Ajummas Run This

 

Eric carrying a huge potted plant because ajumma told him to

You don’t find this out until you arrive in South Korea, but ajummas are the honey badgers of the ROK. They don’t give a shit about personal space, how old you are, or whether you were completely done with the pop before they take the cup and toss it in the trash. Ajummas mop the bathroom floor in your stall through the space under the door, and you are expected to lift your feet to ensure full cleaning has taken place. These are the women that take the barbeque tongs from your hands because you are clearly not cooking the meat to their satisfaction or push past you in the subway line because their will to board the car is greater than yours. They are to be feared and obeyed, as we have discovered on numerous occasions.

The word ajumma is Korean for a middle-aged, married woman, and typically carries a degree of respect. However, I’ve heard the term used in a derogatory manner, conveying the implication that a woman is particularly fussy, older, or meddling in other people’s business. The insult grows once you realize that ajummas have a certain visage. Their hair is always short and usually permed, and the leggings they tend to wear are apparently required to have a garish pattern. Then there’s the ubiquitous visor. This sun-blocking device has a square foot of red plastic or white paperboard attached to a wide headband, so as not to squash the aforementioned permed hair. Work gloves and a surgical mask, a hand cart piled with flattened cardboard, or a toddling grandchild are all acceptable accessories. Ajummas are hard workers, rarely seen sitting idle, and tend to instill a feeling that you should be working, too. Perhaps this is why, when used in reference to the appropriate age group, the title conveys respect.

On the other hand, these are some pushy dames. Once, as we were leaving a subway station, an ajumma silently handed my husband a tall plant in a heavy ceramic pot. He was so surprised, he simply took it from her. She started to walk away, so we followed her while exchanging glances. She wasn’t so old or sick that we felt we had to help her. Rather, she appeared to be strong enough to give us a beating if we didn’t do what she wanted. It was so strange a situation that I took the picture above. Luckily, her destination turned out to be only a few blocks from the subway. She thanked us with a quick kamsahamnida, and disappeared into her apartment building. In retrospect, neither of us felt we had a choice in the matter. I have often wondered what might have happened if my husband had set the plant down or simply not accepted it from her. I’m fairly confident we would have received a verbal beat down delivered in Korean, probably along the lines of “these dumb Americans,” I’m sure.

Until the next post, keep laughing, learning new things, and eating good food.