☀️ Catfish, Cicada, Kitchen Crocs

A memoir of about my mother who has raised three boys herself. It's a story of me running the errand of buying pond loaches from a Korean traditional market when I was in middle school.

My eyes were fixed on a TV. all the wind from the fans on a wall couldn’t even shut my eyes. I was hypnotized by the K-pop idol group, Girl’s Generation. nine girls are dancing in short white skirts so there was no way not to fall in love with them as middle schoolers. Maybe I was as horny as the cicada crying for sex vigorously outside. I was in my mom’s small restaurant with five of six tables. it was just a block away from the Ju-gong(project) apartment in which we lived. It was during my summer vacation at the time so I followed her everywhere. I was there to help, or just watch TV. She called me from the kitchen. I wore her red kitchen Crocs which I hated. It looked ugly with many straining holes, and the insoles even had bumps to massage the bottom of your feet which was for me just a torment for each step. She sieved pond loaches on a giant red plastic strainer. I could see only bones and skins on the strainer. her restaurant only had one menu, Chueo-tang, a Doenjang-based hot loach soup with cabbage and other seasonings.

She handed me five dollars and said “Go get loaches from the fish Ajumma in the market”. Now and then, she gave me an errand for me to get loaches from a traditional market thirty minutes away by a walk. I started walking. It only takes ten minutes of counting how many roadside trees there are while stepping only white sidewalk bricks because if I step on red bricks, I would fall in slow-motion by the bullet in my chest from an imaginary professional sniper, ten minutes of window-shopping of thrift stores for foreign workers in factories and farms, and the last ten minutes of remembering which snack to badger to my mom next time we pass those food carts.

I felt like she knew every Ajumma and Ajussi in the market. As I walked there, Blanket Ajumma gave me a piece of a Korean melon, Coffee Cart Ajumma gave me hot sweet Adlay tea, and finally Roasted Chestnut Ajussi gave me some burnt chestnut. By the time I got to the Fish Ajumma, I could feel my mom’s social life status in my stomach.

I handed the five dollars to the fish Ajumma, and she also knew my order. She handed me back a plastic bag. it was wriggling. She asked me to hold the bag open. She picked a catfish with her pink glove and put it in the bag. it moved more vigorously. “The catfish keeps them fresh”, she said. As pond loaches try to survive their predator, catfish, they live longer. So it means fresher food for customers. I was amazed by how live the bag was. it reminded me of Tangela from Pokemon if you know.

On the way back, What the fish lady said to me gave me a lot of questions. “They live longer because they are stressed?”, “Who is catfish in this society?”, “do I need catfish in my life?”, and finally “Who the fuck am I?”. Cicadas were yelling loudly on every roadside tree. That reminded me of one of the assignments for the summer vacation which was to catch insects in fields such as butterflies, fireflies, grasshoppers, and so on. One cicada on the lower part of a tree caught my eye. I analyzed the shape of trees and my inner boy instinct told me I could climb up the tree and catch the cicada with my bare hand. and that’s exactly how I did it. I grabbed the side of its head so that its wings wouldn’t touch my fingers. its legs still trying to crawl up. I needed to find a box where I could put this cicada and put a nice small air hole for it. with excitement, I ran back because I knew where my mom kept paper bags.

when I saw my mom’s face in the kitchen, that’s when I realized that I only had a cicada in my hand and the other hand was empty. The cicada’s crying broke the silence between her and me. I could see her face was turning red. I ran away crying. the cicada cried also in my hand. I remembered that later I had the red circle marks on her kitchen shoes footprint for more than three days. I walked around for a bit and sat on a wooden bench crying. after a while, out of nowhere, she called my name and I went back to the restaurant holding her hand. She brought a bowl of Chueotang from her kitchen. It was still boiling in TTukbaegi which is a dark earthenware that can retain heat. She put pepper called Jepi or Chopi, saying “This is the Gyengsang-do way without Gochujang. Those red Chueo-tangs from other states are meh”. “Mom, what do you do with catfish?” I asked. “I ground them too” she answered. The Chueo-tang was great.

I later researched about the Catfish Effect the other day. But I couldn’t find any study supporting the fact only multiple studies how animals die earlier by the stress of being next to their predators. I still vividly remember that day and It always makes me smile and reminiscent. Not because of the kitchen Crocs. Perhaps because of how frustrated she was at the time. I know she is not the type of person. She never abused me verbally and physically but only loved me so much. if not, why would she take care of three hungry boys after our father ran away when I was around five? She is a strong woman, a strong mom, and a strong person. I hope she doesn’t have catfish in her life. Cicadas were still crying. Maybe they were because the Jepi pepper was too spicy. because that’s the Gyengsang-do way.

Since English is not my first language, I am also trying to write more in English so that I can improve my writing skills. So there might be some grammatical errors. I would appreciate it if you could give me feedback on my writing. Please let me know on the comment section below, thank you!