A professor in the department of English Language and Literature of a Korean university writes about her experience at the event in the Korean Catholic Times.
Since visiting the DMZ this past March for a world literature event, indelible images and words have lingered in her mind. It felt all the more real because the place where those who crossed over from a place rife with violence and death spoke of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace was the very site of our division—the DMZ. In that solemn land, she remembers the word: 'Ubuntu'.
Among the invited artists was Ismael Beah, a former child soldier in Africa. He was born in Sierra Leone, West Africa, but lost his family at the age of 12 due to a civil war and was conscripted as a child soldier. It is said that around 10,000 children became child soldiers at the time. Beah remarks that in war, one “must learn how to deal with madness very quickly.” Having wandered through scenes of slaughter and revenge, learning how to kill and survive, he is rescued by UNICEF by chance and escapes the war. Attending a protective school, he quits drugs and learns the way back to being a child. Now a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador, Bea says, “Every child is a hope.” Bea, who now lives as a human rights activist and writer, was full of humor and had a wonderful low voice. At dinner, Louis Armstrong's song<What a Wonderful World> He sang it brilliantly. During the interview, Bea told the story of a boy soldier friend. He said that his soldier friend had both of his hands severed by the enemy. The soldier who cut off his friend's hands was also a boy soldier dragged to the battlefield. He was captured and came face-to-face with the one whose hands he had cut off. The friend whose hands were cut off asks, “Why did you cut off my hands?” The enemy boy soldier replies, “I was told that if I didn’t cut off your hands, they would cut off both of our hands.” What do you think the friend replied? “That’s a relief, at least your hands remain.” And this is the story of how he forgave the soldier who had cut off his hands. This unbelievable, vivid story struck me like a living illustration of one of the most difficult parts of the Bible to understand. “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other cheek also … Give to the one who asks, and do not refuse the one who wants to borrow.” It is a passage that always raises a series of questions. What made forgiveness possible?The answer lay in Ubuntu. This word, which symbolizes the spirit of peace in Africa, means “I am because you are.” How many events in our lives are truly difficult to forgive? But still, in the end, as I faced the person speaking of Ubuntu and echoed those words, I said “Amen” in my heart. It is a phrase that brings one to their knees.
If war reveals human barbarity most clearly, then the forgiveness of a child soldier reveals the greatness of humanity that barbarity cannot destroy. Ubuntu. Because you are, I am, and we are. Thinking of those suffering from war even now and hoping that children—the seeds of hope—will smile again, I scatter this newly learned word like a seed. Ubuntu, Ubuntu.
