The Island Baby
My one-year-old nephew loves music. Since he was an infant, he would fall asleep in my arms to the songs I sang to him. I wasn't particular about my selection: the songs varied from classic lullabies — such as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” or “Amazing Grace” — to Korean ballads. Yet strangely, the songs that put him to sleep were the sad ones, the ones that spoke of immense loneliness and heartbreak.
A couple of days ago, I was again putting my nephew to bed. As usual, he resisted by tossing around and walking in zig-zags before lying still. When he covered the blanket over his face, I took the cue and began to sing “The Island Baby,” one of the most famous children’s songs in Korea. It goes like this:
While a mother goes to the quiet shore to gather oysters,
A baby stays behind, all alone, watching the house.
To the murmuring lullaby sung by the sea,
The baby falls asleep, resting his arm beneath his head.
What a sad song, I thought to myself. The baby was left alone at his house, unattended, and probably for a long time. The only source of comfort for him was the sound of the waves crashing in and out. He even had no pillow of his own.
After repeating the song a few times, I saw my nephew’s eyelids trembling in drowsiness. I lowered my voice and began humming the song. At my third cycle, he was completely asleep, motionless, and breathing steadily. I covered his feet with his blanket, and left the room with the door open.
In the living room, I searched for the song on the Internet, for I wanted to know the exact lyrics. I didn’t know why I did, but now I understand I must have been worried about the baby. To my surprise, the song had a second verse which I never knew before. I quietly mouthed the lyrics so that I wouldn't wake the baby.
While the baby sleeps peacefully,
The cries of seagulls stir the mother’s heart.
Carrying a half-filled oyster basket on her head,
She rushes back home along the sandy path.
I was stunned. All along I only had the perspective of the poor baby who was left alone, but now I also had the story of the mother, another poor soul whose life was equally lonely and desperate. In my head, I imagined the sharp cries of large white seagulls hovering over her, the anxious heart the mother must have carried along with the basket, her guilt, her sadness, and her Han.
The song had no third or fourth verses, so I couldn’t know what happened afterward. But I kept wondering: What happened to them — the baby and the mother? Did she arrive home before the baby woke up, before he began crying out of confusion and felt a deep sense of abandonment from his mother? And was the mother able to make a living out of that small portion of oysters she had gathered? Did they survive? Are they well?
It was a question that had no answer. So I did what I do the best: I thought, and thought, and thought.
