| Water bearer circa 1910-1930 / Courtesy of Robert Neff collection |
In the late 1890s, each household paid a monthly sum of 500 cash (roughly 20 cents) for a daily delivery of two buckets of water from the nearby wells. Many households required six or eight buckets of water while larger establishments might require 38 to 40. On average, a water carrier supplied about 30 houses.
One American described his encounter with water carriers:
“It is a marvel to the stranger how they manage to stride or swing along with pails full to the brim, scarcely spilling a drop. They have not even the device of carrying a floating board in the pails to prevent slopping. The water is not drawn up by windlass and bucket, but is ladled up by a wooden bowl attached usually by three cords of straw to a straw rope. This is let down into the well, and by a peculiar flip, which is hard to learn, sent under the water and drawn up full, and the water poured into the pail.” (Rev. George W. Gilmore, Korea from its Capital (Philadelphia, PA: Presbyterian Board of Publication and Sabbath-School Work, 1892)
But the water from the public wells wasn't always potable. In 1892, an American described the wells as being “situated by the roadside and seldom more than six or eight feet deep. Often within six feet, sometimes within three, flows the open drain carrying off the filth of the city, and doubtless much fetid matter filters into the wells.” (Rev. George W. Gilmore, Korea from its Capital (Philadelphia, PA: Presbyterian Board of Publication and Sabbath-School Work, 1892)
Even with the passage of time, things did not improve. In 1909, Seoul had 11,412 public wells of which only 1,501 provided drinkable water.” (Suk Ji-hoon provided the information citing a survey between March-September 1909)
It is no wonder that people did not trust their water sources. Those who could, paid a premium price for their water carriers to bring them water from the many mountain streams outside of Seoul's gates. Of course, not all water carriers were to be trusted.
In 1885, Horace N. Allen, a missionary doctor, noted their duplicity when he tested the water samples brought to him that were reported to have come from the mountain streams. He compared the samples to those he took from the nearest well. He described his findings as: “it is hardly necessary to say that I found them identically the same.” (Horace Allen, “Report on the Health of Seoul (Corea),” China, Imperial Maritime Customs II ― Special Series: No. 2., Medical Reports for the half-year ended 30th September 1885; the 30th Issue 1886)
Water carriers enjoyed privileges that other males did not ― they were able to enter customers' homes without warning the women members of the household of their approach. According to one early Western observer: “Even the highest Korean ladies do not retire to the inner room when the water-carrier enters. He is considered like one of the domestic servants.” (“The Bridges and Wells of Seoul”, The Korea Review, Vol. 3, 1903)
It was this ability to enter at will that granted them knowledge of private matters in their customers' households, even foreigners, and thus they were probably great gossips ― which, on occasion, caused serious problems. One such event took place in Seoul in the summer of 1888 when rumors spread that foreigners were catching Korean children and eating them.
Hugh Cynn, a Korean Christian, recalled that “at the age of six my folks moved to Seoul to live, and our home was only a stone's throw from the Pai Chai compound. Soon after arrival, we heard that the water-carrier of the neighborhood had one morning carried water to the ocean-man's [Western missionary] house. On finding no one in the kitchen, he took courage and went in and lifted the lid of one of the boiling kettles. Lo and behold; there was the body of a little child whose eyeballs were cooked white! That seemed to prove conclusively the story I had heard in my native village [of foreigners eating Korean children].” Hugh Heung-wu Cynn, “Laymen and the Church,” Charles A. Sauer, ed. Within the Gate)
Because of their large number (in 1902, there were 2,000), water carriers in Seoul had their own powerful guild. Positions in the guild were quite coveted and members ― once they decided to give up their occupation ― could sell their position (much like New York taxi drivers sell their medallion) for 18 times their monthly income.
Water carriers were often looked down upon as mere servants but there was more to them than the average person realized. A large number of the water carriers were young men from Bukcheong, Hamgyeong Province, who came to the capital to apply for the national examinations and worked for several months to pay their expenses before taking the test. Those who succeeded gave up their positions in the guild. It is surprising to note that some of these water carriers became very powerful and influential people ― rising to even the highest levels of the Joseon government. One example was Kim Hong-nuik who learned Russian and became an interpreter in the Russian legation and then became a trusted member of the Korean court. His intrigue ― including an assassination attempt on the king ― led to his downfall and his execution in 1898. Another famous water carrier was Yi Yong-ik. He gained importance during the Military Insurrection of 1882 when he aided the Korean queen in returning to the palace unharmed. His close relationship with her helped propel him through the ranks of the Korean court until he became one of the most powerful men in the country ― a privilege he enjoyed until Japan made Korea a protectorate in 1905.
Like Korea's independence, the first decade of the 20th century saw the demise of the water carriers. In 1908, a modern waterworks was built which supplied households with water far cheaper than what the water carriers charged. The water was also safer. The age of the water carrier was over.
Robert Neff is a historian and columnist for The Korea Times. He can be reached at robertneff103@gmail.com.