In Korea, one frequently sees bent over old women walking around. Their backs are painfully bent into acute angles. People say it is a symptom of a lifetime spent in the rice fields. It is explained with both sympathy and longing. On Korea’s mantle is the stamp of progress. Progress at all costs, it sometimes seems. But we are not so far from the 70’s and 80’s when Korea was still widely impoverished and under military dictatorship. There is a pride in, and a longing for, that time. Not an actual longing - progress at all costs - but a wistful appreciation of better selves.

The bent over old women are a revered well of traditional pride. They are universally addressed as ‘Grandmother’. They push into lines with gaunt hands that are but a jangle of knuckles and sinew. But it is accepted. They have earned the right with their perseverance and suffering. It is a small trophy to their survival.

But I don’t believe a bit of it.

Oh I did. Of the horror they survived at the hands of the Japanese. Of the long cold hardship they withstood even after released from that yoke. Of the drastic changes they have had to adapt to in more recent years. I believed every bit of it. Until the day I saw one of these Ancients straighten up.

One was walking along the street behind a young boy, carrying in one hand a box of some sort wrapped in a scarf. The other hand was held in front of her in an awkward purchase for balance. She walked with tender steps, as though sneaking up on the young boy. The boy suddenly runs off, leaving the old woman behind.

Did I see that though? The ancient lunged just as the boy took off. I balked. Missing the boy, she stood up straight and cursed. For my own amusement, I had just noted how like to a stalker this old woman looked, sneaking up on an unsuspecting young boy. And then I see that it is not just a fancy I have dreamed up. The devilish old thing had been stalking the young boy.

I have since noticed that these bent over, revered crones- the pride of a proud nation- they do stalk the young. They are clever about it. They must have some of that magic that everyone knows the ancient orientals have. I never see the catch, I haven’t even seen the lunge again. The one time was an anomaly. But there are straight old women and crooked ones, and the crooked ones are always following the young.

I watch them stalking but never see them getting. And no one believes me.