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A Korean gentleman in a smoky alley, circa 1912 / Robert Neff Collection |
In the summer of 1883, a resident in Fusan (now known as Busan) wrote that he often encountered Koreans "sleeping haphazard by the wayside" during the daytime because they were unable to sleep because of the swarms of mosquitoes that ruled the night. According to him, mosquito nets had only recently been introduced to the Korean market and they must have seemed a godsend to those who could afford them.
Many Westerners were curious as to how Koreans were able to keep these winged little blood-suckers at bay. Sometimes they offered theories such as in July 1884 when George C. Foulk, a naval officer attached to the U.S. legation in Seoul, described ― in a letter to his parents ― the average Korean homes:
"In every house there is at least one little floored space. Under this a fire is built, in the summer at night, as well as always in winter, and over the floor heated this way the people sleep. I suppose the fire is lighted in summer to smoke out mosquitoes."
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A Korean gentleman with his pipe, circa 1900s / Robert Neff Collection | Women and children swinging in northern Korea circa 1940 / Robert Neff Collection |
In 1887, a female journalist from the U.S. reported there was a large conical hat that served as an "umbrella and roof both to its wearer, a seat on the ground, a shelter from rain, a refuge from smoke and mosquitoes indoors, and a considerable piece of property that only costs 160 cash, or 10 American cents on the first investment."
According to Horace N. Allen, during the Dano celebration of the fifth lunar month, "strong swings are suspended from suitable trees, or if no suitable tree is at hand, massive frames are erected and topped with boughs. On these swings several men will at times perform together. The observance of this custom is supposed to mitigate somewhat the plague of mosquitoes during the ensuing summer."
But Westerners here took a different approach; they spent considerable time and money putting up mosquito nets over windows ― but even that wasn't enough. In 1893, Sallie Swallen complained:
"You cannot know how bad the mosquitoes are out here. We have mosquito-bar at our windows, but they were not enough. Two or three nights we were dreadfully bothered, so we had to put a large Chinese net over our bed and then tuck it down all under the mattress, and then if we were not careful they would slip in when we were getting in."
Apparently, with a little care, they eventually were able to keep the nets in place and she reported that "for the last 2 nights we have slept fine."
People could sleep under their mosquito nets at night but during the day they were defenseless. Elizabeth Greathouse, whose son was an American adviser in the Joseon government, complained bitterly: "The day mosquitoes are very familiar, almost too affectionate for comfort and a fan is a necessary article just now."
The U.S. legation completely mosquito-proofed their living quarters. Sallie Sill ― the wife of the U.S. ambassador ― described the efforts they made in 1895:
"We have been busy getting the doors and windows (and they are too numerous to mention) all covered with netting to keep out the insects and today the house seems to be free from them, which is a great luxury."
Even the front porch was completely encased with netting and became a popular place for them and their guests to sit in the evenings. She declared it "the coolest and most comfortable place in Seoul."
Not everyone liked the bother of mosquito netting. Ms. Greathouse was determined not to put up mosquito nets because she claimed she "could not breathe under one." She soon changed her mind after enduring several sleepless nights and concluded the Korean mosquitoes were the most numerous and worst pests she had ever encountered. She had her son go out and buy the rough netting and then she sewed it into the proper shapes needed for her bed and windows.
The following morning she wrote: "Had a splendid sleep last night, the mosquito net is a success. It is pretty light blue and ornamented."
Sometimes a little discomfort is a small price to pay to have a good night's rest or to help safeguard one's life.