“Five Bandits” (1970) By Kim Chiha

The
spring
sun
was
warm,
the
day
pleasant,
the
wind
gentle,
the
clouds
floating
by.
The


five
 bandits,
 each
 brandishing
 a
 golf
 club,
 each
 determined
 to
 win,
 set
 out
 to
 display
 their


miraculous
skills.
The
first
bandit
stepped
forth,
the
one
called
the
business
tycoon,
wearing
a


custom‑made
 suit
 tailored
 of
 bank‑notes,
 a
 hat
 made
 of
 banknotes,
 shoes
 made
 of
 banknotes


and
gloves
knitted
of
banknotes,
with
a
gold
watch,
gold
rings,
gold
buttons,
a
gold
necktie
pin,


gold
cuff
links,
a
gold
buckle,
golden
teeth,
golden
nails,
golden
toenails,
and
golden
zippers,


with
a
golden
watch
chain
dangling
from
his
wiggling
ass.

…

Now
the
second
bandit
steps
forth
with
his
cronies
from
the
National
Assembly.
Here


come
hunchbacks,
alley
foxes,
angry
dogs,
and
monkeys.
Hunched
at
the
waist,
their
eyes
are
as


narrow
and
slanted
as
Ts’ao
Ts’ao.


Lumbering,
rasping,
covering
their
hairy
bodies
with
the


empty
oaths
of
revolution,
coughing
up
mucus,
raising
their
golf
clubs
high
into
the
sky
like


flags,
thunderously
yelling
slogans,
rolling
on
viper‑colored
jagged
floors:


Revolution,
from
old
evil
to
new
evil!


Renovation,
from
illegal
profiteering
to
profiteering
illegally!


Modernization,
from
unfair
elections
to
elections
unfair!

…

Now
the
third
bandit
emerges,
looking
like
a
rubber
balloon
with
viperous
pointed
eyes,


his
lips
firmly
closed.
Portraying
a
clean
government
official,
when
sweets
are
offered,
he
shows


that
he
doesn’t
like
them
by
shaking
his
head.
Indeed,
it
must
be
true.
But
look
at
this
fellow’s


other
 face.
 He
 snoops
 here
 and
 smiles
 there,
 stout,
 impudent,
 sly;
 his
 teeth
 are
 crooked
 and


black
from
an
over
indulgence
in
sweets,
worn
out
until
they
could
decay
no
more.


He
sits
in
a
wide
chair
as
deep
as
the
sea,
before
a
desk
as
high
as
the
sky,
saying
“no


thank
you”
with
one
hand
and
“thank
you”
with
the
other.
He
cannot
do
possible
things,
but
he


can
do
impossible
things;
he
has
piles
of
documents
on
top
of
his
desk
and
bundles
of
money


under
 it.
 He
 acts
 like
 an
 obedient
 shaggy
 dog
 when
 flattering
 superiors,
 but
 like
 a
 snarling


hunting
 dog
 to
 subordinates.
 He
 puts
 public
 funds
 into
 his
 left
 pocket
 and
 bribes
 for
 favors


done
into
his
right
pocket.
His
face,
a
perpetual
mask
of
innocence,
conveys
purity—the
purity of
a
white
cloud.
His
all‑consuming
passion
is
asking
after
the
wellbeing
of
madams
of
deluxe


restaurants.


The
 fourth
 bandit
 steps
 forth,
 a
 big
 gorilla.
 He
 is
 tall,
 reaching
 almost
 to
 the
 heavens.


The
marching
column
of
soldiers
under
his
command
is
as
long
as
China’s
Great
Wall.
He
has


white
tinted
eyes,
a
tiger’s
mouth,
a
wide
nose,
and
a
shaggy
beard;
he
must
be
an
animal.
His


breast
is
adorned
with
colorful
medals
made
of
gold,
silver,
white
copper,
bronze,
and
brass.


Black
pistols
cling
to
his
body.


He
sold
the
sacks
of
rice
meant
to
feed
the
soldiers,
and
filled
the
sacks
with
sand.
He


stole
the
cows
and
pigs
to
be
fed
to
the
soldiers,
and
gave
a
hair
to
each
man.
No
barracks
for


the
 poor
 enlisted
 men
 in
 a
 bitterly
 cold
 winter;
 instead,
 hard
 labor
 all
 day
 to
 keep
 them


sweating.
Lumber
for
the
construction
of
barracks
was
used
for
building
the
general’s
quarters.


Spare
parts
for
vehicles,
uniforms,
anthracite
briquettes,
monthly
allowances,
all
were
stolen.
In


accordance
 with
 military
 law,
 soldiers
 who
 deserted
 their
 units
 because
 of
 hunger
 and


desperation
 were
 arrested,
 beaten
 and
 thrown
 into
 the
 brig,
 and
 harassed
 under
 orders.


University
students
summoned
for
military
service
were
assigned
to
the
general’s
quarters
as


living
 toys
 for
 his
 wanton
 wife.
 Meanwhile
 the
 general
 enjoyed
 his
 cleverly
 camouflaged
 life


with
an
unending
stream
of
concubines.


Now
the
last
bandit
and
his
cronies
step
out:
ministers
and
vice
ministers,
who
waddle


from
obesity,
sediment
seeping
from
every
pore.
With
shifty
mucus‑lined
eyes,
they
command


the
national
defense
with
golf
clubs
in
their
left
hands,
while
fondling
the
tits
of
their
mistresses


with
 their
 right.
 And,
 when
 they
 softly
 write
 “Increased
 Production,
 Increased
 Export
 and


Construction”
 on
 a
 mistress’s
 tits,
 the
 woman
 murmurs
 “Hee‑hee‑hee,
 don’t
 tickle
 me!”
 And


they
 jokingly
 reproach:
 “You
 ignorant
 woman,
 do
 national
 affairs
 make
 you
 laugh?”
 Let’s


export
even
though
we
starve,
let’s
increase
production
even
though
products
go
unsold.
Let’s


construct
a
bridge
across
the
Strait
of
Korea
with
the
bones
of
those
who
have
starved
to
death,


so
we
can
worship
the
god
of
Japan!
Like
slave‑masters
of
olden
times,
they
drive
the
people
to


work
harder
and
longer,
with
the
beating
of
burst
drums
and
the
sounds
of
broken
trumpets,


with
one
aim
in
mind:
to
increase
their
own
wealth.