Waiting for a Wide Horse Sky. Elaine Kennedy

near the city centre by two Korean men who spoke only broken English. We went up to the top floor in a lift and then they rang the doorbell. Up until then I thought I was being given an apartment of my own. Then Myong Ai, the owner of the apartment, and one of the teachers at my middle school, came to the door. I was so disappointed.’ Marilyn looked depressed. If even just one of us had their own apartment everything would be so much better.

      ‘Then I was proudly shown the double bed in the only bedroom,’ I continued. ‘It had a mattress but no bedclothes. They asked me if I would mind sharing the bed with Myong-Ai. I told them I would mind. I really expected that they would have to find me somewhere else to live but Myong-Ai said it would be quite all right. She showed me a tiny closet where she said that she would be happy to sleep on the floor.’

      At this point both of us dissolved into hysterical laughter which drew the attention of a group of westerners at a nearby table. Two of them, a tall, thin, thirtyish man and an exceptionally large woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, came over to introduce themselves.

      ‘We haven’t seen you here before. My name’s Berny Schramm and this is Lorraine Bergit and these …’ He waved in the direction of the rest of his group, who in turn acknowledged the two of us ‘… well, these are our support group. We all meet here once a week.’

      The waitress came then with our order and Berny and Lorraine took seats at the table and ordered drinks.

      ‘Sorry if I seem nosy,’ said Lorraine, ‘but I overheard you mention schools. I’ve been teaching here for eight months. How are you finding it?’

      ‘Well, I haven’t started yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve only been to my school for one day to meet everyone. I’ve just moved into an apartment with a teacher from the school I will be working at until I start at the Teacher Training Institute.’

      ‘Be careful not to give out too much of your personal information,’ warned Berny. ‘Koreans are notorious gossips. I’ve been here for two years and after the first month I wanted to know why they asked so many personal questions. I got the same answer from them all; during the war they needed to know as much as possible for security reasons. I pointed out that the war has been over for nearly fifty years. I refuse to answer any questions now.’

      Lorraine nodded her agreement.

      ‘I was given the same story. Because I’m so big the women teachers want to know what size clothes I wear. If I leave a coat or cardigan hanging up, groups of them dare each other to read the labels and then they giggle over the results. I told them I don’t understand how knowing someone’s measurements could help security,’ she laughed and then continued, ‘I tell them, too, that my father is Danish … descended from the Vikings who used to terrorise Europe by raping and pillaging, but my father realises that it was a long time ago and he can’t do that now. I don’t know if they understood but it made me feel better.’ She again burst into infectious laughter.

      We met a lot of new friends that night. As different people came in Berny and Lorraine introduced us and encouraged us to come regularly to ‘Friday’s’.

      ‘It’s almost nine o’clock,’ Berny pointed out. ‘You know there’s a curfew, don’t you? We’d better head for the buses; they stop running at ten o’clock,’

      ‘Is that for everyone?’ I asked.

      ‘Oh, yes, definitely. It’s one of the laws still in place since the Korean war,’ explained a pretty American girl sitting across the aisle.

      I was not convinced but I thought about Marilyn’s need to be home early.

      ‘You heard about the curfew, did you?’ I asked her when I got the chance to interrupt a group conversation. Marilyn said nothing but the look on her face said she knew. The restaurant was emptying quickly.

      ‘I hate taking orders like this,’ Marilyn said angrily. ‘But it’s a bit far for a taxi … cost me a fortune. I’ll have to take a bus, but I’ll still be a bit late, won’t I?’ Her mischievous smile was returning.

      ‘Come over to my place on Saturday and we can find something fun to do.’

      ‘What about Myong-Ai?’

      ‘She’ll be working on Saturday. School still operates. Phone me and we’ll make some arrangements.’

      I walked with Marilyn to the bus stop. I had decided to walk home myself so I could think. I wondered what was happening with Olga and Amos. Tomorrow, I thought, I would phone them.

      Marilyn arrived early on Saturday morning. She banged loudly on the door, stripped her boots off and threw them into a corner of the entrance way, handed me a paper bag full of sweet bread rolls from the bakery in the laneway below and slumped into a lounge chair.

      ‘Myong-Ai’s not home is she?’ she asked in a half whisper.

      I shook my head and held back the impulse to laugh at the way Marilyn had become so quiet after making such a racket coming in.

      ‘No. She left early for school and she’ll go to visit her parents when she finishes work.’

      ‘So we have the apartment to ourselves for the whole day. That’s a relief.’

      ‘She’s not so bad, you know.’

      ‘I’m not ready for meeting her yet, that’s all.’

      ‘We could go somewhere if you like,’ I ventured.

      ‘Maybe later.’ Marilyn paused and looked at Myong-Ai’s computer. ‘I really need to write some letters, to complain about my accommodation. It’s only been a week and I’m already going crazy.’

      ‘You could do that if you like while I do my laundry. I don’t think Myong-Ai would mind if you used the computer.’

      ‘What about you? Don’t you want to make a complaint? Neither of us has had our contract honoured.’

      ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I don’t feel at home here and I don’t like the way that everything I say or do gets reported back to the women teachers at the school. Myong-Ai tells me what’s been said and the comments about it every night.’

      ‘Then we should write joint letters. It would carry more weight.’

      ‘I suppose so.’

      ‘You don’t seem too fussed.’ Marilyn sounded annoyed.

      ‘It’s not that. I’d love to have my own place. It’s just that, well, Myong-Ai never complains about having me here and look where she sleeps in her own apartment.’ I made a dramatic gesture towards the tiny cupboard room and we both fell into irrational laughter. It was all just so ridiculous.

      Most of the morning was spent drafting letters of complaint. By then we were hungry, so, while I got changed and ready to go out to find a restaurant nearby, Marilyn printed out the letters ready for signing and took the chance to explore the job situation on internet.

      ‘If I can’t get my own apartment I’ll need to find another job,’ she told me.

      ‘You really are desperate aren’t you?’ I said, not really taking her seriously. Over lunch we talked about this possibility.

      We ate in a small restaurant in the downstairs lane and had not long returned when Myong-Ai came home. At the same time the phone rang. It was Olga, and I talked quietly to her while Myong-Ai spoke with Marilyn.

      ‘Why don’t you want to stay where you are living?’ Myong-Ai and Marilyn had already discussed the letters.

      ‘I can’t live like that. It’s not our culture for an adult to be living with another family and treated like a child.’

      ‘Would you like me to speak to the family and tell them how you feel?’

      ‘No!’ Marilyn said forcefully, her eyes widening. ‘I am quite capable of handling this myself. I just want what I am entitled to under my contract.’