Windfall of Money as a Side Business — 5
"The truth is, the county's been telling all the village heads to each take on a government support project — that started before you even moved here, Yoonho."
Mrs. Han Su-ja continued her explanation.
"With the population shrinking, there's more than one village on the verge of disappearing. So we were already committed to gathering the residents' opinions and submitting an application before the year was out."
"And that's why the solar farm project came up?"
"That's right."
As it turned out, not everyone among the original residents of Ugok 2-ri had approved the solar project.
Apparently, a religious organization owned a mountain in Ugok 2-ri and announced plans to install a massive solar panel complex there. The other residents had pushed back hard. Even the newcomers running pensions, restaurants, and cafes along the river joined in, blockading the road leading into the organization's property.
So that infamous rural 'gil-mak' — blocking the road — was what set off the brawl.
I'd quietly worried about the same thing myself when I decided to move to the countryside. That's why, even when I found a house I loved, I automatically ruled out any property where the access road crossed private land. If the owner of that land decided to block the right of way, my house and plot would become landlocked.
No car can reach your front door, and suddenly everything becomes a headache.
Home repairs, septic tank servicing, package deliveries, 119 ambulances, LPG gas refills — all of it becomes impossible. It looked like the religious organization was living that exact nightmare. They'd built religious facilities, dormitories, even a lecture hall for education on a mountain several times the size of a soccer field — and with the road completely blocked, they were in serious trouble.
If they'd wanted the solar project so badly, they should have held a public hearing. Or aligned themselves with the village head first. What good did it do to declare, "I'm installing solar panels on my own land, what business is it of yours?"
Anyway.
"So our village is absolutely required to take on a government support project too?"
"Exactly. I hear they even signed a pledge to start projects one by one — and now it's become a real problem."
Mrs. Han Su-ja was trimming scallions for the wild boar marinade when she brought her knife down on the cutting board with a sharp thock.
"Think about it."
"Uh — th-think about what?"
"What business could our village possibly run? We're nothing but elderly folks and empty houses!"
"Can't we do the vacant house project?"
I'd been mulling it over the whole time. The idea was to try something profitable other than the solar farm.
"We repair all the vacant houses sitting around unused and turn them into a chon-cance."
"Chon, chon... what?"
"You know, like Airbnb — we rent out the empty houses. Guests can do short-term stays or experience country living. I've heard the government has programs that fund repairing vacant houses so people can actually live in them."
"But even if we fix them up, what good does it do if no one comes?"
Mrs. Han Su-ja's face was clouded with a deep sense of defeat as she went on.
"Honestly, who'd want to come live in our village? There are no jobs, nothing but old people."
"You could have the younger generation work the land on behalf of the elders, or even commute to jobs in Ugok 2-ri. Apparently they're in an uproar over there because they can't find workers."
Han Mija's husband, Bang Jeongsoo, had said he earned 150,000 won a day at a tomato farm. He got Saturdays and Sundays off since delivery trucks didn't run — a five-day workweek. That added up to a 3-million-won monthly salary.
Of course, he'd need to find other work outside tomato harvest season.
In the off-season, he could lease land, grow crops, and sell them. Just like Han Mija had done, he could pick mugwort, make mugwort rice cakes, and sell them at the market. Or, like my farming school classmate Park Seok-tae, he could take out a 300-million-won farming subsidy loan and bet everything on one all-or-nothing harvest.
There are plenty of ways. It's just that nobody's tried.
I gathered my thoughts and turned to Mrs. Han Su-ja.
"I'll work even harder at my job as Pyeongcheong County's PR ambassador. If I focus especially on promoting our village, wouldn't that do the trick?"
"If the county backs our village... honestly, that'd be far better than the solar farm. The moment they clear-cut the mountain and prop up those ugly black panels, every last mountain herb and pine mushroom is gone for good."
One down — Mrs. Han Su-ja was on my side.
What would the village head think?
"Ah, wild boar's gotta be galbi-jjim! What are you talking about? Deep-fried it? Stop that, would you? He wasn't even the one who caught it!"
The village head was completely absorbed in the boar debate. Sensing my eyes on him, he turned my way and boomed a question.
"What do you think? Galbi-jjim has to be the best, doesn't it?"
"Ah, yes, yes."
"Now hold on, Yoonho my boy! Have you ever actually eaten wild boar before?"
The legendary hunter, Grandfather Sang-jong, was appealing to me for backup, sending desperate signals with his mournful eyes — take my side, please.
"With wild boar, nothing beats frying it and then braising it in five-spice sauce."
Over in the next village, they said, residents had come to blows over whether to allow a solar farm or not.
In our village, the debate never stopped — over the most delicious way to eat wild boar.
So the elders of our village truly were serious about their food.
The next day, much the same scene played out at the village meeting.
"If they clear the mountain for that solar-whatsit, what happens to the fernbrake? The bellflower shoots, the aralia shoots?"
"What about us beekeepers? I live for splitting acacia honey and chestnut honey with my children every year!"
"And the chestnuts? The pine mushrooms?"
"Oh, no! No way! I heard that in An-gol they went ahead with a solar project, and during the rainy season a whole wall of mud came pouring down on them. I'm too old to die like that!"
The elders raised their voices, declaring that the village could have its solar farm after they were dead and buried.
Phew. Thank goodness.
Our village, I decided, would be passing on the solar farm entirely.
The village head didn't seem particularly interested in the solar project either. But.
"If we don't do solar, we have to do something else. So listen carefully, because we'll decide by vote. You really do need to pay attention!"
The village head began listing the government support programs.
"There's the Rural Experience Village program, the Rural Tourism Site program, the Rural Festival Support program, the Rural Vacant House program, the Rural Job Creation program... to name a few."
"But when do we eat the wild boar?"
"Yoonho caught it, they say? Good heavens, Sang-jong! Time to surrender that hunting license, old man! Hahaha!"
"It's good having a young man around, though. Isn't it?"
The elders showed zero interest in the government programs. They seemed to have firmly made up their minds that nothing would change no matter what they did.
The village head shot me a look of despair.
"What did I tell you? This is exactly what I meant."
"That's why you should go with the vacant house project. I'll help."
The vacant house project had the lowest odds of failure. And if we were going to demolish or repair those crumbling empty houses anyway, it would keep the village from turning into a ghost town.
"Alright. But the proper order is to ask the residents' opinion, so we do need the vote."
The village head raised his voice so every elder could hear.
"From this moment on, if there's a project you like, you raise your hand high. Understood? And if a project is chosen, you're expected to take part in the village project. Now then — first up, the Rural Experience Village program! Anyone? Anyone at all?"
Ballpoint pen in hand, the village head swiveled his head this way and that, checking for raised hands.
At that moment, the village's most prominent elder — and legendary hunter — Grandfather Sang-jong spoke up.
"If a young man's willing to take on a project, you back him. What's all this hand-raising nonsense for?"
"I approve!"
"Me too."
"That's right, Yoonho even caught us a wild boar. Let's back him up."
"Can we eat already?"
"Even if we can't, let's call it done!"
At Grandma Mak-sun's words, everyone burst out laughing.
Only the village head, who'd been taking the whole thing deathly seriously, set down his pen and said, "Oh, forget it. Our village has more empty houses than anything, and if capable young Yoonho is willing to lead the charge — bang, bang, bang! It's decided! Everyone pitches in with whatever Yoonho takes on. Understood?"
"Got it, got it."
"Just clearing out all those vacant houses will feel good."
"Now we eat, right?"
"Yes. Now we eat. Let's have a round of applause for young Kim Yunho, catcher of the wild boar!"
Whaaaap!
The elders clapped with bright, cheerful smiles.
This is embarrassing.
Flustered, I scratched the back of my head, then sprang to my feet and bowed.
"Well then, I ask for your generous support with the vacant house project going forward. Let's go, our village!"
"Hooray!"
"Attaboy!"
When the full village meeting finally wrapped up, it was time at last to taste the wild boar.
"So this is what wild boar tastes like."
It was like eating Iberico pork hind leg. Mrs. Han Su-ja and Han Mija had marinated it and let it rest overnight, so there was far less of the gamey smell than I'd expected.
They'd even pureed fruit into the marinade, they said.
Persimmons hung heavy from the trees all over the village. With no one bothering to pick them, the birds pecked at them until the stems softened and the fruit dropped to rot in the dirt. But the ever-diligent Han Mija had gathered the persimmons and made a special marinade from them.
The sweetness had this soft, ripe-persimmon note to it.
Galbi-jjim, five-spice braised boar, wild boar kimchi jjim, even crisp-fried wild boar tonkatsu.
Everything was genuinely delicious.
"Tell me, would you like to get your hunting license? I've got a gun, and if you earn the certification, I'd like to give it to you."
Grandfather Sang-jong leaned in beside me, pouring me a shot of soju.
"Every winter the village head nags me to go after the boars, and I'm turning 85 this year. If I slip and fold my spine the wrong way, isn't that the end of this life right there?"
"You never actually enjoyed hunting, then?"
"The days when hunting was fun were thirty years behind me. But I know how to shoot — what am I supposed to do about that?"
With boars appearing and nothing in the village but old folks, Grandfather Sang-jong had shouldered his rifle every single winter to hunt them. He said that every time he stepped out his front gate, he wondered whether this would be his last day.
Killed by a boar's attack, or tumbling down some steep ravine — he figured an accident was bound to catch him eventually.
He was the hero of this village.
I had never once considered getting a hunting license. But living out here in the mountains, it did seem like a shooting certification might come in handy someday.
"I did earn a reward leave once in the army — my marksmanship was that good."
"Is that so? Then you'll have that certification in no time. Someone in our village needs to know how to handle a gun. That way, even after I'm gone, someone will still be here to catch the boars."
"The way you dismantled that boar yesterday — you were incredibly strong, sir."
"Haha, that's just experience. You learn the tricks, so you don't waste strength. Anyway — I'm taking it as given that you'll start preparing for your hunting license."
"Yes, sir."
When I answered without hesitation, Grandfather Sang-jong patted the back of my hand.
"Haha. Thanks to you, I think I can live out my days a little more at ease. Thank you. Truly, thank you."
"You've worked hard for a long time, sir."
That was no empty pleasantry. Grandfather Sang-jong was one of the people who had protected our village.
"Ah, and one more thing! The damage the boar did to your house — report it to the county office. They're required to compensate you."
"Yes, I heard from the village head. I'm planning to submit the photos along with his incident report to the county office tomorrow."
"Good, good."
Grandfather Sang-jong took a contented sip of his drink, then went on.
"But do you know about this? They say when a boar breaks into your house and goes on a rampage, a windfall follows."
"I've heard the story about the elephant that escaped a children's zoo, trashed a restaurant, and the owner struck it rich afterward."
"Haha. Right, it's just like that. I came into a bit of money after something like that happened to me too. I'd say a very good thing is coming your way soon enough, young man."
Good things were already happening to me nonstop — how much better could it get?
And yet, as it turned out, I was wrong. Truly wonderful news came pouring in, one after another.