Unpacking Korean Humor: The Scatological Tale of a Mourner and a Hospital in Joseon Era

Seoul, South Korea - Ekhbary News Agency

Unpacking Korean Humor: The Scatological Tale of a Mourner and a Hospital in Joseon Era

A peculiar anecdote from a 1916 joke book offers a raw glimpse into historical Korean comedic sensibilities, challenging modern perceptions of humor and societal taboos.

SEOUL – “Laughing Through History,” a compelling column that delves into the origins of Korean humor, recently revisited a particularly striking entry from “Kkalkkal Useum,” a collection of jokes first published in 1916. The selected joke, titled "The Mourner Who Lost His Hat and Ended Up in the Jahye Hospital," is not for the faint of heart, presenting a deeply scatological narrative that, while potentially off-putting to contemporary Western audiences, illuminates a unique aspect of historical Korean cultural comfort zones. This column, translated by G.S. Hand, a distinguished scholar of Modern Korean Literature, highlights the stark contrast in what constitutes acceptable humor across different cultures and eras.

The joke serves as a potent reminder that humor is deeply embedded in cultural context. While English-speaking cultures often shy away from overt scatological humor, preferring it to be subtle or entirely absent, Korean society, historically and to some extent even today, exhibits a greater tolerance for jokes centered around bodily functions. Conversely, topics like sexuality, which might be approached with more openness in some Western comedic traditions, were and often remain more taboo in Korea. This specific example, however, pushes even the boundaries of conventional scatological humor, earning its translator's candid warning about its "stomach-turning" nature.

To fully appreciate the layers of this historical jest, one must understand the societal fabric of the late Joseon era (which concluded in 1910), the period preceding the joke's publication. Central to this context is the profound importance of filial piety and the elaborate rituals surrounding death. When an individual lost a parent, they were expected to observe a rigorous three-year mourning period. This observance dictated not only emotional comportment but also strict sartorial codes. Mourners were required to wear simple, unadorned clothing, eschewing fine materials and decorations. A crucial element of this attire was the bang-gat, a distinctive hat woven from straw, symbolizing humility and grief. The joke's protagonist, a man adhering to these solemn traditions, finds himself in a predicament that hilariously clashes with his dignified status.

Another vital piece of historical context is the emergence of Jahye, or charity, Hospitals. These institutions represented a significant, albeit nascent, step towards public healthcare on the Korean Peninsula. Established in cities across the nation starting in 1909, their primary mission was to provide medical care to the indigent and those who could not afford treatment elsewhere. The most renowned of these facilities was located on Sorok Island, specializing in the care of patients with Hansen’s disease. The inclusion of a Jahye Hospital in a joke published in 1916 underscores its contemporary relevance and public recognition at the time, positioning it as a familiar, if somewhat institutional, setting within the popular imagination.

The joke itself unfolds with a sequence of escalating misfortune and misunderstanding. A man, deep in his mourning attire, is overcome by an urgent need to defecate while walking. In a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of privacy and decorum in an open setting, he resorts to using his sacred bang-gat as a makeshift cover. His precarious situation is then compounded by the arrival of a dog, drawn by the scent, which begins to lick at his legs. His efforts to shoo the persistent animal away lead to a chaotic scene: as he moves, the dog inadvertently leaps through his legs, snagging the straw hat around its neck. Startled, the dog bolts, carrying the man's essential mourning headwear—now soiled and transformed into an absurd accessory—away into the distance.

In a moment of sheer panic and public humiliation, the man, now hatless and exposed, desperately chases after the dog, shouting for help. Spotting a passerby, he exclaims, "Did you see a dog wearing a mourner’s hat run by here?" The passerby, witnessing the man's frantic state and his bizarre query, immediately concludes that the man is delusional and severely ill. Without further inquiry, the benevolent but misguided stranger apprehends the mourner and forcibly escorts him to a Jahye Hospital, presumably for a mental health evaluation or, as the joke suggests, for acupuncture to cure his perceived madness. The humor here is derived from the profound irony: a man driven to an extreme act by a natural bodily function, compounded by an unfortunate animal encounter, is misdiagnosed as insane by a society that fails to grasp the situational absurdity.

This joke, rather than merely being "gross," offers a fascinating window into historical Korean society. It not only highlights the cultural differences in humor but also subtly comments on public perception, the sanctity of mourning rituals, and the early role of public health institutions. The unfortunate mourner's plight resonates as a timeless tale of human vulnerability and the often-unintended consequences of societal judgment. It reminds us that laughter, in its myriad forms, can be a powerful lens through which to examine history and culture, even when the subject matter is, by modern standards, exceptionally crude.

Ekhbary News Agency