Ajima Encounters of Another Kind

In order to appreciate this story, I must first explain my understanding of the Korean word “ajima.” An ajima is technically a word people use for an older woman. Older is a certainly a relative term. However, the older women that I most strongly associate with this word are the 65 years + crowd of 4’8 hunched ladies who have lived more life than I can imagine. Many of these women grew up in a time where food was scarce and spent enough of their lives bent low over food, boxes, children, or garbage (many still sort garbage to this day) to permanently arch their backs. I see these women often shuffling the sidewalks or perched on street corners amid rings of plastic tubs holding fruit, vegetables, spices, or frozen fish for sale. In the vast majority of ajima encounters, I am met with indifference or a firm shove as the strong women move along their difficult paths. I have, more than once, been body slammed in a public bathroom by an ajima eager to get to a squatty potty before me. I have also been shoved off a subway two stops too early. I no longer doubt the punch that an ajima’s bony elbow can administer. I am no longer surprised by rapid scolding or endless persistence from a wrinkled vendor.

The ajima I met yesterday, though, was not your typical calloused sort. I was walking towards school in my gym clothes with a soccer ball in hand. It was a hot day and I was dragging my feet a bit, trying to psych myself up for a run. I was about half way there when I saw an ajima moving slowly towards me. This ajima looked to be in her upper 80s, back profoundly arched, glowing white hair, and gleaming eyes. Her lacy top didn’t fool me- I knew that the drapey shirt hung over scrawny yet beastly strong arms. I stepped to the side to let her pass with my usual smile and courtesy Korean hello. Expecting little response, I was shocked to see her lift her head and even more surprised to see a grin appear on her face. She said nothing, but shuffled closer. Her smile grew with each baby step. Soon she hovered only a few inches away from me. Her massive smile, beaming a good 5 inches below mine, expanded until it could stretch no further. Then, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a massive fan. The tiny woman began rapidly fanning my face. Her laughing eyes seemed to ask me if I felt any cooler. We stood there in my ally laughing together for about 20 seconds before she snapped her fan shut and continued as wordlessly as she appeared. Dumbstruck I stood my ground for a few seconds before turning to watch her progress. She never turned back.