QuoteBongha Journal

Out of Office and Into a Fishbowl in South Korea

By CHOE SANG-HUN
Published: April 10, 2008

BONGHA, South Korea — Each day, a stream of cars and buses pulls into this hamlet of 121 people, disgorging thousands of tourists on a typical weekday and up to 20,000 on Sundays. They all come to see one man, the village's newest resident.

When that man takes a walk to a hill behind his house or to a nearby marsh, they follow him in droves, fathers carrying small children on their shoulders, homemakers snapping pictures with cellphones and those who get close to him thrusting their babies out to be blessed by him. When he is holed up in his house, they pile up at the gate and shout in unison, "Mr. President, please come out!"

Since Roh Moo-hyun left office on Feb. 25 and returned to this village in the country's southeast where he was born, he has become something South Koreans have never seen before: a former president as tourist attraction.

"Today, people were yelling outside from 9 a.m.," Mr. Roh, 61, told a group of tourists gathered outside his home on a recent day. "Whether in office or retired, a president needs some privacy. All of you coming all the way to see me puts a big burden on me.

"I feel grateful. But I also feel sorry that I can't shake hands with each one of you or invite you all in for tea."

Cameras flashed. People cheered, jostling to get closer.

"Hey, President!" blurted an old man. "Where is the first lady? Can we see her too?"

Mr. Roh's wife, Kwon Yang-sook, sometimes joins him to greet the crowds. Otherwise, he fends off the common request with a joke. "She is washing dishes," he says, or "She is putting on makeup and doesn't want you to wait around because, you know, it takes a while."

This ritual repeats itself up to eight times a day, said Kim Min-jeong, a tour guide in Bongha. "He can't get away from it," Ms. Kim said. "When one group leaves, another group quickly gathers at his gate. If he doesn't come out, it gets noisy outside and he can't work inside. It's not easy being a former president."

Mr. Roh was unpopular in office; toward the end of his term, his approval rating fell below 30 percent, according to surveys. But in the weeks since Lee Myung-bak succeeded him, he has been establishing himself as a new kind of retired president.

In the past, if South Koreans marched on a former leader's home and shouted outside his gate, they were demonstrators, not tourists. Of Mr. Roh's predecessors, one was ousted in a popular uprising, one was assassinated and two were imprisoned for sedition and corruption. His two immediate predecessors saw their names tarnished in the public eye by way of their children; a son of Kim Young-sam went to prison for bribery, and all three of Kim Dae-jung's sons were convicted of corruption.

And while past presidents have, like Mr. Roh, hailed from rural areas, they chose to make their homes in Seoul upon leaving office. The other four surviving former presidents now live under heavy police guard in the capital, where some meddle in domestic politics but none mingle with ordinary people.

Mr. Roh, in contrast, rides his bicycle through Bongha, a village near the city of Kimhae. He plants trees and cleans ditches with farmers. He keeps a blog. And he has visitors, thousands of them, every day.

His move into a newly built, low-slung house has brought a swirl of change to Bongha, where residents, when asked what besides Mr. Roh their town is famous for, give you a sheepish smile and cite its abundant persimmon trees.

Banners welcoming Mr. Roh flutter everywhere. A road has been widened, and new parking lots built; nevertheless, on weekends the snarled traffic forces tourists to abandon their cars outside the village and walk, creating the incongruous scene of throngs making a pilgrimage on foot to a no-name hamlet in a sea of rice paddies.

Villagers have turned their town hall into a thriving restaurant for tourists. Outsiders have moved in and are selling steamed ears of corn, roasted chestnuts and herbs along the narrow alley leading to Mr. Roh's 43,000-square-foot residential compound.

"I didn't particularly like him when he was president," said Lee Soo-in, 22, a college student. "But it really feels good to be able to see a former president up close and see where he lives. He feels like an uncle next door. We don't have such intimacy with other former presidents. They all maintain an authoritative, boring persona."

Shin Jeong-sook, 30, a kindergarten teacher, brought 67 children with her so they "can have inspiration from the president's rags-to-fame career," she said. (Born into a family too poor to send him to college, Mr. Roh educated himself and passed the bar exam without having attended law school.)

At the entrance to Mr. Roh's boyhood home, now occupied by another family, a plaque tells a story guaranteed to pique a Korean mother's interest: that of Mr. Roh's mother's "dream of the womb," in which a pregnant woman is said to see her child's future. When she was pregnant with Mr. Roh, the plaque says, an old man with snow-white hair showed up in a dream and gave her a large horse.

"When she rode it," the plaque says, "its hooves sounded like thunder."

Mr. Roh says he has no intention of getting back into politics. Skeptics, however, question how long the former firebrand will remain aloof. Though he lives in the countryside now, he remains connected by way of the Internet, as well as a network of die-hard supporters who call themselves Nosamo, short for "people who love Roh Moo-hyun."

Mr. Roh said he was busy beefing up his Web site, another first for a former president, which he wants to turn into a Wikipedia-like database on social and environmental issues.

"I am extremely busy," he said. "I've got lots of things to do. When I was president, I slept at least six hours a day, no matter what, because it was my duty as head of state to keep in good health. But last night I slept less than five hours, staying up until 1 a.m. working. I feel free."



Bongha is near Kimhae.




Mr. Roh and his wife, Kwon Yang-sook, voted Wednesday in parliamentary elections.




South Koreans regularly gather outside the home of former President Roh Moo-hyun, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Quote from: shewolfSounds like a great guy. Now watch him get caught with a hooker or something