Watermelons in Joseon: a dangerous delectable

A melon merchant in the late 19th or early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

In Korea, one of the most iconic fruits of summer is the watermelon. There is something almost magical about eating ice-cold watermelon on a sweltering day, but, unfortunately, watermelon is one of the most expensive fruits found in the market ― and this guilty little pleasure might cost you a hefty sum of money.

In the late 19th century, it could cost you more than just money ― your job and your life. Many of the early Westerners living in Korea were convinced that watermelons ― as well as cucumbers ― were contributing factors to the frequent cholera epidemics. As a result, some Westerners banned their Korean staff from consuming watermelon.

Unsurprisingly, the Korean staff were not pleased. According to Edward T. McCarthy, the general manager of the Gwendoline Mine (an English gold mine in present-day North Korea), Korean miners ate great quantities of melons ― even eating the rinds.

It may have been unthinkable to McCarthy, but watermelon rind had several uses and it would be foolish to waste it. The rind was also a part of the language. People were scolded to "stop licking the rind and start eating the flesh" ― in other words, stop hesitating and get on with the task. There is even the old fable that the reason watermelons had so many seeds was to prevent people from eating them too fast. Now watermelons and their numberless seeds are associated with fertility ― considering Korea's falling birthrate, perhaps watermelons should be handed out to newlyweds instead of showering them with rice. But I digress.

In 1901, the Korean Peninsula was suffering severely from a cholera epidemic causing McCarthy to ban all watermelons on the mining concession. The Korean miners regarded this as a cruel and unnecessary step and the situation at the mine quickly grew tense. McCarthy wrote:

"As soon as the Corean miners heard of the new orders prohibiting water-melon eating we nearly had a strike, but though they showed great resentment nothing further happened. Several attempts were made to smuggle the melons into the camp, but our police not only entrapped the culprits, but were given orders to thrash them ― which I have no doubt they did. At all events we succeeded in keeping the camp clear of them, and, in consequence, I believe, of cholera; we had only one case in our camp."

This belief that watermelons contribute to cholera is fairly widespread and even now there are those who associate the fruit with the disease. Some people also suggest that it is unwise to drink water immediately after eating watermelon because it has a negative impact on digestion.

There is a ghost story from the early 1990s that involves watermelons and water. The story sounds like something that came from a television series but the young man who recalled this story insists that it was a "real" ghost story.

A young man carries a load of melons in the late 19th or early 20th century. Robert Neff Collection

Of course, verifying facts in "real" ghost stories is often difficult ― if not impossible ― and the young man failed to indicate how he came to know of this incident. With so little to go on, I felt compelled to employ a certain degree of artistic license in telling his story.

Many years ago (I assume during the Joseon period), there was a small village in Gyeongsang Province that was famed for its delicious watermelons ― especially watermelons that were grown in a field next to a small pond (its name has long since been forgotten). Although it is only speculation, there was something special about the pond's water that caused the melons to grow very large and sweet.

During the harvest season, it was a common practice for small towers or elevated pavilions to be erected in the field so that a guard could be kept to discourage watermelon thieves. It was also the favorite spot of Choi Cheong-ji and Lee Seong-won (two minor government officials) to while away their afternoons playing baduk instead of attending to their work. Of course, their games were not without consequence as they liked to make small wagers on the outcome ― usually nothing more than a few coins or, if the harvest was ready, a couple of watermelons.

One afternoon, after enjoying a winning streak, Choi was returning home with an armful of melons when he passed by the pond. It wasn't uncommon for women to be near the pond as it was a popular place for them to wash laundry. On especially hot days, some of the bolder women even went for a swim. This particular day was one of those.

The tale did not indicate whether or not the woman was attractive but it stressed her youth. Choi paused for a short time and watched her swim effortlessly. Suddenly, she seemed to be struggling and fighting to stay afloat.

The woman then noticed Choi and called out to him for help but Choi, "unwilling to put the melons down, merely watched her sink below the surface of the pond before he ran to the village calling for help." Within a short time, a group of villagers arrived but it was too late ― the woman had disappeared into the pond's depths. A search was conducted and the bottom of the pond dragged, but the corpse was never discovered.

As the months passed, the memory of the drowned woman faded.

The next summer ― during watermelon season ― found Choi and Lee in their familiar haunt, the pavilion in the field, playing baduk and eating watermelon. Choi was in an especially good mood as he had earlier won several games and was poised to win again. Suddenly Choi looked out towards the pond, his eyes bulging as if he was struggling to breathe, and began flailing his arms about in a feeble attempt to defend himself. He muttered several times that he was sorry and begged for mercy before he toppled backward over the side of the pavilion and broke his neck with the fall.

Lee immediately ran to the village for help. A group of men retrieved Choi's body and as they passed the pond, one of the men noticed a corpse in the water. It was the young woman who had drowned the previous year. Many of the villagers were convinced that she had claimed her revenge upon Lee for his callousness. Yet, even with his death, her spirit remained restless and it is still claimed that at night a woman's cry for help can be heard in the vicinity of the pond ― tempting others to join her.

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