If you’ve been wondering what kind of jewelry to wear, we’ve got a suggestion: Melt your departed loved ones down into beads and string them around your neck or wrist.
Like Japan, South Korea has an aging population with too few babies being born to close the gap. In fact, it’s accumulating senior citizens faster than any other developed country, since a low birth rate is one of their most alarming statistics. While Japan’s population is confined to a series of islands, South Korea is also constrained by geographical limits—in its case a peninsula (and a madcap, murderous dictatorship to the north). So graveyards have given way to more creative ways of honoring the departed. The current trend is melting Grandpa down into something called a death bead.
The death bead is the brainchild of a company called Bonhyang. They present an alternative to the traditional practice of keeping the ashes of the dead in urns. Instead, the remains are heated up and molded into glass bits that “have the look of beluga caviar,” according to Jung-yoon Choi of the Los Angeles Times. The process itself costs just a bit under $1,000. The beads resemble edible fish eggs and come in festive hues such as blue, green, pink, and black. If the one you received changes color according to your mood, you may consider contacting an exorcist.
The idea behind death beads is not to string fallen relatives onto a friendship bracelet for wagering and trading among your pals but to create a more decorative and less depressing way of keeping your late ancestors close at hand. According to the CEO of the company, Bae Jae-yul, “You don’t feel that these beads are creepy or scary. In fact, there’s a holiness and warmth to them.” If you feel actual warmth, however, we would again recommend seeking the assistance of trained clergy. So far it appears the product is a big hit in a country where only three out of ten corpses are put in the ground. Also helping Bonhyang’s bottom line is the law enacted in 2000, mandating that anyone buried after that year must be dug up sixty years after the fact. On a side note, you might want to postpone your 2060 South Korean vacation until 2061, as things are going to be a little weird over there for the twelve months prior.
The Eternal Worker’s Paradise
The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (the alternate way to say Kim Jong-un’s North Korean House of Horrors) has its own distinct method of sending their faithful citizens to Communist Heaven. According to a defector, the first step is to stuff the ears and nose with cotton to prevent unsightly leakage. Then the mouth is filled with rice for a snack on the way to the Marxist promised land. The body is then laid on top of a coffin for three days while family members sit nearby, watching in case the body returns to life (which seems fairly unlikely after the first couple steps, but it is eminently possible considering the state of North Korean medical science). If day three rolls around with nary a wiggle, it’s finally time for a burial or cremation.
When Kim Jong-Il (North Korea’s second supreme leader after his father, Kim Il-sung) passed away in 2011, there was so much public grief on display one would have thought the state media was pumping an overdubbed version of Old Yeller onto every television set in the nation. Was all the wailing and histrionic pavement-pounding for real, some form of mass hysteria, or a fervent desire to avoid being sent to a gulag for failure to be sufficiently emotional? Possibly all of the above. But whatever one’s true opinion of the regime, it definitely would have been one of the worst times in recorded history to suddenly remember a funny story someone told at work the day before.
Bae had his own parents dug up to be transformed into death beads, demonstrating both a sincere belief in his product and an impressive knack for self-promotion. While attempts to sell the idea of superheating your kin into postmortem marbles have been made in the United States, Europe, and Japan, the concept hasn’t caught on as much as in Bae’s homeland. Critics feel that the whole thing is just too synthetic and that the very notion prevents the dead from returning to their natural state. However, whether sales numbers may be boosted by printing Hello Kitty logos or smiley faces on the beads probably has yet to be tested. Bae believes his beads will have an advantage against any upstart competition because his rivals “add minerals” (instead of, you know, um…love?).
Being close to a loved one forever in bead form may resonate among the South Koreans in part because of a more traditional belief, one that requires that family members must also be in proximity to the dying immediately prior to their passing. If they’re not present during this time the deceased risks turning into a wandering spirit called a kaekkvi. However, as far as spooks go, this isn’t too bad. It’s certainly a better fate than winding up as one of neighboring China’s more unsavory denizens of the supernatural realm. Such as the chòuk u gu (a “foul-mouthed” spirit with breath that disgusts even itself) or the y ng gu(a “tumor ghost,” which must feed on the pus from its own malignant growths).
Oh, and there’s plenty more involved where an old-school South Korean funeral is concerned. When the actual death does occur, copious and exaggerated weeping, called kok, is required as the deceased’s clothing is removed, taken to the roof, and pointed north while their name is chanted three times. The body, in turn, is pointed so the head is facing south. After a cleaning ritual called seup, which includes hair and nail clippings being stored in a bag, the body is dressed for burial with rice, beads, and three coins, which are placed in the mouth. There is a lot we’re glossing over here, with many other rites to be observed. So if you’d prefer a simpler farewell you might consider just jumping into an active volcano or something.
