope. After finishing it, I realized there was a small spring in the middle of the floor. The roof was made of old cardboard boxes, and the one room was really small. I wore the same ragged clothes for four months. I was in such wretched circumstances; nevertheless people who were spiritually guided came looking for me. (052-279, 1972/01/03)

11 As I began my course in Busan, I built a small hut in Beomil-dong that was like a swallows nest. I needed a shovel to build that hut. I tried to borrow one, but no one would lend one to me. Refugees try to sell anything to make money, so people refused to lend me a shovel. I had to build a house, but I had no shovel and no money. What could I do? I had to make do with a fire shovel. I also needed a pick-ax, but since I did not have one, I prepared the foundation of the house with only a fire shovel. I tried to borrow a mold to make bricks but I could not get one. So I went to the US military camp, brought back some empty ration boxes, flattened them, put mud on top, and built a house. It took so much mud. In that way, I built a house like a swallow s nest. (153-309, 1964/03/26)

12 Some of the people who were my followers in North Korea had moved to the South. They could not forget me, so when they heard that I was in Busan, they came looking for me. We held Sunday services in that small hut. The hut may have been small, but it became well-known.

I had no land, so I built the hut by leveling a space on the side of a hill. No one bothered me about digging on a hillside to build a house. When it rained, a spring of water gushed up in the room. How wonderful that was! It was like the best, 21st century modern home. What could I do? I dug about a foot deep into the ground and laid stones to make a drainage trough for the water. I made a way for the water to drain out and put the ondol heater over it. So the spring water flowed under the ondol. It was such a memorable house. (153-309, 1964/03/26)

13 On June 25,1953, a ceasefire took effect. Shiploads of military goods from the United States filled the harbor in Busan. I used to count the ships every morning. Before the ceasefire there were normally around 50, but sometimes there were more than 100. By looking at them, I could tell how the war was going. If there was a large number of supply ships, I thought, "There is going to be a big battle." And if there were fewer ships, I reckoned, "The war is going to continue at the same level." At that time I had just a few followers. While I lived by myself in Beomil-dong, the people who became members were those who were urged by the spirit world to come looking for me. I recall this as though it happened just yesterday. (143-172, 1986/03/18)

14 In the past, when I lived as a refugee in Busan, there were times when I shed many tears. There was no house in the world like mine. The house was built on a rock. There was a small table inside, and a canvas for painting. The canvas was for the purpose of painting portraits for American soldiers who were returning to their homes after fighting in the Korean War. These were the only two things inside. It was an impoverished existence. I wore an American military jacket, brown with four pockets. I also wore traditional Korean pants dyed blue, but I did not tie the hems around my ankles. I wore mismatched rubber shoes; one was large and the other was small. In that wretched state I would go and sit alone on a rock, where I would weep as I prayed. That place is the Rock of Tears. (168-036, 1987/08/30)

15 When we were refugees, Won-pil painted portraits and sold them. I made the frames and drew the lines, and he sketched the portraits. After he finished his sketch by drawing the nose, I would set to work painting it. We used to paint all night long, starting at midnight. We could paint up to 30 portraits a night. To paint that many, we had to draw lines first. For 30 portraits, once Won-pil brought the paper, it was I who drew the vertical and horizontal lines. Then, following the lines, he made the sketches.

We received $4 per painting. What could the American soldiers, who were returning home, bring as gifts for their wives? Since they knew that the best gift they could bring their wives would be their portrait, we did this for them. Today we might sell those paintings for $30 or $40, or even $300. On average, Won-pil painted more than 20 portraits each night. He could not do that by himself, so I assisted him. We would work together all night long. (096-143, 1978/01/03)

16 I think fondly of the time I lived in Beomnaetgol with Kim Won-pil. To me, those were the best of times. We usually think of our preschool and elementary school days as the best times. It is because our mom and dad came to wait for us and bring us home, spending much time with us. That is why we think those days are the best.

Likewise, back then, we had such caring hearts for each other. Because we felt each other's hearts so deeply, it was a good time. I also say it was a good time because, placing God's Will at the center, our relationships of heart were better than at any other time. That is why I say it was so good back then. (033-098, 1970/08/09)

17 Around the holy ground at Beomil-dong in Busan, there was nothing but a valley of rocks near a cemetery. In that place I built my hut, a temporary, humble structure. But when I slept there, I knew I was walking the best path to practice filial piety as the Son of God, greater filial piety than anyone who enjoys the splendor of living in any palace of this world. My greatest aspiration was to reach the deepest internal standard that no one else could reach. In those days, externally I looked like a nobody. 1 looked like someone of no value at all. I had a beard on my tanned face, and I was wearing a mixture of Korean and Western clothing. (022-186, 1969/02/02)

18 You need to know my desperate, sorrowful heart as I held onto the rock at the Holy Ground at Beomnaetgol. Can you fathom what I prayed about as I looked out over Busan Harbor, which was packed with cargo ships carrying weapons during the Korean War? All my prayers at the time have been fulfilled. The Unification Church, which no one in the world welcomed, which everyone cast out, and which went through all kinds of tribulations, starting from the position of orphan both in name and in reality, now stands tall.

Indeed, there is nothing that I have not experienced. Nevertheless, all throughout my life, I have been doing everything possible to practice filial piety to God. Such is the man, Reverend Moon, whom you are following, believing in and attending. (145-342, 1986/06/01)

19 World-renowned pastors are now visiting Korea, but why do they come to Korea? They come to visit the Holy Ground in Busan, where I used to sit in a pitiful state during my time as a refugee. At that time I sat and thought, "I have to cross the ocean to plant the connection of heart from my country to the lands across the sea. That is what my heart longs to do. I need to sow those seeds."

We were still in the midst of the Korean War. In that situation, the world was like an iceberg, so cold and harsh. Families were separated. Love for parents, spouses or even children could hardly be found. I prayed, looking out over the sea beyond Busan. God answered me, "Look—in the future the world will be like this," and He showed me a vision. I was on a great heavenly ship pulling into port and multitudes of people were on the pier, shouting with joy and welcoming me. In this way, God comforted me. (148-271, 1986/10/11)