잼버리와 태풍 카눈 소식으로 대한민국 8월의 시작은 무덥고 어수선했습니다. 하지만 태풍 카눈은 새만금에서 잼버리를 조기 철수의 명분을 안기고, 느릿하게 움직이더니 북쪽 평양 부근에서 소멸되었다는 소식입니다. 하지만 오늘 오후에 상암 K팝 콘서트로 세계스카우트잼버리 행사가 공식 종료되어도, 새만금 잼버리의 파행에 대한 이야기는 금새 조용해 질 것 같지 않습니다. 이번 행사를 국민의 한 사람으로 바라보면서 생각이 많았고, 드뎌 옛 기억들을 소환하게 되었습니다.
8년의 해외 생활을 하면서 맛을 들인 캠핑을 국내에 들어와서도 가족단위나 교회 단위로 시도했습니다. 하지만 당시에는 대한민국에는 백 명 규모의 인원으로도 함께 캠핑할만한 곳을 찾기가 쉽지 않았습니다. 강원도 통일 전망대에서부터 제주도 서귀포 중문단지까지 이곳저곳을 해마다 기웃거려 본 적이 있습니다. 그 아름다운 천혜의 자연환경을 가진 제주도의 서귀포 중문단지에 당시에 설치된 캠핑장은 말이 캠핑장이지, 텐트 위에 그늘을 선물할만 한 나무 한 그루 없는, 바닥도 그 흔한 모래조차 없는, 돌맹이가 박힌 땅바닥이니, 야외 주차장과 크게 다를 바 없었습니다. 캠프장이라고 지정하고 패말을 붙이던 그 무지와 패기가 아직도 사라지지 않았기 때문입니다.
그래도 개척교회를 하면서 해마다 여름이 오면 전교인 수련회를 위해서, 봄부터 전국 답사를 마다하지 않았습니다. 그 가운데 가장 이상적인 장소로 기억에 남아있는 곳은 강원도 속초 천진중앙교회 주변입니다. 바닥은 모레였고, 꽤 많은 노송들이 풍성한 그늘을 텐트마다 만들어주었기 때문입니다. 또 한 곳은 충남 태안 안면도, 아마 지금의 자연휴양림 부근이 떠오릅니다. 모처럼의 여름 휴가를 남탕 여탕으로 몰아넣는 당시의 수련회 문화를 견딜 수 없어서, 빌리든지 사든지 하더라도 가정당 텐트 하나씩 준비하도록 권장했습니다. 하여 두레, 탄포리 교회의 여름수련회의 텐트촌은 장관이었습니다.
이번 새만금 잼버리의 파행 소식을 들으며, 서울올림픽 이후 대한민국은 참 많이 달라졌습니다만 문화적인 변화는 시간이 걸리나 봅니다. 게다가 문화라고 하면 우리는 ‘반만 년의 유구한 문화’를 자랑해온 민족이며, 요즈음도 K 문화에 도취되어 있기에, 우리들의 참 모습을 보지 못할 가능성이 큽니다. 이번에도 국제적인 망신을 책임질 희생양을 찾아서 광야로 내몰고, 책임지려고 하는 사람은 없이 모두들 불똥이 튀질 않는 안전지대로 도피할 것이 뻔합니다. 청소년들을 있는 그대로 바라보는 어른들이 있어야 합니다. 돈, 권력을 손에 넣을 수만 있다면, 어떤 야합도 거짓도 불사하는 그 용기가 사라져야 대한민국의 미래가 있습니다.
With the news of the World Scout Jamboree and Typhoon Khanun, the beginning of August in South Korea was sweltering and chaotic. Typhoon Khanun provided a pretext for the early evacuation of the Jamboree from Saemangeum, moved sluggishly northward, and was reported to have dissipated near Pyongyang. Yet, even as the World Scout Jamboree officially concludes this afternoon with the K-pop concert at Sangam Stadium, conversations surrounding the debacle at Saemangeum are unlikely to quiet down anytime soon. Watching this event unfold as an ordinary citizen has brought many deep reflections, eventually summoning memories from years past.
Having developed a taste for camping during my eight years living overseas, I attempted camping trips with family and church groups after returning to Korea. Back then, however, finding a campsite in Korea capable of accommodating even around a hundred people was no easy feat. Year after year, I searched high and low, from the Unification Observatory in Gangwon Province all the way down to the Jungmun Tourist Complex in Seogwipo, Jeju Island. The site designated as a campground at the Jungmun Complex in Jeju—a place blessed with such breathtaking natural beauty—was a campground in name only. There was not a single tree to offer shade over a tent, nor even common sand beneath one’s feet; the ground was merely hard earth embedded with jagged stones, hardly distinguishable from an open-air parking lot. It was marked by that lingering ignorance and sheer audacity that simply stuck a sign in the ground and called it a campsite.
Even so, during my church-planting days, I never shied away from scouting nationwide locations starting every spring to prepare for our annual church-wide summer retreat. Among the places etched in my memory as most ideal was the area around Cheonjin Jungang Church in Sokcho, Gangwon Province. The ground was sandy, and a generous stand of mature pine trees cast abundant shade over every tent. Another memorable spot was Anmyeon Island in Taean, South Chungcheong Province—likely near what is now the Natural Recreation Forest. At the time, I could not bear the prevailing retreat culture that separated men and women into large communal bathhouse-style rooms for what was supposed to be a precious summer holiday; instead, I encouraged each household to secure their own tent, whether rented or bought. As a result, the tent villages at our summer retreats for the Dure and Tanpo-ri churches were truly a sight to behold.
Hearing the news of the Saemangeum Jamboree’s breakdown, I am reminded that while South Korea has changed immensely since the Seoul Olympics, true cultural transformation clearly takes time. Moreover, when it comes to culture, we are a people who have long boasted of a 'five-thousand-year venerable heritage' and are presently intoxicated with 'K-culture,' making it all too easy to remain blind to our true reality. It seems inevitable that, once again, people will seek a scapegoat to drive into the wilderness to bear the blame for this international embarrassment, while everyone avoids responsibility by retreating into safe zones where the sparks cannot reach them. We need mature adults who can look upon our youth simply as they are. Only when that reckless audacity—willing to embrace any compromise and deceit just to lay hands on money and power—vanishes, will there be a true future for South Korea.
Met die nuus oor die Jamboree en Tifoen Khanun het die begin van Augustus in Suid-Korea drukkend warm en chaoties verloop. Tifoen Khanun het 'n regverdiging gebied vir die vroeë ontruiming van die Jamboree uit Saemangeum, het stadig noordwaarts beweeg, en het volgens berigte naby Pyongyang doodgeloop. Maar selfs al sluit die Wêreld-Verkennersjamboree vanmiddag amptelik af met die K-pop-konsert by Sangam, sal die gesprekke oor die mislukking by Saemangeum beswaarlik gou gaan lê. Terwyl ek as gewone landsburger hierdie gebeure aanskou het, het talle gedagtes by my opgekom en uiteindelik herinneringe uit die verlede wakker gemaak.
Nadat ek tydens my agt jaar oorsee 'n liefde vir kampeer ontwikkel het, het ek ná my terugkeer na Korea probeer om saam met my gesin en die gemeente te kampeer. Destyds was dit egter nie maklik om in Suid-Korea 'n plek te vind wat selfs 'n groep van honderd mense kon huisves nie. Jaar na jaar het ek oral gaan soek, van die Hereniging-uitkykpunt in Gangwon-provinsie tot by die Jungmun-kompleks in Seogwipo op Jeju-eiland. Die kampeerterrein wat destyds by die Jungmun-kompleks op Jeju aangelê is—'n eiland geseën met 'n asemrowende natuurskoon—was slegs in naam 'n kampeerterrein. Daar was nie 'n enkele boom om skadu oor 'n tent te bied nie, en nie eens gewone sand ondervoet nie; dit was 'n klipharde grond vol los stene, nouliks anders as 'n oop parkeerterrein. Dit was die vrug van daardie onkunde en vermetelheid wat bloot 'n bordjie opslaan en dit 'n kampeerterrein noem.
Nogtans het ek in my jare van gemeentestigting nie gehuiwer om elke lente die land deur te reis ter voorbereiding van die jaarlikse gemeentekamp in die somer nie. Een van die mees ideale plekke wat my bygebly het, was naby die Cheonjin Jungang-kerk in Sokcho, Gangwon-provinsie. Die grond was sanderig, en 'n groot aantal ou dennebome het ryflike skaduwee oor elke tent gegooi. Nog 'n plek wat my byval, is Anmyeon-eiland in Taean, Suid-Chungcheong—waarskynlik naby die huidige Natuurontspanningswoud. Ek kon die destydse kampkultuur, waar mense vir hul kosbare somervakansie in groot geskeide slaapsale vir mans en vroue ingeprop is, nie verdra nie; daarom het ek elke gesin aangemoedig om hul eie tent voor te berei, hetsy gehuur of gekoop. Gevolglik was die tentdorpe tydens die somerkampe van die Dure- en Tanpo-ri-gemeentes 'n pragtige gesig.
Toe ek die nuus oor die mislukking van die Saemangeum-jamboree hoor, het ek besef dat Suid-Korea sedert die Seoel-Olimpiese Spele wel baie verander het, maar dat kulturele transformasie klaarblyklik tyd neem. Wat kultuur betref, is ons boonop 'n volk wat altyd roem op 'n 'vyfduisend jaar oue roemryke kultuur' en tans bedwelm is deur K-kultuur, sodat ons gevaar loop om nie ons ware self raak te sien nie. Dit is duidelik dat mense ook hierdie keer 'n sondebok sal soek om die woestyn in te jaag vir hierdie internasionale verleentheid, terwyl almal aanspreeklikheid ontduik en na veilige hawens vlug waar die vonke hulle nie kan bykom nie. Daar moet volwassenes wees wat ons jeug kan sien presies soos hulle is. Eers wanneer daardie vermetelheid verdwyn—wat tot enige kompromie en leuen bereid is net om geld en mag te bekom—sal daar 'n toekoms vir Suid-Korea wees.