Colonial Plantations of Iksan and Nabawi Catholic Church

Chunpo Station (1914) in Chunpo-ri, Iksan, Korea’s oldest existent train station.

I think I may have said this earlier, but it’s worth repeating — if you want to learn about what the Japanese colonial era was all about, you have to come to Jeollabuk-do. It was on the fertile lands of the Honam Plain that the colonial presence was felt most acutely, with Japanese landlords establishing grand plantations where countless Korean tenant farmers toiling under the eye of Japanese farm managers produced the vital rice supplies exported to feed Japan’s hungry industrial cities. Meanwhile, Japanese settlers from the mainland flocked to the region’s cities and farms, creating settler societies not unlike those of other colonial settler states such as French Algeria or British Rhodesia. The Japanese went home — quite unhappily, in many cases — in 1945, but the social conflicts they helped create remained and would play a central role in the dramatic early history of the republic.

Today was spent in Iksan, formerly Iri, a major transportation junction on the Honam railway line and the site of a number of former Japanese plantations, remains of which can still be found. I was originally hoping to include in today’s trip the city of Gimje — which actually promotes tourism of this sortthanks to its starring role in Jo Jung-rae’s novel “Arirang” —  but I got a bit of a late start so I had to confine myself to Iksan.

Former Igok Irrigation Association Office

Registered Cultural Property No. 181.

The Igok Irrigation Association was formed in 1920 with the merging of two smaller irrigation associations. The body was tasked with irrigation projects in the region, and as such played an important role in colonial agricultural development.

The office, located in Pyeonghwa-dong, was built in 1930, and was quite well regarded at the time for its architectural excellence — it was even featured in the Jan 1930 issue of the colonial magazine “Joseon and Architecture.” You’ll notice the fine masonry work and the Mansard roof, which sits on wood trusses. Next to the main office is a warehouse that dates from the same era.

Old Japanese Homes of Iksan

The downtown area is full of old Japanese homes, an indication of the city’s importance during the colonial era. I should point out, BTW, that in Juhyeon-dong, the former office of the Ohashi Plantation— currently a school for ethnic Chinese — is now a registered cultural propety, but when I visited, it was quite overgrown with not much to photograph.

Chunpo Station

Registered Cultural Property No. 210.

About 15 minutes into the countryside is a small village called Chunpo-ri. Many locals, however, still call it Daejangchon, “Daejang” being the name of the Japanese plantation of which the village was a part.

Chunpo Station, likewise, was originally called Daejang Station, and is still often referred to as such. The station is no longer in use, and in fact, the line on which its on will soon go out of use, too — or so I was told. Nevertheless, it’s Korea’s oldest existent train station, having been built in 1914. Ah, an old country train station — for me, anyway, few pieces of modern architecture are so beautiful. Simple, functional, yet elegant. Note the woodwork on the veranda and above the doors.

Old Hosokawa Plantation House

Registered Cultural Property No. 211.

This is why the train station exists.

Much of the Chunpo-ri area was once part of a large plantation set up by Hosokawa Muridachi, a Japanese nobleman of the famed Hosokawa clan who came to Korea in 1904 and by 1909 had aquired large land holdings in the soon-to-be colony. Incidentally, he was also the grandfather of former Japanese prime minister Hosokawa Morihiro. In Chunpo-ri, he set up a rice mill, where he processed his lands’ bounty before packing it on a train at Chunpo Station to send to Gunsan, where it was packed on ships for Japan.

The main farmhouse is in the latter stages of restoration. A fine example of Japanese residential architecture that resembles somewhat a Japanese castle, it was the residence of the land manager of the Hosokawa Plantation. Hosokawa’s rice mill is still there, too, as is the former plantation manager’s home (now owned by 90-year-old Kim Seong-cheol, a two time lawmaker who in his youth was an employee of the plantation). Unfortunately, I was on a bit of a schedule, so I didn’t get a chance to photograph them, alas. Might go again tomorrow, though.

Kim, coincidentally, apparently has pretty fond memories of Hosokawa. Talking to one newspaper, he recounted that many of the big Japanese landowners in the area didn’t really care about making money, but Hosokawa was all business. He was in it to produce high-quality grains through efficient management. To do this, he said, Hosokawa managed the land well and divied up jobs fairly to keep the farmers content. And he paid well — Kim got 60 won a month, a hefty sum at a time when local civil servants were making 25—28 won a month.

In June, the Chosun Ilbo ran a short piece on the Japanese— many of whom were born in Korea — who in 1945 got on the slow boat to Hakata, never to return. One of the stories introduced is a Japanese from Chunpo-ri who apparently spoke Korean with a Jeollado accent, which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise since prior to 1945, Korea was the only home he’d ever known.

While one can certainly feel sad for those that left in 1945, it’s important to remember the other side to it, too. I talked some with the architect handling the restoration work on the plantation house. He wanted the project, he said, because the house is an important reminder of the painful past. These were plantations, after all, run on an exploitive system of tenant farming in which much of the population was essentially landless at a time when land meant everything. Development projects often worsened the situation. The architect I talked to pointed out a nearby river embankment. The Japanese, he said, diverted the river to reclaim farmland. But very few people benefited from that project, and after Liberation, the land passed to those who collaborated with the Japanese. If you’ve read “The Taebaeksan Mountains,” you know the story. A lot of blood would be spilt over the land issue after Liberation, and meaningful land reform wouldn’t come to the region until the 1950s.

Nabawi Catholic Church

My final destination of the day was Nabawi Catholic Church (also known as Hwasan Catholic Church), a true treasure of early modern ecclesiastic architecture.

Designed by French missionary Father Joseph Vermorel, the church was built in 1906 with laborers brought in from China. Additions were added in 1916 and 1922. Like Gupodong Cathedral in Anseong, the church features a Gothic steeple with a Korean hanok roof. This mixture of East and West makes it one of the most beautiful churches in Korea. Particularly nice is the wood interior and the cloisters lining the body of the church.

Father Kim Dae-geon, Korea’s first Catholic priest, gave his first sermon on the spot of the church in 1845. In back of the church is a walking path lined by the Stations of the Cross. At the top of the hill is a memorial pagoda for Father Kim.