Profits amid a famine

Unloading ships in Fusan (Busan) harbor in 1903. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

The Japanese enclave of Fusan (now part of Busan) in the spring of 1877 was a vibrant and bustling commercial center. The 700 to 800 Japanese men there (there were only about 30 women) were mainly employed in one of the 200 Japanese firms represented at the port. Trade was good ― in fact, in the beginning, it was fantastic and many of the companies reported huge profits.

An examination of the custom reports for November 1876 reveal that the Japanese merchants purchased 5,127 ox hides (each hide was about 1 yen 4 sen), 631 dog pelts (6 sen each), 8,460 eggs (17 eggs per sen), 1,328 fans (2 sen each), peony bark, mountain berries, bones from oxen and whales, shark fins, seaweed, dried sardines, and raw silk. The following month trade increased with the addition of gold, ginseng, cotton cloth, etc., but, some prices began to fluctuate. Just over 9,160 ox hides were sold but they commanded less than a yen per hide; and dog pelts had fallen to just under 6 sen; while eggs, on the other hand, greatly increased in value ― 5,160 eggs were sold at 2.5 eggs to a sen. The change in prices might be attributed to the severe famine that the country was facing at the end of the year.

The Japanese merchants mainly imported large amounts of rice and wheat ― which they purchased cheaply in Japan and sold for a large profit in Fusan ― as well as cloth and dyes. They also brought 120 cotton umbrellas and 159 round umbrellas; 20 expensive saddles (they each cost 8 yen in Japan), and, to help see the items, 100 lanterns and 240 pairs of spectacles. There were also the typical comfort items ― 15 cases of colored-soap, tobacco (with matches) and 42 casks of sake supplemented with 30 sake heating pots.

Watching a ship being unloaded in the harbor in 1903. Robert Neff Collection

Considering the famine, the 4,000 boxes of confectionery (and 120 toothbrushes) seems somewhat galling when you read this description from one of the merchants that appeared in Japanese newspapers:

"It appears that [the famine] has now grown much more severe, the streets are full of corpses of people who have died of starvation, and one cannot bear to look on the appearance of so many people who have not tasted food for seven or eight days. Truly this is the worst famine that has ever been known."

Others wondered why the Korean population did not rise up ― armed with bamboo spears ― and put an end to the government officials who "pretended to be glad that the people were enjoying the blessings of peace, [while] patting [their] well-filled bellies."

Some destitute Korean men (women were not allowed in the enclave) resorted to begging for food when they could not find employment. Sometimes, when it was given, the Japanese complained the Koreans muttered no words of appreciation ― they merely ate what they received.

Of course, unsurprisingly, some people became desperate and resorted to acts more unspeakable than begging.

A street in Fusan (Busan) in 1903. Robert Neff Collection

A Korean father approached a crew of Japanese sailors and offered to sell his seven-year-old son to them for a string of Korean cash (probably less than a yen in value). The sailors, thinking he was joking, countered with a bid of 500 cash (10 sen). The father thought about it for a few minutes and then readily agreed. The astonished sailors declined to buy the boy and instead bought him and his father a meal and gave them 100 cash (2 sen). I like to think the father's desperate act was an effort to ensure his son had a better life ― away from the famine of the port.

Some people resorted to theft. One troubled merchant complained the number of thieves had grown to an unacceptable level due to the famine ― his worst offenders were shoplifters. According to him, "[Koreans] will take a pen in the right hand, and put down the language of the most honoured sages, while with the left they are practicing the style of Little-boy Rat." He also added that the Korean shoplifters' skill surpassed that of "Little-boy Rat" and that "one has to keep a sharp lookout."

Many of you are probably wondering who was Little-boy Rat? He was Nakamura Jirokichi (1797-1831) ― popularly known as Nezumi Kozo (Rat Boy) ― and is one of Japan's most legendary thieves. A mild-mannered commoner by day but a master burglar at night he was said to have robbed the homes of over 100 samurai. One popular explanation for his nickname is that he would carry a bag of rats with him when he burglarized a home. Once inside, he would release these rats and the sounds of their scurrying about would help disguise any noise he made while looting the house. If any of the residents of the house awoke, they would assume the sounds they heard were merely the nocturnal pursuits of the rats.

Bundles of dried fish in 1903. Robert Neff Collection

It seems somewhat ironic the Japanese merchant would compare the Korean shoplifters to Nezumi Kozo because, as popular legend claims, prior to his capture and subsequent execution (beheading) he gave away the money he stole from the rich to the poor. He was the equivalent of England's popular hero ― Robin Hood.

Considering the Japanese merchants were buying a koku (5 bushels) of rice in Japan for under two yen and reselling it in Fusan for 13 yen, perhaps labeling a starving Korean shoplifter as Nezumi Kozo was somewhat appropriate ― at least from his point of view.

A Korean gentleman walking through the streets in 1903. Robert Neff Collection

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.

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