When rumors turn deadly (1): Demons in the wood
For farmers, rain is spiritual. It was believed that precipitation will come at a certain time of the year, and in sufficient quantity to sustain life. Their existence depended on it, and when it failed to fall, famine and death often followed. In the spring of 1924, the rain did not come to the southern part of the peninsula. Nor did it come in the summer. A warm, dry wind blew from the southeast, and the heat became unbearable. The once-luxurious rice paddies became barren stretches of parched, cracked earth. What the drought spared was devoured by swarms of hungry insects. The people suffered. Drinking water was scarce, and the price of rice rose sharply, further exacerbating the misery. Roots, stems and even bark became many people’s daily diet. Beggars roamed the countryside in search of food. But not all of the peninsula suffered from drought. In bitter contrast, the northern Hwanghae Province was ravaged by floods. To the superstitious, the calamity that gripped the peninsula was the result of the gods’ displeasure. Many reasons were given for this anger. Perhaps the offerings
