From Wonso Pond by Kang Kyong-ae Page A

back into the kitchen, where Granny was busily preparing vegetables for a batch of kimchi .
    â€œWhat is that man doing in there?” asked Granny, who found it offensive that an unmarried woman was traveling around with a man of no family relation.
    â€œI have no idea,” she said, recalling that Okchom had introduced the man in the suit to her father. “Anyway, she wants us to cook some rice.”
    â€œCook more rice? We’ve got plenty leftover . . . She must want it for that man in there.”
    As she washed one of the pots, Sonbi thought about Okchom’s powdered face and her pretty Western clothes. She looked at the charcoal glowing in the oven.
    â€œSonbi, I want you to fetch two chickens.” Okchom’s mother peered into the kitchen.
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    Her message delivered, the woman went back inside. Then, at the sound of something fluttering above her, Sonbi lifted her head.

17
    A single swallow swooped around the kitchen ceiling. Then out it went, like a black arrow soaring into that blue sky. Sonbi let out a faint sigh. It was as though she was looking out at that sky for the very first time.
    â€œDid you hear that? She said to get two chickens!” Granny looked over at Sonbi as she lit a fire in the stove. Her smile was so wide that crow’s feet appeared at the corners of her eyes. Whenever they killed a chicken, she loved to suck on the leftover chicken bones from which the meat had been removed.
    Bwock! Bwock! cried the chickens, startling Sonbi. She wiped her wet hands on her apron and ran out to the back gate. The chickens were squawking and walking in circles atop their nests as she approached the coop, but as soon as they noticed Sonbi, they began flapping their wings noisily to jump to the ground. The smell of manure hit Sonbi in the face. Chicken feathers floated lightly in the air.
    Sonbi stood there for a moment, coughing, and once the chickens had moved out of the way, she peered into their nests. The eggs the chickens had laid only moments earlier seemed to be smiling sweetly at her. Breaking into a smile at the sight of them, Sonbi picked up the eggs from the nests. They still felt warm.
    â€œThis makes forty,” she said to herself, and made her way back to the kitchen.
    Yu Sobang came inside clutching two young hens, blood still dripping from their necks. He looked over at Sonbi with a smile.
    â€œDid they lay any more eggs?”
    â€œYes, they did.”
    Sonbi was so excited to show off the warm eggs to somebody, anybody, that she thrust her hands right out in front of her.
    â€œYou sure have a thing for eggs,” said Granny, dropping the chickens into boiling water. “Counting these, Granny, I’ve got forty of them now.”
    â€œWell good for you, dear! But what’s the use of saving them up like that?” she added softly.
    Sonbi was a little hurt by her words. But only for a moment. When she looked down at the eggs again, they seemed prettier than ever.
    Sonbi quietly opened the door to the pantry and went inside. The smell of mildew greeted her. She took down the egg basket, placed it
atop a jar, and peeked inside. The chock-full basket still held the same of number eggs as it had before. She carefully placed each new egg inside, and just as she repeated the words ‘this makes forty’, a beam of orange sunlight, streaking in through the crack in the doorsill, lit up her hand. After one last good look inside the basket, Sonbi came back out to the kitchen. She sat down next to Granny, who was plucking the feathers out of the chickens.
    They finally finished preparing the lunch and had set their own bowls down on the stovetop to eat when Tokho came in.
    â€œSonbi, go eat in the inner room.”
    Sonbi stood up. “No, thank you.”
    â€œNow, do as you’re told. Come inside and eat with Okchom.”
    Tokho was being so impatient that Sonbi placed her spoon down on her tray as though she