Just as it is in the South, July to August is the monsoon season in North Korea. Watching the rain pour down outside the window, this reporter recounts the days she spent in the North during the rainy season. The one routine that many people go through is squabbling with their spouses and seeking relief from the downpours and ensuing floods. For those facing economic hardships, the rain brings with it more struggles. It was no different for this reporter.
Around this time of the year in August, residents of single-floor homes are busy patching up their roofs with plastic strips and old rice sacks to stop them from leaking. To keep these additions in place, rocks are placed on top, but downpours often do away with the temporary fix, exposing families in the middle of the night to the cold rain.
Relatively speaking, leaky roofs are more welcome compared to other problems. When water floods the pig pens, the pigs squeal so loud that it shakes up the entire neighborhood. In North Korea, pigs are considered the lifeline of a family. The small ones weigh roughly 60 kg, while the large ones can grow up to 80 kg. This would be the minimum size required for them to have enough value to sell at the market and provide a good sum in return to buy ample food. Being such an asset, people do not hesitate to try to rescue their beloved pigs that they set aside food for, if they’re floundering about in the water.
It’s pigs over people up north. When the family pig is in trouble, it doesn’t matter who you are talking to whether it be your husband or children. Women scream at their husbands to go rescue the swine, and this inevitably leads to an argument. Once the pig has been secured, it gets a nice place on the floor indoors complete with a blanket for comfort. The fear is that the pig will get colitis or some other contagious disease and put a hole in the family’s coffer, so homemakers pull out all the stops to make sure it is safe.
If the pig indeed falls sick, women will go to the market to buy in all the expensive medicine they can get their hands on. If this still doesn’t work, they cut off snippets of their ears or tails. Who knows where this comes from, but in some cases it miraculously works. Despite such care, many pigs don’t make it through the rainy season and die from contagious diseases and diarrhea. This is when you see women in the family shed tears in buckets, realizing they have lost a huge asset that would have helped prop up their livelihoods.
Sad or not, the monsoon rain continues to fall, sometimes flooding nearly half a village. People who live on higher floors in apartment buildings have not to worry, but residents of single-floor structures must then start the battle to secure a place to sleep. Even at this moment, people in the North must be losing sleep over the thought of having to rescue their pig and look for a bed if the rain decides to pour down again; it’s something that brings sadness to this heart.
In the midst of all these thoughts, Pyongyang’s state-run television is busy telling people that leader Kim Jong Un has resolved all residential problems with his love for the public by building high-end apartments on Pyongyang’s Munsu Street. Why is his love only for cadre and not for regular people who will be struggling day in and day out to keep their homes dry while feeding themselves? It’s no surprise that people harbor more resentment toward the dreary reality during the wet season.
