Tigers hold an interesting place in Koreans' collective consciousness. They are undoubtedly the strongest of the animals that roamed the Korean mountains, which terrified yet inspired awe to the people of Korea. Despite the fact that many people were killed by tigers (and thus, tigers are almost always described as antagonists in folklore), Koreans also likened themselves to tigers, by asserting that the Korean peninsula looks like a crouching tiger (a 무리수, if you ask me!)
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| And later, during the Japanese occupation era, the Japanese did not like this comparison, and their historians started asserting that the Korean peninsula looks like a rabbit. We are mature, no? |
First of all, the standard Korean word for a tiger is "호랑이." This word actually comes from Chinese. But there is also a pure Korean word for a tiger, which is "범." To most Koreans, these two words are completely synonymous.
However, if you ask your grandparents, they might tell you that a 호랑이 and a 범 are two completely different creatures. While a 호랑이 is just a normal tiger, the elders often claim that a 범 is a demonic being that is much more sinister than a 호랑이. This 범 is most often seen in the 장산 area near Busan, so people often call this demon "장산범" or "tiger of 장산."
First of all, a 장산범 does not look like a regular tiger. It is covered with long, flowy white fur, much like the silky hair of a woman, and bright blue eyes that glow in the dark. It is said that once you look into its eyes, you will be so mesmerized that you won't be able to run away. It is extremely fast, and usually uses all four limbs to move (people describe the movement as "awkward crawling"), although it is capable of standing in its two hind legs. It is capable of mimicking sounds of all kinds.
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| Several people who claim to have met a 장산범 sketched the pictures of the beast; surprisingly, many of them look very similar! Coincidence? |
What makes a 장산범 terrifying is that it seems to have some magical powers. Once a person is eaten by a 장산범, his soul is trapped by the tiger-demon. His soul then lives near the jaw of the tiger-demon, and it must aid the tiger-demon in finding other prey before being released from the indenture. This enslaved soul is called a "창귀" in Korean, and it often leads the tiger-demon to the homes of the people that it used to know when it was alive. (the letter "창" means "to go insane," and the letter "귀" means "ghost." That's pretty dark, no?)
When a tiger arrives at the door to the house of its prey, the 창귀 will call out people's name in the most moving voice you can imagine. It pleads with you and it evokes such feelings of longing that people cannot help but answer to this call. However, if you do answer, you will fall under the spell of the tiger-demon, and you will not be able to resist going outside to meet the tiger-demon, and be eaten. However, the 창귀 can only call out your name three times, so it is said that even today, people living in a deserted mountainous area will only answer once their name is called a fourth time.
There are many stories on the internet, but here is a short one by an anonymous Korean internet user. I've translated it, but it is edited somewhat from the Korean version, to get rid of the unnecessary detail. If you'd like to read the full, original Korean version of the story, it is posted on my Twitter account.
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When my mom was young, she took her younger brother (my uncle) to the next town over. She lost track of time because she was having too much fun, and she only started on her way home when the sun has almost set.
My mom lived in a small village in the countryside, so there was a significant distance between villages, so she had to hike over a small hill (now, that village is too deep inside a mountain for people to live, but I've seen the village on my way fishing). At least because of the development plan by the government, there was a clear path between the two villages.
While she was walking on the path holding onto my uncle's hand, she felt something scatter and land around her feet. ("툭" is the Korean onomatopoeia; I'm not sure what the English equivalent would be). When she looked down, it looked like some sort of topsoil had been thrown at her feet.
But she lived in a rural village, so it wasn't unusual that there was dirt on the road, so she kept on walking with her brother. But after only a few steps, she felt the soil being scattered around her feet again. Only then did she remember what her mother had told her:
"There is a beast named 장산범. It will sometimes appear to the lone travelers on the mountain paths and throw dirt at them, so that they will look up and lock eyes with it. Once you look into its eyes, you will fall under its powers (the Korean verb is "홀리다," like how the vixen can also put you under her spell!) so never look in the direction where the dirt came from."
Remembering this, she told her brother to never look around and look straight ahead, but from the corner of her eyes, she could see a white figure following them behind the trees. It would run for a few steps, pause, and throw dirt. Then it would run a few more steps, pause, and throw more dirt, and it followed my mom and my uncle until the end of the mountain path.
My mom thinks that it hesitated to attack right away because there were two people, so it tried to put them under its magic by trying to get them to look into its eyes. When I first heard the story, I laughed it off, but my mom is usually very serious and doesn't joke around much, so I am forced to believe at least some parts of the story. Plus, it agrees with most of the other accounts on the internet!
Back then, my mom lived in 주촌 of 김해, which is still a very rural village which bases its economy on agriculture and pottery.
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Whether the Koreans believe stories of this kind in earnest, I don't know. But you will certainly find people who will swear that they have seen a 장산범 at some point in their lives, and you will find yet more people who are willing to listen to these stories and pretend to believe. Why the 도깨비 and the 여우 seem to have fallen into the realm of folklore while 장산범 still has some foothold in the Korean culture, I do not know. Perhaps it just survived by the virtue of a lucky draw. But perhaps it is due the Korean reluctance to part with the idea of a tiger, as they want to believe that Korea is ultimately a country much like a tiger.
This story is also fascinating to me for a completely different reason. Although there are many well-known beings in the Western mythology as well, if someone walks into the room and announces that they saw a vampire, or a leprechaun, they will likely meet with snickers and sarcasm. On the other hand, there are a few mythical beings that the Koreans can claim to have seen, and still have a sympathetic audience. To me, this shows that traces of shamanism are still present in the Koreans' lives.
As long as it doesn't interfere with your day-to-day life, and as long as it is not hurting anyone, a touch of mythology, and a touch of the belief in the magical beings doesn't really seem so bad to me. On the contrary, it adds a new dimension to their lives, and it keeps life a little bit more interesting.
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