Dangun Founds a Nation

Every year on October 3, a great holiday comes around all across South Korea. The whole country has the day off, and together people remember a story from long, long ago: the story of the day their first country was founded. Koreans call it National Foundation Day.

Whom that day remembers, and how that first country came to be, are both told in a very old story. It is so old that it does not begin on the ground. It begins high up in the sky.

Long ago, the old Koreans said, there was a god in heaven named Hwanin. Hwanin had a son named Hwanung. Day after day, Hwanung stood among the clouds and looked down at the earth below, where there were mountains, rivers and streams, and people living their lives. He looked and looked, and a wish grew in his heart. He wanted to go down there and live among people, to be near them and share their sorrows and joys.

Hwanin knew what was in his son's heart. He did not stand in the way. He agreed to let his son leave the high heavens and go down to live on earth.

So Hwanung came down onto the summit of a very great mountain. Many people say it was Mount Baekdu. White clouds drifted around its peak all year long. Up there stood an ancient sacred tree, its crown spread wide like a green roof. Hwanung chose the shade beneath that tree as his seat. From the windy summit, he lived close to earth and sky, to the grasses and trees and every living creature.

Down at the foot of the mountain, in the thick forest, lived a bear and a tiger. Day after day, the two animals watched people come and go, laugh and talk, build houses and gather close together. A strange longing rose in their hearts. They wanted to be human too.

One day the bear and the tiger went together to find Hwanung. They bowed very low and begged him earnestly to turn them into people.

Hwanung looked at the two animals for a long while. He knew such a wish would not come true easily. To become human, he told them gently, they would have to pass a test. Then he gave each of them a bundle of mugwort and 20 cloves of garlic. They were to go into a deep cave nearby, he said, and eat nothing but this mugwort and garlic. They must stay completely out of the sunlight. Whoever stayed in the cave like that for a full 100 days would become human.

The bear and the tiger took their food and went into the cave together. Inside, light glimmered only at the mouth, and the deeper they went, the softer and quieter it became. There was nothing frightening there at all, only a gentle darkness and a long stillness. But sitting still in the dark day after day, eating nothing but a bitter herb and a few sharp cloves of garlic, was hard indeed.

The first few days passed well enough. Then hunger began to gnaw. The mugwort was bitter and the garlic stung the tongue. Eating them brought no fullness, only more craving. The bear was used to roaming all over the forest, wading into streams to catch fish, and feeling around in hollow trees for honey. Now it had to sit still in one place in the dark. On top of that, it missed the sun. It missed the warmth of sunlight spread across its back, the smell of grass wet with dew, and the chirping of birds on the branches.

At times the patch of light at the cave mouth seemed to call the bear outside, just one step. But each time, the bear gently closed its eyes and remembered what it had longed for. Then it moved deeper inside, lay down, and waited patiently. When it was hungry, it nibbled another bit of mugwort. When it was sad, it thought of the day it would become human. So, day after day, the bear stayed inside the cave.

The tiger was different. Tigers are used to leaping across windy hillsides, stretching out in the midday sun, and running and bounding freely through the mountains and forests. Sitting on and on in the dark cave, with a gnawing stomach and restless limbs, the tiger felt terribly uncomfortable. It tried, it really tried, but its heart kept turning toward the world outside, where the sky was wide and the sunlight was warm and plentiful.

At last, one day, the tiger quietly stood up. "I cannot stand it any longer," the tiger told the bear, its voice a little sad. "I miss the sun and the hills, and I have to go outside." With that, the tiger walked slowly out of the cave and went back to the mountains and forests it knew so well. No one said a word of blame. A tiger is a tiger, and out there, under the sun and the wind, is where it belongs.

Now only the bear was left in the cave. It stayed on, patient one day after another. It ate its mugwort, nibbled its garlic, lay still in the soft darkness, and held on with all its patience. The hunger was still there, and so was the longing for the sun. But its wish to become human was bigger than all of those things put together.

Then, on the 21st day, long before the 100 days were up, something wonderful happened. The bear's body began to change. Its thick fur slowly disappeared, and its shape became different. It stepped out of the cave mouth into the sunlight it had missed for so long. What stood there was no longer a bear, but a gentle woman. People called her Ungnyeo, which means the woman who came from a bear.

Ungnyeo was human now, but one wish still remained in her heart. She longed for a home, and for a child to love and care for. Day after day, she went to the foot of the sacred tree where Hwanung had his seat, and softly prayed for that wish to come true.

Hwanung heard her sincere prayer. Moved by her devotion, he took human form and came to her side. The two grew fond of each other and became husband and wife. They lived together in the shade of the sacred tree on that mountain.

Before long, they had a son. The boy was named Dangun. Dangun grew up strong and wise, and when he was a man, he did a great thing that no one had ever done before. He brought people together and founded a country. He chose a place called Pyongyang as its capital, and he named the country Joseon. Later generations called it Gojoseon, which means Old Joseon. The name set it apart from another Joseon, a dynasty that arose much later.

Since then, many lifetimes have passed, and many seasons of leaves have fallen and turned green again on the high mountain. But the Korean people have never forgotten Dangun, the founder in their old tale. So every year, on October 3, the whole country sets aside a day to remember him, and the first founding of the nation in those faraway times. Perhaps, on that very holiday, a grandfather or grandmother somewhere is sitting down to tell this story to the grandchildren, just as it has been told here. It is the story of a bear that waited patiently for so many days in a dark cave, only so that one morning it could step out into the sunlight as a human being.