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By William Van Zyl (December 2021)
Listen to the dramatised podcast of this story: https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-a6m27-1148599
The grey and blue coloured nutrient-rich placenta swirled around in the large glass bowl before it fell into a small hole with a soft thud. The bloodied mass pulled the severed umbilical cord into the hollow at the base of the Honey Apple tree like a Renault’s suspension coil spring. The coiled cord stretched and then collapsed on top of the mass. The last of the beautiful rich-red blood plasma dripped into the hole.
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A newborn baby cried of hunger in a room. The tiny house, close to the apple, tree woke up. The inexperienced mum is at his side, comforting her baby with loving words.
‘My little one, my sweet baby, are you hungry?’
The little one grabbed the nipple with his spout-shaped searching mouth. After scanning like a heat searching missile, he struck milk. Dong-Hyun’s tiny wee mouth suckles with the force of a breast pump. A small stream of milk runs down the side of his cute mouth and over the soft, tender skin of his loving mother.
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It is Wednesday morning, July 6, 1972, in the small town of Icheon (Gyeonggi-do), just outside Seoul in Korea. Icheon is one of the foremost ceramics centres in the country, famous for its traditional artisans. The smell of active kilns – firing beautiful ceramics around the town – sweeps into the backyard of the tiny house. Icheon and its ceramicists are a vital part of Korea’s cultural heritage and industry. Everyone in the area is familiar with the ceramic smell.
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Several selected items are placed carefully on top of the placenta. The placenta’s blood wraps the metal pilot wings and a school pencil in red; then the blood stains the translucent plastic around the small notebook. It all lays about 400 mm deep in the neatly formed hole under the tree. The half-used HB pencil, the small brown-cover notebook – protected in a waterproof translucent plastic bag – and the pilot wings insignia are all positioned on top of the three-day-old brain-shaped birth sack – still freezing cold. It looks strange in the small rectangular shaped grave. Several of the notebook’s pages are filled with writing, and a simple sketch sits proudly on page 3. On page 4 is a poem written to the newborn, Dong-Hyun. Could this be a request? A hope, a message, maybe a belief?
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On 5 April 1994 – twenty-two years later, now grown up – Dong-Hyun is writing his final exam paper. He is about to qualify with a bachelor’s in Food Technology from the University of Seoul. Dong-Hyun’s father – Jung-Hoon – is a little disappointed. When he placed the pilot wings on the placenta – twenty-two years ago at the base of that Honey Appletree – the simple sketch of a fighter plane in the small brown-coloured school notebook and the graphite pencil was his hope Dong-Hyun would become a good scholar and a fighter pilot. However, it did not all work out that way.
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At 12:10 am that night – under cover of darkness – the silhouette of a spade and the figure of an adult man is etched against the white wall of the tiny house. It is a beautiful full moon night. The bright stars stud the clear black sky over Korea. A couple of magical Astro-clouds creates a mysterious backdrop to the night sky. Jung-Hoon’s outline and contours are clearly visible on the stark white kitchen wall. He is carrying the spade in his hand.
He slowly walks to the apple tree. He looks around and starts digging at the base of the tree. After 15 minutes, he stops. He looks around. He carefully fills the hole, presses the soil down with his feet, and camouflages the area with loose leaves. He disappears into his shed.
‘It is not there; it’s gone!’ he thinks. His mind is racing.
‘Where could it be? Did someone move it? Is that the reason why his son did not turn out to be a pilot?’
He is perplexed. What happened to the pencil, the pilot wings, and the notebook? He knows the placenta would turn into soil. It has been twenty long years. The metal badge, and waterproofed notebook, should definitely be still there.
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‘My love, I have something to ask you?’ said Jung-Hoon.
‘Yes, what do you want to ask, my dear?’ his wife Yu-Jun replied.
I buried Dong-Hyun’s placenta with a couple of symbols under the Honey Apple tree. Please forgive me, but I dug it up last week. I could not find anything. Surely the badge and notebook – wrapped in solid plastic – should still be there?
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I am absolutely sure.’
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Yu-Jun – Jung-Hoon’s wife of twenty-five years is tossing and turning in her bed.
‘Should I keep the secret, or should I tell him the truth?’
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‘Jung-Hoon, I have something to tell you. But, please don’t be mad at me.’
‘Is it a secret?’
Yes, you are going to be very angry with me,’ said his wife.
‘Is it about Dong-Hyun’s placenta?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Save your energy telling me about the notebook; you have to forgive me. I went through your personal diaries, and I found 2 pages from the notebook. The sketch of the fighter plane and the poem.’
‘Please forgive me. Please forgive me!’ she cried.
‘Have you replaced it with culinary objects and writing?’
‘Forgive me, I did.’
‘Have you moved the placenta?’
‘Please don’t be angry with me. I did move it close to the kitchen.’
‘Everything is now clear. You wanted him to become a chef, right?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I told you years ago I had these dreams of Dong-Hyun becoming a famous chef.’
‘So you buried the placenta close to the kitchen. What did you place in the hole with it?’
‘Sorry, my husband, I wrote a different poem, and I changed the sketch. I also removed the wings, but I left the pencil.’
‘Did you include anything else?’
‘Yes, I did. I included my mother’s rolling pin.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘My mother always wanted me to become a chef, but as you know, I never got the opportunity to study. I thought I could make my mother’s dream come true through Dong-Hyun.’
‘I am very disappointed. However, I know your passion for cooking. I have accepted his future culinary career.’
‘Thank you for understanding! I am so happy for Dong-Hyun!’
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The spade made a scraping sound as it touched something with a cylindrical shape.
Husband and wife are on their knees just outside the kitchen.
‘There it is!’
‘Look! It’s still in pretty good shape.’
Jung-Hoon lifts the hardwood rolling pin out of the hole. Slightly rotten around the edges. The two handles are gone. Decayed way after twenty-two years. Only the main cylinder remained.
‘That’s why Dong-Hyun chose to study as a chef. Your mother’s rolling pin did the hard work all these years from this hole. It is all clear to me.’
‘There is something else I have placed inside the hole.’
‘What?’
‘Dig over there.’
Jung-Hoon took the spade and started digging carefully.
‘There is something!’
‘What! It is a jar’.
Jung-Hoon took the long cylindrical shaped glass jar out of the hole and wiped all the loose ground off.
‘What is in here?’
He turned the lid. But the years in the hole has cemented the top to the jar.
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After several attempts, the lid gave way. Inside the jar was a pair of silver-coated chopsticks.
‘These chopsticks will make Dong-Hyun a chef. The silver will discolour and alert the person using it if there is any poison in the food.’
‘Yes, I know the Korean belief.’
‘Why did you include it with the placenta?’ asked the husband.
‘I wanted to make sure that Dong-Hyun stayed safe for all these years. The chopsticks would have warned him if someone had any evil intentions towards him. He was kept safe by the silver chopsticks.’ said the wife.
Jung-Hoon slides the chopsticks out of the jar.
‘Look! The silver is discoloured!’
‘Poisoned!’
‘What could that mean?’
‘Do you think Dong-Hyun is at risk?’
‘I think so, but what could it be?’
—————-0———————
Dong-Hyun is lying paralysed on his bed. It is 6 am, and he has gone into a coma during the night. He breathes with much difficulty.
—————0————————-
His parents are hammering of the door.
‘Dong-Huyn, open the door, open the door!’
The bathroom window is open, and Jung-Hoon helps Yu-Jun to get inside. She opens the door for her husband.
‘Be quick, look for him?’
They find Dong-Huyn unconscious in his bed.
‘Wake up, wake up!’
They shake him, but there is no response. His mum placed her hand on his forehead; has a high fever. Then, they took all the blankets off him.
‘A scorpion, look, there is a scorpion! Be careful!’
Jung-Hoon grabs a shoe lying on the carpet and destroys the giant scorpion.
‘Quick, we have to get an ambulance!’
Yu-Jun takes her mobile phone out of her handbag
and phone 1222.
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Mesobuthus martensii is a species of scorpion in the family Buthidae. Its common names include Chinese scorpion, Manchurian scorpion, Chinese armor-tail scorpion and Chinese golden scorpion. Despite its common name, this scorpion is not only found in Manchuria or China, but also in Mongolia and Japan. Its preferred habitat is warm, dry areas with little vegetation. By Já – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3144152
Dong-Huyn slowly opened his eyes.
‘Where am I?’
‘You are safe; you are in hospital. We are here for you!’
‘A scorpion stung you in your bed. You are fine now.’
‘That’s not all. We’ll tell you the whole story later.’
THE END
The practices around birth and the placenta: Exploring the beliefs of the different cultures from around the world:
“In 2010, medical anthropologists Daniel Benyshek and Sharon Young studied placenta traditions across 179 societies. Among the 109 communities that held placenta rituals, there were 169 different disposal methods, including burial, incineration, placement in a specific location, or eating the placenta. Many cultures believe that the placenta is a close relative to the child and attribute human qualities to the placenta. Ancient Egyptians and other cultures believed that the placenta was the child’s secret helper or guardian angel. In Cambodia, the placenta is considered to be the origin of the baby’s soul. Therefore, the burial place is surrounded by spiked plants to protect the baby’s soul from evil spirits. In many traditional communities, people believe that the condition of the placenta will predict the child’s future skills and abilities. Also, it is believed that improper handling of the placenta can affect the health of the mother or the child. Thus, rituals for the handling of the placenta must be performed precisely and with great care. Many of these rituals involve washing the placenta in a special liquid, wrapping it within certain fabrics or plants, placing it in a specific vessel, and burying the placenta in an appropriate location. Quite a few cultures believe that it is important to pick an auspicious place to bury the placenta. In Turkey, if parents wish their child to be devout, they bury the placenta in the courtyard of a mosque, whereas if they want their child to care for animals, they bury it in a stable. In Malaysia, after the placenta is prepared with salt and tamarind, it is buried along with books and pencils under the doorway of the child’s house. The Malay believe that following this tradition will ensure that the child will be hardworking and a good student. But in Ukraine, the beliefs were the opposite: the midwife must not bury the placenta in a doorway or any place where it would be stepped over, or the mother would become infertile.
The Maori people of New Zealand use the same word for placenta and land: “Whenua”. They believe that the placenta burial symbolises the connection between the newborn baby and mother earth.
On the Indonesian island of Bali, the native tradition is to enclose the placenta in a coconut shell and hang it from a tree in the village graveyard. It is believed this will protect the child from illness and misfortune. The village of Bayung Gede has become a tourist attraction due to the hundreds of placentas hanging in its graveyard. Indonesia’s Ministry of Education and Culture declared the cemetery a national heritage site in Oct. 2020.”
Credit: Liat Ben-Senior. To learn more, visit https://parentsguidecordblood.org/en/news/honoring-placenta-different-cultures
Liat Ben-Senior holds an MBA and MSc in Human Genetics from the Sackler School of Medicine of Tel-Aviv University, Israel. She has over 15 years’ experience in Marketing and Digital Marketing in the field of Biotech and Life Sciences. Her scientific background includes immunology and molecular biology research, both in academia as well as industry. Her management background includes business development and commercialization of early stage medical devices, cellular, and small molecule therapies. For over a decade, Liat worked with CReATe Cord Blood Bank as Business Manager. At CReATe, Liat focused on educating expectant parents and health care professionals about the cord blood banking options available in the Canadian market. Starting in 2020, Liat is the Marketing Manager at Anova Fertility & Reproductive Health. Liat strongly believes in empowering expectant parents so they can make an informed decision. To learn more about cord blood banking, visit Parent’s Guide to Cord Blood Foundation at https://parentsguidecordblood.org/en/news/honoring-placenta-different-cultures
Christian beliefs and the placenta:
Christians believe that the Word of God is the ultimate authority on destiny – the placenta has no role to play. It is medical waste. It is the Lord that directs our lives. See the great scriptures on destiny.
Proverbs 20:24
It is the Lord who directs your life, for each step you take is ordained by God to bring you closer to your destiny. So much of your life, then, remains a mystery!
Psalm 139:15 NKJV
My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Copyright © 2021 by William Van Zyl
Silver Chopsticks Miraculously Save Dong-Hyun’s Life.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion
thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Five House Publishing (New Zealand)
First Publishing, 2021
More eBooks and articles are available at https://fivehousepublishing.com/
More about the author at http://williamvanzyl.com/
