[imText1]I am a North Korean defector who arrived in South Korea in 2003.
Even now, I look at my world map and often outline the North Korean defector’s escape route through Southeast Asia. The very first thing I did when I completed my time at “Hanawon” (the South Korean resettlement re-education center) was to go to Kyobo Bookstore, purchase this world map and put it up on my wall.
The reason why I, who had never even studied geography, bought a world map full of tiny letters, was because of my memories of the thousands of miles that I had trekked, the different languages that I had encountered, and the foreigners of different skin color whom I had met, all in search of freedom.
On the large map, the Korean peninsula crouches at the bottom of the Chinese continent like a small rabbit in Far East Asia. It takes just 4 hours by car from Seoul to my native land – to think that I had to travel thousands of miles to come to a place a mere stone’s throw away, it all seems like a dream to me. There are thousands of North Korean defectors who, like me, have traveled through China, Vietnam and Thailand in search of freedom. Only a passion for freedom and perseverance in the face of life-threatening situations has brought us here today.
On December 20, 2003 at 8am, the day that Korean Air’s Bankok to Seoul flight was scheduled to land at Incheon Airport, the six of us who came together silently cried, “Freedom forever!” and “Long live South Korea!”. Once we landed, I saw that the appearance of the land and the weather were similar to that of North Korea. Even the people, other than their slightly friendlier-sounding accent, looked almost no different from North Koreans.
“Is this land really the same place that we had thought of as a sworn enemy for 60 years?” It did not take long for my feelings of wonderment towards Seoul to dissipate. It might have been due to the fact that I had often enjoyed listening to the South Korean radio broadcasts in North Korea as well as during my long travel overseas.
Currently I am in the process of fulfilling my dream of education at Yonsei University. After having gone through the brainwashing of closed-off North Korea, it is extremely rewarding and fun to live as a college student in the South, experiencing South Korea’s liberal education as well as gaining knowledge about the global world. I truly thank the South Korean people for giving me this kind of freedom. And I realize just how much making the resolution to seek this freedom was worth it.
How the South Korean Radio Broadcasts Opened My Eyes to Freedom
The world underwent many changes in the early 1990’s, when I was attending a certain university in Shinuiju. After Russia and the Eastern European bloc was dissolved, South Korea formed ties with China in 1992. The Shinuiju residents talked about liberalization and reformation every day and elements of trade and democracy began appearing all throughout the city, having been influenced by neighboring China.
Residents of Shinuiju, which bordered Dandong, looked across the Yalu River with envy at the effects of China’s liberalization and reformation: the high-rise buildings shooting up like mushrooms after the rain and the bright neon signs that turned night into day.
The ones who were the most interested in the liberalization and reformation were college students. They whispered amongst themselves that, “A South Korean’s average GDP is more than $10,000,” and that, “There are more than 10 million cars there.” And the biggest source of interest was the fact that South Korean society had become democratized.
In order to listen to the South Korean radio broadcasts, I bought a pocket-size radio from Wang, a Chinese merchant whom I knew. Short-wave radios had good reception of South Korean broadcasts once it passed midnight.
During that time, Kim Jong Il ordered the regulation of the gold-tinted capitalism wind that was blowing in Shinuiju, so the Party, Security and Defense Department formed a watch group to keep an eye on these activities. Anyone who was caught by this group was usually taken to a political prison.
Fortunately, up until I graduated from college, no one knew that I listened to the South Korean radio programs. The Chinese TV gets good reception in Shinuiju as well. Whenever I got a chance, I would go to a family home and watch Chinese television. The school officials encourage students to stay in the dormitories, but the students look for a private residence close to the school so they can have their privacy and keep their belongings there.
Of course one must close the windows and turn the volume down as low as one can. There are various programs, such as action, disco and news that one can watch on channels such as Dandong TV, Sunyang TV and Beijing TV. I especially enjoyed watching action movies like Lishiaorung, Chungrung, and Lirenje and also news that Chinese merchants interpreted for me.
Even in the case of the 1997 defection of Hwang Jang Yop, the international secretary of North Korean Workers’ Party, through the Chinese embassy, we found out even before Pyongyang did, through the Chinese merchants who saw in on the news.
I hated the fact that North Korean education only taught you about idolizing the leader and having no access to freedom. In my heart, I was beginning to desire an education in a free world.
In the mid-1990’s, with the onset of the famine, there was an endless succession of people who were starving to death. My parents both passed away from starvation during this time as well. These starving people began to flock to Shinuiju, hoping to find food along the border. They arrived in Shinuiju on the rooftops of trains or on freight trains and lived in the station waiting areas, stealing corn or flour that made its way over from China.
In the summer of 1997, there was a dramatic increase in the number of North Korean defectors who fled by crossing the North Korean-Chinese border “Goodwill Bridge between NK and China”, only to be caught and sent back to North Korea. The phrase, “You can find food wherever you go in China and can get paid at least 20 Won a day working,” caught my ears. I had been listening to the Chinese television and the South Korean radio broadcasts and so had been opening up to the idea of freedom. I wanted to break out of this fence and go out into the free world. I did not want my youth to rot away in vain.
The “China Dream” That Shattered into Pieces
My first escape was in November of 2000. The Yalu River facing Shinuiju was too wide, and because it was winter, it was impossible to cross. So the first place I designated as my departure point was Haesan. While on the Pyongyang-to-Haesan train, I was caught by the police attendant at Shinsungchun Station.
You need to carry your identification card as well as a travel card issued by the “보안서” to travel by train in North Korea. Not only did I not possess a travel card, but they also found a map of China in my luggage. They told me that they needed to investigate something and proceeded to take me away.
I realized I could not wait any longer as I sat there, locked in the inspector’s car. When the train stopped due to an electrical outage, I took the chance and jumped out the window.
After I arrived in Haesan in this way, I chose an area of the Yalu River that was not quite so wide and even found where the guards were located. As I crossed the Yalu River, I sent a prayer toward my hometown, “Please let me return, successful, to the land of my ancestors…” I stepped slowly into the river.
As soon as I arrived near Changbai, I realized that I needed to get as far away from the border as I could, so I entered into the woods. Whenever I got lost, I would climb on top of the trees and try to find my bearings. I kept traveling north, avoiding the towns. At night, I slept under the leaves; I spent four days and three nights wandering around. Even though I had successfully crossed the border, I did not know the language and my future looked bleak.
I was completely alone in the woods, in minus 30 degrees (Celsius) weather. I had not eaten anything for days, so I made my way over to town. I went from door to door, knocking on the houses, but no one would let me in because there was a fine imposed on anyone who housed North Koreans. Fortunately, I was able to enter the house of a single man of Korean descent and ate bean paste soup and rice for the first time in ages. My frozen heart thawed and I was able to catch up on the sleep I had lost.
Through the help of some Korean-descent Chinese, I found a job at a quarry in Heorung. Trimming stones in the quarry was manual labor that even the Chinese avoided. Because I had no place to stay immediately, I agreed to start working, and was promised to be paid later. I had to work at the quarry for over 10 hours a day, hammering away at the stones. One wrong move, and your fingers would get hammered, plus there was the constant danger of the roof falling in.
I had to wake up at 5 in the morning every day and my breakfast consisted of two bean buns and a bowl of watery soup. I began to suffer from hepatitis due to the lack of sleep and the meager food. Occasionally, when I would sit due to the pain, the Chinese would curse at me for not working hard.
Thus, the winter passed and summer arrived. I was so weary and suffered from constant nausea that I could not endure any longer. I went to the manager and saying that I wanted to go home, requested my wages. The manager replied, “I cannot pay you the total amount because you did not work for a full year.”
I begged, “I need to treat my illness and also money to travel so that I can return home.” The manager gave me a total of 130 Won for eight months that I worked. The “China Dream” vanished along with the thousands I was expecting based on the supposed daily rate of 20 Won.
The Bloody Tears I Shed While Being Beaten by a Foreign Soldier
While on my way to Yanji Station in order to catch the train headed for Tianjin, my bus was caught by the Chinese Border Guards for inspection. At first, I pretended to be mute, but the guards dragged me away.
Three soldiers pressed an electric club between my legs and took the 1,000 Won that they found hidden in my underwear. When they took the money that I had painstakingly saved and hidden, not even treating my illness, I began to sob. But no matter how much I pleaded, the guards did not budge.
However, the fear of being sent back to North Korea and ultimately being killed, overcame my indignation at having my money taken. After a couple hours, the guards put me in a car that would take me to the detention camp for North Koreans in Tumen.
I began to think of a way to get free from my shackles and escape from my guard. Regardless of whether I lived or died, I tried to jump out from the car, but four other guards pounced on me. I lost consciousness as my body was hit by the electric clubs and the guards’ boots.
I don’t know how many hours had passed, but we arrived at the Tumen detention center, where I was beaten once again, having been labeled an “attempted escapee”. The Chinese soldiers treated North Korean defectors like animals. Even though I could endure being beaten by my own race, I could not stand being beaten by the Chinese. The lives of the North Korean youth who escaped to China to seek a better life were worth less than those of insects.
The day we were returned to North Korea, they chained people in pairs. In this way, I crossed the Tumen River again in August of 2001. When I arrived at the Chongjin City concentration camp, I was investigated fully unclothed. The guards fed me salt soup and made me excrete waste, saying that North Korean defectors usually swallowed money before they left. The guards poked around the excrements, searching for money. In the female prison room next door, the guards must have been searching the prisoner’s vagina, for there were horrifying screams coming from there.
I spent one month at the Chongjin City concentration camp, carrying human feces back and forth. When I fell, the contents of the bucket would slosh all over me, and having no chance to wash my clothes, I would just have to stay in those clothes. I would be the happiest on the occasions when I would go out to tend the onion and cucumber fields. It was because I could manage to eat rotten cucumbers or raw corn.
When work was completed, we would have to race to the training centers, shouting, “Eradicate the crossing of the river,” or “Safeguard the general’s society.” This was in order to alter any thoughts we had of escaping and also to make tired so that we could not escape. During the month that I stayed in the concentration camp, many defectors died of starvation. This was the sight of the Chongjin City concentration camp. (To be continued)
