Coming to Terms with the Past

A straight, narrow path runs southwest from the main cell blocks of what is now called Seodaemun Prison to the outer edge of the complex, where nearly a century ago friends and family members gathered beyond the wall to spend time with loved ones imprisoned for taking part in the Korean independence movement. When a prisoner had a visitor, he was led along this path to the south wall. But along the way, he passed a second path that breaks off to the right—leading toward the prison’s execution chamber. For those who were sentenced to death, the walk represented the cruelest of torments: unaware of the date of their execution, it was not until they stepped beyond the crossing that they knew they would live another day. At the Junction of Life and Death “This spot marks an important point,” explains Koo Bon-sik, a guide at the prison museum. “When the Korean inmate knew that he would be taken to the right, he cried a lot here—not because of the thought of his death, but because he couldn’t see the day of Joseon’s independence. Prior to entering the execution room, inmates embraced the tree standing by the entrance and wept. The tree is known today as the ‘Wailing Poplar.’” The Japanese began construction of Seodaemun Prison (originally called “Gyeongseong Jail”) in 1907 and started transporting prisoners previously held in small jails throughout the peninsula—mostly arrested protestors of the occupation—the following year. The complex consisted of 18 red brick buildings, including an administration building; cell blocks; two labor buildings where inmates assembled uniforms for Japanese soldiers; a large kitchen for preparing the inmates’ concoction of rice, barley, corn, and beans; and the aforementioned execution room. From its opening in 1908 until Korean independence from Japan in 1945, the prison housed Korean patriots of the independence movement. Following liberation, the complex continued to be used as a jail until its closure in 1987. In 1998, the grounds were reopened to the public as a memorial museum. At present, eight of the original buildings remain. Dismal Conditions Visitors to the prison needn’t take much time to grasp the amount of suffering inflicted on its former occupants. Just a few meters down the first of three long corridors extending from the central building are the prison’s isolation cells, where individuals convicted of the most serious offenses were held. Measuring 3.3 square meters, the rectangular rooms are no larger than a small pantry. Prisoners endured life in these dark and humid concrete boxes day and night, with no windows, electricity, or toilets—their only reprieve being thirty minutes a day on the exercise ground. Conditions were scarcely better for the general population. The prison was designed to hold a maximum capacity of 500, and in the period preceding the March First Independence Movement in 1919, the population rarely exceeded 300 inmates. But as the resistance gained moment, the number of prisoners swelled to 3,500. Koo explains, “Small cells that normally held seven prisoners were now filled with up to 35 people during the peak time. As sleep was near impossible, they took shifts. One third slept on one side of the room, while the other two thirds stood and waited for their turn.” A Student Martyr Torture was a customary component of life in the prison. On this day, two schoolgirls are gazing at a sign in the engineering room instructing them to press a button and place their faces to a glass window. When they do, the room behind the glass fills with light, revealing two mannequins arranged in the scene of a male guard inserting thin, wooden rods beneath the fingernails of a female prisoner. The woman’s screams startle the girls, who hurriedly exit the room. This is but one of many displays of the kinds of torture inflicted on the prisoners. Beatings, electric shock, submersion in buckets of pepper-laced water, and prolonged isolation in coffin-sized wooden boxes are a few of the others. Though the exact number is unknown, it is widely believed that many captives died as a result of prolonged abuse. One such victim was Yu Gwansun, the most revered occupant of the prison. Inspired by the independence movement, Yu left her studies at Ewha Girls' High School in 1918, at age 16, to join in the struggle. She was captured on Apr i l 1 , 1919 and moved to Seodaemun in August of the same year. Defiant to the end, Yu led other inmates in impassioned cries for independence from the solitude of her underground cell until her death in October 1920. Her memory is commemorated by a structure bearing her name located near the front gate of the prison. At the end of a visit to the prison, one is armed with a collection of solemn impressions, yet one more still awaits. Beyond the exit gate, waiting in the distance, is the grand figure of Mt. Inwangsan peering down over high-rise apartments, as though standing guard over a plot of land that represents the sorrow of a nation’s past, the pride of its present, and the promise of its future. More Info T. (02) 360-8590 Hours of Operation: Mar—Oct 9:30am—6pm; Nov—Feb 9:30am—5pm Admission: Adults 1,500 won, teenagers 1,000 won, children (7—12) 500 won, senior citizens and young children (6 and under) free Getting There Exit 5, Dongnimmun Station, Line 3. In the Neighborhood • Independence Gate Located, like the prison, in Seodaemun Independence Park, the Independence Gate was designed by a Swiss engineer and built in 1896 to mark the severance of Korea’s centuries-old relationship with China. • Mt. Inwangsan A fascinating mountain of great spiritual significance for Koreans, Mt. Inwangsan is home to the Guksadang, Korea’s most important indigenous religious shrine. It is also the scene of various indigenous rituals. The nearby Hyundai apartments mark the start to a walking trail that follows the old northern city walls to the picturesque neighborhood of Buam-dong. - The article courtesy of Seoul magazine