Everyday Culture, Everyday Wonder
In the southern part of the Korean Peninsula, between the larger kingdoms of Silla and Baekje, there once existed a small but fascinating confederation called Gaya. Politically, Gaya did not last long under the pressure of its powerful neighbors. Yet culturally, it left a surprisingly deep and enduring legacy. At the heart of that legacy lies music.
A Nation Born from Song
The founding myth of Gaya is unique. In the ancient text Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), we find a song called 〈Gujiga〉, which was not just a chant but a ritual that marked the very birth of the kingdom.
“Turtle, Turtle, put out your head.
If you don’t, we will roast you and eat you.”
This short but powerful verse was sung by the people as they awaited a king sent from heaven. Soon after, six golden eggs descended from the sky, and from them hatched six kings who together ruled the Gaya confederacy.
Unlike many nations that traced their origins to conquest or political power, Gaya defined its beginnings through song—a truly distinctive identity.
A Princess from Across the Sea
Another remarkable story of Gaya is the marriage between King Suro and Princess Heo Hwang-ok. According to legend, she sailed to Gaya on a ship with red sails and flags, introducing herself as a princess from Ayuta, a distant land. Some scholars believe Ayuta may have been in India, while others suggest modern-day Thailand.
Regardless of its exact location, the story symbolizes Gaya’s connection to the wider world through the sea. The wedding was more than a royal union—it was an emblem of international exchange. Each year thereafter, the people of Gaya commemorated the princess’s arrival with songs and dances, showing how deeply music and ritual were woven into their culture.
The Gayageum: Gaya’s Greatest Musical Gift
Gaya’s most enduring contribution to Korean culture is the gayageum, a traditional string instrument. King Gasil is credited with creating it, inspired partly by the Chinese zheng but reinterpreted in a uniquely Gaya style. Crafted with a paulownia wood soundboard and silk strings, the gayageum featured twelve strings—symbolizing the twelve months of the year.
The musician Ureuk further elevated the instrument by composing twelve pieces of music, each named after regions of Gaya. For him, the gayageum was not just an instrument but a vessel of local identity and culture.
When Gaya eventually fell to Silla, Ureuk migrated there, bringing his music with him. Silla’s kings were so moved by his artistry that they adopted the gayageum as a national instrument. Thanks to this, the gayageum survived the fall of Gaya and continues to be one of Korea’s most iconic instruments today.
A Small Nation, a Lasting Echo
Though politically weak, Gaya ensured its place in history through culture. Its founding song, its international connections, and above all, its gift of the gayageum, speak of a people who understood the power of music to define identity.
Today, we remember Gaya not just as a lost confederacy, but as a kingdom whose cultural echo still resonates in Korean heritage.
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