I was in my Spanish class when people began to point out the dark plumes. Remarkably close to our school and my home, a car parts factory had caught on fire, and spread uncontrollably. It felt surreal. Some even laughed.
The neighborhood which I called home for many years now is, to me, quite boring. I never have expected to see my neighborhood pictured on the front-page news and Naver homepage. The comment section was, as it is the norm, a cesspit; half paid respects, half pointed fingers.
But who should we blame? The employee who turned off the frequently misfiring fire alarm? The factory owners who never bothered to fix it? The bureaucrats who treated inspection duties like hot potatoes? The president?
A day after the fire, my father and I drove to the site. We couldn’t get close as the neighboring streets were closed and crowded with police. I would later learn that South Korean president Lee Jae Myeong was visiting the site. Hence the security.
But the smell was there. While the fire was fully extinguished, a plasticky, acrid odor clung to the air. Staying couldn’t have been good for me as I soon began to cough after leaving.
A few weeks later, I had another visit. The artificial smell was still there, just subdued. It smelt more like… rocks. Officials built impromptu commemorative tents and local unions hung banners; most paid tributes, some called for justice. I quickly snapped some photos and left, not wanting to be disrespectful.
I could not help but be reminded of the Hyundai Premium Outlet fire of five years past. That one claimed 7 lives. This one took 14.
