JEONG DO-SANG
watch the zebras. He isn’t sure at all if and when zebras will be the main topic of the programme again. He hates waiting: waiting is like having a cone of ice cream in his hand.
“Be quick or your dinner will be gone!” threatens his aunt’s angry voice.
He wants to eat while watching the zebras. But his aunt won’t let him do the two things at the same time. His mother would feed him spoonfuls herself as he carried on watching zebras on TV. Suddenly, he misses his mother very much. Did she cross the Mara River safely? She had left Yanji in November last year to go to Korea. She shed a waterfall of tears when she promised her son she would come back for him later and Yông-su trusted her tears rather than her words. Not long after she left, a snowman walked into this small house. It was Aunt Chung-sim, completely covered in snow, who came from somewhere far away.
“What are you doing? Are you listening to me?” The aunt loses her temper and snatchesYông-su’s hand. “Aunt, look! Look at that!” the boy points to the TV screen where the legs of a foal have just slipped into view out of a mother zebra’s behind. The zebra neighs, flaring her nostrils. Other zebras gather around and protect her as she gives birth. Along with the legs comes the head. The mother zebra seems to be struggling. Eventually, the foal drops onto the grass.
“Oooh!” exclaims Aunt Chung-sim.The mother zebra eats up the white membrane in which the foal’s body was wrapped.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” saysYông-su, pointing to the new-born foal. “It is, indeed!” nods the aunt. “Now, let’s go and eat.” She pulls him by the hand. “No! I want to see it.” The boy shakes his head stubbornly. The baby zebra is struggling to stand up. With hands clenched, Yông-su cheers him on: “Get up! Get up! Drink your mummy’s milk!” The baby zebra falls back on the ground twice more before it manages to straighten its legs and stand firm.
“My dear boy, we must leave tonight.We will be going a long way. If you don’t eat now, that’s it; there’ll be no time for any more meals. You’ll be starving.You wouldn’t like that, would you? I beg of you, please, eat now.”
BANIPAL 43 – SPRING 2012 147
