In March, with winter not yet fully gone, the winds on Jeju change several times a day. It rains and then stops, and the sky opens again in no time. People on Jeju say that around this time the Yeongdeung-shin (Yeongdeung Halmang) comes in. It is the second lunar month, the so-called ‘Yeongdeung Month’. Shamanic rituals praying for a good catch and safe days at sea are held across Jeju.

A bountiful-catch rite was also held in Sagye Village, Andeok-myeon, Seogwipo, Jeju, on the 21st. It is a major village event prepared mainly by the haenyeo. A straw rope was strung around the fishing village association building to block outsiders from entering. They had bought groceries days in advance and wiped down the ritual tables and folding screens. The simbang (a shaman in the Jeju dialect) would stay in the haenyeo changing room, which they tidied up, and they washed the bedding. They chose the prettiest pears, apples, and Hallabong oranges one by one, and took out the largest abalone and sea cucumbers they had kept when diving together. They sliced carrots, shucked gujaengi (conch), and harvested seaweed. The day before, they moved from dawn until night; on the day itself, they started even earlier. They watched their words and bodies the whole time, and even after the ritual ended, they stayed at home for two days.

Even if they do not know exactly what the Yeongdeung-shin looks like, the ritual holds great meaning for the haenyeo. They carefully prepare the offering table and conduct the rite, believing that the deity comes and goes. Haenyeo Lee Bok-su (72) said, “Since we offered with sincerity, I feel a little relieved.” Haenyeo Kim In-seon (66) said, “It is believing even when you cannot see.” Saying their finger joints are chilled and there are too many places that ache, they added, “It is sad to grow old,” yet they said they would not ask to stop aging. The haenyeo knew what belongs to human effort and where greed begins.

The final sequence of the ritual is to go out to sea by boat. It is the “ssideurim,” circling the village fishing ground and scattering grain. There are no long petitions; most pray for health. Their own names, their children’s, and those who have gone before. The boat that left carrying fruit and rice returns to the sound of a gong. The haenyeo strike the gong loudly and dance, sending their hearts out to the sea. Then they prepare to enter the sea again. They head into a place that cannot be fully known in a lifetime, each carrying her own time.

The ritual continued from morning until late afternoon. The simbang called the haenyeo’s names and ages over and over. Each time a name was called, the haenyeo stepped forward. They inserted money into rice, bowed, went back, then came out again and bowed. “Lee Bok-su, seventy-two; Kang Shin-ja, eighty-five; Go Seon-ok, seventy-eight; Go Ae-ja, sixty-six; Yang Geum-sun, sixty-eight...” Out at sea, white waves spread each time the wind blew.