Bosintang - Honorable Goodbye
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ONE
They killed the dog late in the afternoon, but they actually started torturing it before lunch. We were in Namwon, a small village in Korea and were heading back to Pusan in the morning. They wanted to treat us to a feast and song before we left. Sometime after breakfast, a malnourished medium sized black dog leapt off a wagon. The owner ushered him into a small pen behind our host’s house. The elderly men of the small Korean community discussed how to best tenderize the meat. They quickly decided not to beat the dog to death with fists as they usually do. Instead they agreed on a different method.
The black dog looked dumbfounded and content when a fatter man approached and petted her. Without warning the fatter man snapped the dog’s right rear leg. It cracked. We heard the crisp break inside. The dog howled. We thought the worse over. Yet, the elderly men laughed and walked away; the dog still crying – re-learning how to stand. We ate rice and seaweed inside trying to block our ears from her whimpers during lunch. An hour later the fatter man went back outside. He gave the dog some water. Then he fractured the opposite front left leg with a bamboo stick.
The sun rose higher; the heat almost unbearable. Out of pain the dog could not stand nor sit. Its cries turned to muffled sobs. They returned. The fatter man petted the dog for some time. Then, he kicked in the rear left leg. They laughed. The dog’s head fell down. She looked defeated. Its only strong leg shook. We couldn’t turn away nor interfere. During the hottest part of the day, they returned with cigarettes and soju. The dog stared only at the fatter man who wasted no time. He grabbed the thigh and calf of the dog’s last good leg; it snapped like dry wood. The dog cried for death as she collapsed on the dirt.
They drank and smoked by the fence, the fatter man approached the dog one last time after smoking. Finally, he snapped the dying creature’s neck in a swift movement. They spoke to us about the process. “Breaking, adrenaline, tenderizes meat, good for soup, honorable,” disjointed phrases I couldn’t register.
A few villagers sang in their finest clothes when the sky darkened. The dog reappeared, this time in the best bowls they could afford. This is how we said goodbye.
- Nick Seifert
ONE
They killed the dog late in the afternoon, but they actually started torturing it before lunch. We were in Namwon, a small village in Korea and were heading back to Pusan in the morning. They wanted to treat us to a feast and song before we left. Sometime after breakfast, a malnourished medium sized black dog leapt off a wagon. The owner ushered him into a small pen behind our host’s house. The elderly men of the small Korean community discussed how to best tenderize the meat. They quickly decided not to beat the dog to death with fists as they usually do. Instead they agreed on a different method.
The black dog looked dumbfounded and content when a fatter man approached and petted her. Without warning the fatter man snapped the dog’s right rear leg. It cracked. We heard the crisp break inside. The dog howled. We thought the worse over. Yet, the elderly men laughed and walked away; the dog still crying – re-learning how to stand. We ate rice and seaweed inside trying to block our ears from her whimpers during lunch. An hour later the fatter man went back outside. He gave the dog some water. Then he fractured the opposite front left leg with a bamboo stick.
The sun rose higher; the heat almost unbearable. Out of pain the dog could not stand nor sit. Its cries turned to muffled sobs. They returned. The fatter man petted the dog for some time. Then, he kicked in the rear left leg. They laughed. The dog’s head fell down. She looked defeated. Its only strong leg shook. We couldn’t turn away nor interfere. During the hottest part of the day, they returned with cigarettes and soju. The dog stared only at the fatter man who wasted no time. He grabbed the thigh and calf of the dog’s last good leg; it snapped like dry wood. The dog cried for death as she collapsed on the dirt.
They drank and smoked by the fence, the fatter man approached the dog one last time after smoking. Finally, he snapped the dying creature’s neck in a swift movement. They spoke to us about the process. “Breaking, adrenaline, tenderizes meat, good for soup, honorable,” disjointed phrases I couldn’t register.
A few villagers sang in their finest clothes when the sky darkened. The dog reappeared, this time in the best bowls they could afford. This is how we said goodbye.
- Nick Seifert