Moon Ji Sung would tell you himself that this story is not his but it it is his to tell. It isn't about him and it never was. This story... this - it's about St John and all of his boys: Ji Sung, Jared, Adriaan, Noah, Bophelo, Zulu, Marco, Pyotr...
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(A/N: This is an actual school in the KZN midlands called Michael House. Attend this school if your parents' wallets are too heavy ;) )
Chapter 1
I don't think it had occurred to me until this particular moment.
I've travelled multiple times, albeit never to where I am now, and I'm perfectly fluent in English. I am familiar with not being at home. But this was different. On a holiday I would wait, almost fantasise, about the day I'd be home. The minute I closed the door, closed myself inside this small meter-taxi, I realised that in a few days I wouldn't be in another one coming the opposite direction back to the airport - back home . I couldn't even think about the day I would be back – it'd be too far away.
When the driver asked me where I wanted to go, I realised that this place, skies and oceans away from Korea, is now home. I realised that wherever he took me was to be a home for my remaining high school years.
•
The driver turned back to look at me momentarily and asked, "So, you are from China or what?"
The question doesn't bother me. It just further emphasised how far I was from South Korea.
I laughed quietly, probably to show politeness. "No, sir. I'm actually from South Korea. Not too far from China, though."
"All right,' he expressed with comprehension, "No, I see."
I took this statement without question, hoping that he understood. If that was true perhaps I could find my home here.
After this exchange the driver did not speak to me. We both did not know how to speak to each other. Thus we remained quiet, making the journey appear much longer. It was not at all easy to arrive at St John's College. It took a lot from my patience to travel 16 hours through the sky and above oceans and thereafter, an hour on infinite roads flanked by green hills and planes. There was nothing to do other than look out the window. I suppose that's what Korea had in common with this place. Take away the borders and governments and buildings: just sky, sea and land.
For a moment I forgot that I had a destination, getting lost in the surroundings, until my phone vibrated with a notification. Looking at the screen I saw that my mother messaged me, asking whether I have yet arrived at the school. I wonder if she felt excited or nervous or sad. If I knew how she felt maybe I would know how I should feel. This is all due to her initiative after all. I'm not angry at her. I just don't understand what gave her the idea. I don't understand what I'm meant to take from this experience.
I decided to call her. Knowing her, sending a question through text indicates her desire to call me.
"A, Jisung-a..." she greeted with a sigh.
"Nae, eomma." I answered quietly. I immediately felt foreign, like a foreigner, speaking this language in this country. Perhaps my mother noticed this for she immediately changed to English.
