A Second Farewell
Scorching Summer Day in Pakistan!
The scorching summer in Pakistan, with temperatures exceeding 45 degrees, not only heated our bodies but also our hearts. When I hung my laundry in front of my small room, it would dry in just 15 minutes due to the intense heat and dryness. During such summers, not only the air but also the ground was hot. The musty smell of muddy ground with a hint of water filled the air.
On nights when it was too hot to sleep, without air conditioning or fans, enduring the heat was the only option. One day, a missionary living with us taught me a way to sleep coolly.
By laying a thick mink blanket on the floor, pouring water over it, and rolling my body around on the wet blanket, the evaporating water would cool my entire body, making it incredibly refreshing.
Although I would wake up with my whole body swollen from the water, it was the only way to survive the hot summer. Sometimes, going to a living room with air conditioning for a short rest was a bonus for the day.
On days when it rained all day, I would stay awake all night, fearing that my small room, built with mud and straw bricks, would dissolve and collapse from the rainwater.
My husband and I diligently learned the language and enjoyed meeting the local people. The most challenging part was learning the local language from teachers who taught in English. Although I didn't know the local language, the bigger problem for me was English. I struggled every day during language study time, barely managing with gestures.
In the morning, the village children, who would sit in a row in the furrow to relieve themselves, would come to greet us almost every day, fascinated by the life of foreigners. Meeting the children often reminded me of my daughter left behind, and some days I looked forward to seeing them.
As my husband and I adapted to the culture and language daily, we lived our married life without any issues and were truly happy. It felt like a miracle to be able to enjoy such times.
However, I became pregnant with our second child. I was worried about the health of the baby due to my ongoing tuberculosis treatment and felt even heavier thinking about my daughter left behind. But I was grateful that my husband was by my side this time. Unlike my first pregnancy, when I endured morning sickness alone, this time I felt compensated for the loneliness of my first pregnancy, knowing I would receive care.
Although my husband couldn't bring me jokbal (pig's feet) in the middle of the night like in Korea, he diligently made delicious pomegranate juice for me. The sense of security and protection from having my husband in my life made me incredibly happy.
During this time, we faced another challenge. My husband, who followed me as a missionary, was not a medical professional, so his role within the team was unclear, making his position difficult in many ways.
In Korean culture, a man is naturally recognized as part of the family when he marries, but in my case, as a woman who married, there was confusion about my husband's position.
We received half of the support for a family.
It was manageable when I was alone, but with my husband and my pregnancy, paying the rent every month became financially challenging. It was even harder during months when the funds arrived late. From the beginning, we had to handle many things that didn't align with our culture.
However, we couldn't focus solely on our situation, as we came to this land for people living in poverty and pain a hundred times worse than ours. We were grateful just to breathe and live safely every day.
The lives of women who must bear the threat of life and the pain of poverty throughout their lives! Unable to move freely alone, unable to easily go to the hospital when sick! The opportunity to study is the greatest blessing in life! Some girls are sold, and some have to work like slaves even at a young age...
Living among such people, what more could we ask for?
Our small difficulties seemed luxurious.
My husband and I tried our best every day, not to lose sight of why we came here, despite our circumstances.
One day, a missionary from another city came and suggested to my husband to join a new pioneering work. For my husband, who had just finished his military service, joining such a challenging pioneering work was an exciting proposal.
Seeing the joy in my husband's heart, I was convinced that going to a place where he could confidently fulfill his role was the better path, considering the sacrifices he had to make to be with me. Although it would be hard to be apart again, we decided to go to that city, believing it would be a great time of training and challenge in our youth.
A few days later, we bravely encouraged each other,
fearing that our suppressed emotions might overflow,
and had a wonderful second farewell.
