NorthKoreanRefugees.com

On December 14, 1959, a so-called “Repatriation Ship” set sail from North Niigata in Japan and headed for North Korea.  A massive propaganda campaign had, for months, been touting a “Socialist Paradise on Earth,” and this ship was carrying the first of the 93,000 ethnic Korean residents of Japan and Japanese spouses in search of their dreams, their hopes, and even their misgivings about the unknown country where they planned to make their new home. Included among that number were 6,730 Japanese spouses and children.

The campaign promoting the Socialist Paradise continued until July 1984, and it was responsible for a flood of repatriations.  Major factors underlying the appeal of this campaign included ethnic discrimination and limited future prospects in Japan, feelings of hopelessness, and a society closed to ethnic Koreans in addition to the campaign’s systematic mobilization and promotion.

Now, fast-forward to the present day, to a young man named Sung Kook, born in 1995 in Chongjin City North Hamgyong Province.  He is a son of one of those who sailed away to find his “paradise.” 

This is the story of a young man who escaped from North Korea in search of his mother who had already resettled in Japan long before he made it to Japan.  On his trek, he saw days of great pain and hardship, but was at last reunited with his mother in 2017 after not seeing her for 16 years. He tells us of his dreams and hopes, and he shares memories from his journey along the way.  He is now studying at a night school in preparation for becoming an electronic engineer with a scholarship supplied by our organization, LFNKR.

Introduction

I was born on September 17, 1995, in Sinam-guyok, Chongjin, North Hamgyong Province. During my first five years, I received the warm affection of my parents and grew up happy and carefree. I was a mischievous child and occasionally annoyed my parents just as all children do. I laughed a lot, cried a lot, and never let my mom out of my sight. However, something happened that brought the happy times to an end.

My parents divorced. I don’t know why, but because of it I was separated from my parents, and I endured a dark and painful 16 years.

I think the most important time of life is childhood. But for me, those 16 years do not include memories of beautiful rainbows; rather it was dark days, and the pain of hell.

Six-Year-Old Child Separated from his Mother

At six, a child is usually cheerful but is also prone to whine at times. However, my childhood was such a scary and painful time that I suddenly awoke. I will tell the story by tracing the “beautiful memories” of my childhood. Memories that I cannot forget no matter how hard I try.

I recall tightly clutching my mother’s hand, and we were heading somewhere. Where were we walking? I was five at the time, but I still remember it clearly. After my parents divorced, my mother was taking me to my maternal uncle’s house in the Ranan area. I never strayed from my mother, so I was walking silently at her side. When my mother went to work, she left me with my grandmother or my uncle. I constantly cried when my mother was away. Even when I was sleeping, I always grabbed my mother’s wrists. I was fretful and always wanted to go everywhere with her. I cried so much my eyes stayed swollen when my mother wasn’t there for me. But when my mother came home, my tears seemed unreal, and my mood was sunny and cheerful.

A year passed like that, but life grew tougher every day, and I grew weaker. So, after much thought, my mother entrusted me to my uncle’s care and left. From that day, an unforgettable childhood began, days in which tears and pain continued… At the same time, however, those days made me strong.

From Maternal Grandmother’s House to Father’s, then Paternal Grandmother’s

In 2001, after my mother left, my maternal grandmother sent me to live with my father. Much later I learned that my mother had wept bitterly when she left me, and she cried non-stop. Her feelings must have been terribly painful. Grandmother took me to my father and left me there. My dad loved me greatly. He took me to the house where I had lived for my first five years.  As soon as I entered the house, filled with memories of my childhood, I cried again.

In the past, whenever I came in from playing, my mother always welcomed me, but now I didn’t have that mother. Tears falling again like raindrops. Then I heard a woman’s voice calling from outside. I thought it might be my mother, so I wiped my tears and went to see, but it was my father’s new wife. More crying.

After finishing my bath, and while eating, I heard a familiar voice. I dropped my chopsticks and froze. It was my father’s mother. My paternal grandmother hated me so much that I was terrified of her. My grandmother didn’t come to see her real grandson, except to make him suffer more. I still do not know why my grandmother hated me so much. She had come to take me to her house. She cursed at me and I didn’t understand why. As a punishment sometimes, I would be closed up in a small room.

I had a half-brother from my father’s first marriage. Then there was me, the only child from his second marriage.  Often, I was sent to bed and the others, including my half-brother, would eat fruit – watermelon, Korean melon, bananas and such – without me. I was always nervous about my grandmother watching me, sometimes I was scolded because I ate slowly.

From that time, my smile disappeared, it felt like I was living in the shadows.

Grandmother put me up for adoption

One day in December 2001, it was the New Year season and my father came. I thought this time he would surely take me home with him.

But my grandmother dashed my hopes. A few days before the New Year, she sent me to a strange house as an adopted child. There were two children there, one was a year older than me and the other was two years younger. At the house, she exchanged a few words with the new family and soon went away.

Next morning, I half suspected that I was being adopted by this family, and I realized that, if so, that was just the way it was. But if I was out of the hands of my grandmother and her bullying, I thought I could at least live in peace.

I had become an orphan even though I had a mother and a father. I ate breakfast that day and headed to the station with my new family. My adoptive father was a soldier, and he said he was being transferred to Ichon county in Gangwon Province. Getting on the train reminded me of my mother and tears overflowed. What if she came to take me with her? Where is my mother now? Why hasn’t she contacted me after these months? I waited and waited, but I still didn’t see my mother.

Departure! The sound of a train whistle. This is how I left my hometown, with nobody waving goodbye. My father and mother had disappeared from my life without a trace.

Fight with Kim Nam Cheol

Thus began my new life. We finally arrived at our destination after traveling for several days by rail. Toward the holidays, I attended an Incha kindergarten. After I entered elementary school, I studied hard. At the start of my second year, my adoptive father was again transferred, this time to the region called Ap Dongli, Pyeonggang-gun, Gangwon Province. Since our family struggled financially, we skipped meals fairly often. Given this situation, it was hard to stay in school. My school performance was top among the students, I also served as class leader. I even won an award in the academic competition that took place every year.

One day, an older student made fun of me, calling me a “parentless bastard.” So, I got angry and hit him. Then other upper classmen standing around hit me back. That night, I couldn’t sleep because of all the anger and stayed up all night. At home I didn’t say a word, but from then on, I began using a stuffed fertilizer bag as a punching bag behind the house every morning and evening. After several months of training, I began to feel stronger. I even got calluses on my hands, but I kept on.

One day, when I was studying, a bully named “Kim Nam Soo” came into my class. He silently patted my head. His older brother was called “Kim Nam Cheol,” and he was famous among the older students for his violence. Everybody knew the name Kim Nam Cheol. In my class was Nam Cheol’s younger brother, and he wanted to be first in everything. All my classmates hated him and were scared. Namus’s older brother was even scarier, and nobody dared say anything for fear of being beaten.

But that day I couldn’t stand any more. I punched Nam Soo in the face, and he ran crying to his brother. The other classmates were afraid and told me to get away quickly, but I didn’t care. I said, run if you want. In the meantime, his brother came looking for me. The teacher wasn’t around because it was recess. Nam Cheol tried to grab my neck and beat me, but I picked up a chair and swung it. I ended up with a nosebleed and Nam Cheol had split lips.

After we exchanged blows for a bit, the homeroom teacher came in. He scolded Nam Cheol, saying that it was unseemly to be fighting with a younger student. After that incident, seniors no longer made fun of me and I became closer to my classmates.

One day when I was playing ball, I saw Nam Soon in the distance, playing alone. Even though we had fought, I felt sorry for him. I went to him and told him that we would stop fighting and get along, reaching out my hands. We made friends on that day.

Dropped out of School as Life Was Hard, Top Student Withdrew

From 2005, when I was 10, I was no longer able attend school regularly. Life had gotten tough, and I was put to work on a farm. Since I could not attend school, I could not keep up with my studies, so my grades naturally suffered.

For me, the saddest thing was when sports day came around. Everyone enjoyed the events with their parents, whether winning or losing. Every time I saw the families together, I was envious and missed my mother. I would go to the study room where nobody could see me and cry alone.

There was, however, one person, a homeroom teacher, who encouraged me at such times. This teacher always encouraged me, saying that I had to live bravely and never be intimidated.

At sports day events, my friends around me had lunches with many kinds of side dishes on white rice, but I had cold, hard corn gruel and a couple of plain side dishes like egg. I would not open my lunch box. Instead, I would go outside and peer into my adoptive brother’s classroom. Seeing his laughing face, I could only imagine how delicious his lunch was.

After that, I found it hard to go to school anymore, and finally was unable to go to school at all because I had to work.

When I turned twelve, I worked all year, not once entering the school gate. I worked helping to fell trees in winter. I was short and weak, and even my hands were small. Even though I worked very hard, I could not make enough firewood, and the family criticized me: “Waking up late in the morning and lazy,” they told me.

They didn’t let my older brother or my sister work. He was weak and she was a girl. That was how I became a house servant. Even so, I was already secretly planning to go to find my real parents someday.

Nobody ever celebrated my birthday, and my clothes were only oversized hand-me-downs from my brother. Even so, from my days at school, I had found words that encouraged me. This was something I had read in my childhood. “If you have a reason to live, you can overcome any difficulties.” It was very painful, but drawing me forward was an image from my early years – a faintly remembered image of my mother.

Left Adoptive Parents after Nine Long Years

On August 14, 2009, an incident occurred. The adoptive brother I grew up with went swimming in a river with his friends and drowned. After that, my adoptive parents’ attitude toward me turned even more harsh. The father often beat me severely. If something was even a little wrong, I was abused and cursed. Long days of tears and blood passed in that way.

On August 20, 2010, my adoptive mother went to her parents’ house in Kyongsung county in North Hamgyong with the younger sister. The housework at Kyongsung became even more difficult compared to that at Gangwon. Grazing livestock and doing agricultural work. I really could not afford any break and worked to exhaustion.

One day in September, I lost a chick somehow. Because of this, my adoptive father beat me badly, all the while abusing and cursing me. Even though I worked so hard, he was constantly angry with me.  I could not understand why I was treated so badly because of one little chick. In this house, my existence was worth less than a chick.

The next day, on September 10, 2010, I finally decided to leave my home, and find my parents. When I was about to leave, the first thing that came to my mind was my homeroom teacher and classmates. The teacher who always gave me strength and courage and cared for me with great warmth! All of the classmates who sought and pursued their dreams as students! “My beloved school, take care,” I thought. “All classmates, take care! I’m leaving!” Thus, I walked away from my adoptive parents’ house where I had lived for nine years.

Unable to Remember My Parents’ Names

I was separated from my parents when I was too little, so I knew neither my mother’s nor my father’s name. The only option was to find the house of my adoptive mother’s parents. Searching only by the name was more difficult than searching for needles in the plain. I was determined that, even if I died, at least it would be in my parent’s hometown.

Once I made up my mind, nothing was scary, even though I had no money and I left home with only one meal prepared. I went to Pyonggang Station, but that train had been changed. Instead, the one I needed would leave from Sepo Station because a tunnel had collapsed. And Sepo was more than 100 miles from Pyonggang.

I set out walking along the tracks. Before long, I heard someone call out behind me. It was two soldiers asking how far I was going. I briefly mentioned that I was headed to Kyongsung. They were also going toward North Hamgyong and offered to walk together. I was happy to have the company. However, the soldiers walked so fast that I had trouble keeping up. They looked back at me and gestured that I should hurry along. So even though I was out of breath, I hurried and managed to keep up. I reached Sepo Station late that night, and the train was departing just as I got there. I quickly boarded the train, and my legs ached. I was ravenous.

 I had already eaten the one meal I had packed when I left home, so I had nothing more to eat. I just closed my eyes and settled in to endure the hunger. But the two soldiers gave me two Korean pancakes, which I wolfed down. After that, I slept. When I woke the next morning, the train seemed to have traveled a long way. Kowon was the next station, and that was where I had to change trains.

Sent Back by Security Before Reaching My Destination

A problem arose. There was a security crackdown in effect on the railways. One officer, looking at my student certificate, asked who my guarantor was.

“I don’t have one,” I admitted, so I was taken off the train with about 50 other people who also had no civil certificate. I was fortunate that two of them were children, and I was very small and thin for my age, so they did not treat me roughly.

However, we had gotten off just before the destination station, and now the train continued on, leaving me behind. A railway public security officer was trying to send the two unguarded children back on a train bound for Sepo. What should I do? Return to Sepo even though I had reached Kowon?

That is what I did, but when the train reached the station one stop before Sepo, it stopped and the door opened. I decided that If I didn’t get off here, I would be returned to Pyonggang. I jumped off without hesitation. Then I ran hard toward the opposite side where a train had just started toward Kowon Station. I jumped on.

After riding for hours, I arrived at Kowon Station. I immediately asked other people if there was a train bound for North Hamgyong. Fortunately, the train was scheduled to depart at 2pm. It was then just past 11am.

There was no food in my bag, only a pair of shoes. When I had left Pyonggang, I had bought them at a military store at a very reasonable price, using my adoptive father’s military discount. I put the shoes in my bag thinking that If I needed money, I could sell them for a profit.

Some seniors and the women were lined up for business, working from small, four-wheeled mini carriages to sell things at the edge of the road. According to one of them, the market didn’t officially open until 2 pm. Unfortunately, the train would be leaving at the same 2 pm.

What should I do? When I turned to leave, the woman asked me whether I wanted to buy anything. I told her rather I wanted to sell. She stared at me and, as if to help me, told me she could buy it. I sold her my shoes for 300 won.

Then I bought noodles and 1 kg of pears with the money and put them in my bag. At 2 pm, many people gathered near the station. I quickly rushed into the train. Though I was worried that the crackdown would affect this train too, I fell asleep near the door of the dining car at the back. Somebody came to wake me while I was sleeping. I jerked awake in fear. What would I do if it were a railway public security officer?

I opened my eyes slightly and saw a young lady who worked in the dining car. I was relieved. She asked me how far I needed to go, so I answered Kyongsung.  She helped me to enter a room where she said I could sleep comfortably. Then she closed the door and went out. The car had a dining compartment at the middle, but few people came to it. After a while, she brought me some food, and I thanked her. She treated me especially well.

Meeting my Adoptive Mother and Sister in Kyongsung

I arrived at Kyongsung the next afternoon. Nine years earlier, I had left with no one to see me off, and here I was again. No one was there to meet me.

When I got off, a new feeling washed through me. That day was September 12, 2010, exactly nine years after I had left. It quickly grew dark outside. I spent the night in a waiting room in front of the station, and wandered around trying to find an elderly lady, Han Bok Duk, who was my grandmother’s friend. It was the only name I had to go on. I walked around all night and found no one who knew her. Finally, there was nothing I could do but return to the waiting room.

I was wondering, am I now a real orphan? Then a stranger sitting next to me in the waiting room asked where I was from. He was dressed like a beggar, the same as me, so he was not intimidating. When he listened carefully to my story, he asked what was in my bag. “I only have the clothes I wore,” replied. The man invited me to go eat, as if he was hungry. I was tempted, but I asked him if he had the money. It made me nervous, if I had to pay for my meal. He seemed to be in the business of receiving old clothes at the market and reselling them. He was like an adult Kotschebi (homeless street kid). He asked for the clothes in my bag.

“Let’s think about it after eating some food,” I answered, following him to the stall. As I was trying to sell my clothes, someone grabbed my arm and called my name. I looked around, and there stood my adopted mother and sister, who had returned to her parents’ home!

We were surprised to see each other, and she asked me, “What happened at my house? How did you get here…?” I told her everything that had happened. After listening to my story, my adoptive mother asked me to follow her. I suspected we might be heading to my grandmother’s house. That house stands right next to Kyongsung Station. As we walked, it looked more and more familiar. Wasn’t this a place I had seen many times? My adoptive mother handed me over to my grandmother, telling me to obey her well, then she left.

Nine Years of Servitude Ending, but Soon Moving on

　In this way, my nine years as a servant ended. My grandmother’s life, however, seemed even more difficult. The car which used to be there was gone, and she had moved into a smaller house. My grandmother, uncle, and aunt didn’t seem happy to see me. They urged me to return to my adoptive mother. It felt ironic that I was her real grandson and a real nephew to my uncle and aunt. Why did they hate me so much? How could they treat me so coldly?

Is it not enough, making me live like a servant in another person’s house for nine years?  But then telling me to go back after I had come all this way? Was there no guilty conscience? I could not help feeling anger. Regret welled up to overflowing, and so did the tears.

However, my half-brother came to me and seemed pleased to see me. Only this brother welcomed me after all. Even though our mothers were different, we shared the same father, so we were brothers with good feelings between us.

My half-brother and grandmother had a good relationship and they wanted to live together. For the time being, my brother told me that I could go to work in a cornfield and went out. It seems that my grandmother contacted my father in Chongjin and reported that I had come back. When my father heard it, he apparently told her that she should send me to him in Chongjin as if he was eager to see me.

While I was near Chongjin, my brother had a birthday. They also celebrated my 15th birthday, which had been three days earlier.

My father was waiting for me at Chongjin station. It was raining that day, and when I arrived, I noticed a man with glasses holding an umbrella. I knew this was my father. This is how I finally met my father again after nine years.

My Mother Is in Japan, and I Am Watched by the State Security Department

Even my father knew nothing about my mother’s whereabouts. Maybe because they were divorced and he was no longer interested? At every opportunity, I searched for someone who might have some kind of connection with my mother, and asked about her. But no one knew anything. On March 17, 2011, when I visited another distant relative and asked her about my uncle’s address, she would not tell me.

Later, I found out that she was afraid all the remittances my mother was sending from Japan would start going directly to me instead of to my uncle. In North Korea, where supplies and money are scarce, it can be a matter of life or death for a relative to lose the money they regularly received.

I could only give up and stop asking about the address. The next day was International Women’s Day, and I found myself wondering, how would my mother be spending this day? When I saw the sun on the eastern horizon, my tears flowed again.

Finally, I heard from my paternal grandmother that my mother was in Japan. From that moment, my life’s goal became finding my mother. As long as we were under the same sky, I would be able to find her! But it actually took a few more years before I was finally able to meet her.

On August 4, 2013, my uncle Song Ho, a relative who knew my mother’s whereabouts, visited me, and I was able to take a step closer to finding my mother. Uncle Song Ho knew my mother’s phone number. He suggested that we go somewhere that I could call my mother. I was overjoyed and followed him. I met my mother over the phone for the first time in 12 years. When I returned home afterward, I couldn’t sleep for thinking about my mother. Since I had learned her phone number, I decided then that I would go and meet her.

However, the opportunity did not come easily. I had no idea how to go about achieving this goal. It felt weird, with the eyes of the authorities always following me. The security department is a secret police, and their mission is to track the movements of each person in detail. Their official name is National Security Department, and if they observe something suspicious, severe punishment awaits.

I was ordered to appear and was interrogated. They wanted to know: “Where is your mother? And have you had any recent contact?” Judging from their questions, they seemed to know that my mother was in Japan.

“If you know, please tell me” I asked. “I can’t even remember my mother’s face because she left when I was only six. I don’t even know if my mother is alive or dead”, I told them.

I was sure that the eyes of surveillance would be strict. If that happened, I would lose the opportunity to meet my mother. On September 14, 2016, I decided to leave the house.

My stepmother was my father’s third wife, and she said bad things about my mother every time I tried to talk about her. By this time, I was a young, 21-year-old man, but I sassed her like a child when she said bad things. Living under one roof made the relationship awkward and made it hard to stay at home. I spent a few days at my friend Hyo Sung’s house and went to my uncle’s house in Ranam.

 Mother Sent Someone to Bring Me to Her, but They Had to Return Alone

My uncle, who lives in the Ranam area, said, “It looks like your mother sent someone in July to take you to her, but I had to send him back.”

I never wasted any of the money my mother sent me. I considered that money the most important thing and felt that I should not waste it all the time. So I wanted to entrust my father with my mother’s feelings when I moved. I bought a house with my mother’s money and also bought one fixed phone and two mobile phones.

But I was worried. On December 25, 2016, I called my mother and asked her to send me a large sum of money. My mother would have been struggling to live in Japan, and she had not been earning much. Then I felt, what kind of a son would demand huge amounts of money when no one gives her any money?　　

I hung up and cried. It was very difficult. There were still things I had to do to get to my mother.

When I woke up in the morning on January 26, 2017, I cleaned my room, stared at the distant sun, and wept. What was my mother doing right now? Because today was my mother’s 49th birthday.

“Mom! Please wait for me! I’ll be coming soon!”

I gave my brother 2,000 won in Chinese Yuan. However, he ran through the money within a single month. What did he do with it? He could have earned money by doing some business with that amount of money. I quarreled with him because of that.

Letter from Mother: “Don’t Get a Girlfriend”

On February 3, 2017, I received a letter from my mother. It included a picture of her. She also included a picture she took with her sister, Hyang Suk. The letter said that I should go to the daughter of Ok Song, one of my mother’s acquaintances. On February 22, I went looking for Ok Song’s daughter, as my mother said. Ok Song’s husband was happy to welcome me, and his daughters Mi Sung and Mi Kee also welcomed me. As I was working at the time, I couldn’t visit their house often.

One of the ladies in accounting department told me that this was the year I would have to join the People’s Army. That caught me by surprise. At that time, I had almost completed preparing for the trip to join my mother.

I knew that if I went into the army, all my efforts would have been wasted. It meant that if I joined the army, I would be unable to move freely while in the military for 8 or 9 years. All my possibilities and plans for going to Japan would disappear.

The only one way I could avoid the army was to go and work in the mine. Therefore, on February 26, I started at the Raksan mine. The day I went, my juniors and friends saw me off. There was a letter from my mother saying “I hope you won’t get a girlfriend now.” Apparently, at that time my mother was already determined to help me reach Japan.

It must have cost a great deal when my mother had earlier sent someone to take me to Japan. How painful and discouraged she must have been when her uncle had to send the person back. I don’t know how much I cried when I opened that letter and saw the picture of my mother.

Gazing at the photo, I realized how beautiful my mother was. She looked to be still in her thirties. I missed her more and more. For me, it was enough to thank her for giving birth to me. But I was overjoyed that she loved me and wasn’t giving up plans to take me to Japan. I always felt that my mother was watching over me.

When I was called in by the State Security Department, I told them earnestly that I would work hard, and that I of course would like to see my mother but that I had no idea where she was. Because the security department had its eye on me, I knew I mustn’t stand out more than anyone else. I had to live simply. I felt insecure. My constant thought was to live quietly, find a way to safely cross the river, and go to join my mother.

I heard my mother’s voice over the phone, but I could hardly speak

While I was working in the Raksan mine, I learned to work faster than others. I also learned skills from engineers.

However, one day, the mine collapsed and I was trapped there for two days, unsure if I would live or die. After that incident, I decided to quit the mine. I didn’t want to die so easily.

I left the mine and headed to my relatives’ house. When I went to my brother’s house in Ranam, he told me that my mother had sent me some luggage. But he only gave me half. They had sold the other half secretly.

The next day, I decided to go to my aunt’s house. I couldn’t live there, but she bought clothes and shoes for me and listened to all my requests. Ah, I really do miss her daughters, Gyon Young and Ye Young, and even my aunt’s husband. They treated me so well.

It was time to decide. Finally, after helping my aunt, I called my mother because I had decided to go and join her.

As I called, I was wondering where I could reach her. I thought of one place and tried calling there. My mother answered and told me “I’ve been waiting.” Listening to my mother’s voice made me want to rush right away. I wanted to tell her that I would be going, but I held myself back, because all phone conversations may be wiretapped. I called my sister, but I couldn’t speak plainly, so I wondered if she was understanding. If I had spoken carelessly, I would have been arrested and imprisoned.

I handed my aunt the 1,600 won that I had received from my mother. Before I left, I met all my friends and went to Sung Mee’s house. I implicitly asked Sung Mee if she was willing to go to Japan. She didn’t answer, but I knew her parents probably intended to continue living in North Korea, so I decided I must go to Japan alone.

Is my friend Hyo Seong Associated with the State Security Department?

One day I happened to meet my friend Hyo Seong, but things felt different, like he was somehow living in a different country. Then he looked at me and asked was I going to meet my mother. I simply answered, “I have never thought about that.” Seeing Hyo Seong asking such a straightforward question made me suspect he might have some connection with the State Security Department.

So, having doubts about Hyo Seong, I watched him carefully, but after all, he didn’t seem to be connected. Having the security department watching is as worrisome as having a bomb nearby. Anyway, I decided that it would be okay if Hyo Seong and I went together.

I made plans to go to Hoeryong, a town on the border with China, to pick mushrooms. Then, once we arrived, I told him the real reason we were there in the depths of the mountain. Hyo Seong followed along, saying nothing. Then, I decided we would head to the border at Tumen River.

On August 22, 2017, I met my father a few days before leaving for Hoeryong. I greeted him and told him that I was going to gather mushrooms. I even called when I was in Hoeryong.

This was my farewell greeting: “I have no particular affection toward my dad. Even when I was in Chongjin, he was hospitalized and was always drunk because he liked alcohol. Of course, I was 16 years away from my mother so I should have no particular affection either. But you are my father.  My mother is the one who gave me birth, the one I was always looking for. I want to forget all the pain when she left me and I want to be with her because I’ve always missed her.”

Crossing the Deadly Tuman River Border

We watched along the river for a long time but saw no security guard from the State Security Department. I determined to stay cautious until reaching China on the other side. I concentrated on calming my nerves so that I would not miss hearing even a faint footstep or voice.

At 8:30pm, I headed for the riverbank. My hands shook, and my heart trembled, and it felt like my heartbeat was transmitted to my legs. I came right to the riverbank, but there was no reaction, so apparently there were no guards. My heart calmed down and my mind became clearer. When I took off my clothes and entered the river, I could feel the violent current of the water. I grabbed Hyo Seong’s hand and swam. However, Hyo Seong could not swim well and lost his bag. There were clothes and money in it, but I had no choice but to continue across the river. Once there, I ran. No one was around. I turned and looked back for Hyo Seong. However, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find him. There was no reply when I called. I wondered if he had drowned, but then, when I was about to head out, I saw Hyo Seong running toward me. He said that he had been hiding in the grass because he saw some light.

Then we changed our clothes and dug up the soil to bury our resident registration cards and wet clothes. There was a strong, high iron fence at the Chinese border, and we had difficulty getting over it, but immediately after climbing over, we found a wide road.

When we made it to the road, we wept and hugged each other. They were tears of joy, for overcoming the most difficult part in going to join my mother. First, I walked along the road. It was night, so the walking was easy. This was a national highway running along the North Korean border, and there were traffic surveillance cameras. When I noticed a camera, I walked with my face hidden. After a while, I grew very tired and laid down at the edge of the road. I don’t know how long I slept, but I awoke to the smell of dust as a heavy truck roared right by me. He had only missed me by about 10 cm. That was a dangerous moment. I had felt that I might die there in China.

We climbed the mountain around 3am – the middle of the night. So, we spent the night there and walked to the depths of the mountains early the next morning. We walked for so long our feet became blistered, and Hyo Seong’s shoes ripped open. Under these circumstances, we traversed three mountains. It started raining around 2pm, so we got under a pine tree. We decided to try and get some sleep so we gathered firewood for a fire. However, I wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the mountains. So I told Hyo Seong that we should walk a little farther, even if it was painful. Hyo Seong agreed.

Meeting an Ethnic Korean Picking Mushrooms

After walking for about 30 minutes, we saw someone walking the other way. I asked what he was doing there, and speaking Korean, he explained he had come to pick matsutake mushrooms. I told him about us.

When he heard our story, he was concerned that we hadn’t eaten. He took us to another local man who had come with him to the mountain for the Matsutake mushroom season. The old man prepared warm rice for us there. After we ate, they let us ride his motorbike and took us to a place called Kaishantun in the city of Longjing.

Then he took us to a room in a three-story apartment building. The room had been empty ever since the previous tenants had moved out six years earlier. The room had all the appliances including refrigerator, rice cooker and a toilet. Thanks to the ethnic Korean people of China who took care of us, the way was opened to connect with the IDC (Immigration Control Center) in Thailand.

The person I met in the mountain also helped me to call my mother’s phone. Finally, we were saved by the kind ethnic Koreans and were taken a step closer to my mother.

The word “mother” is not just a word, but an expression for embracing love for children. It was not that I crossed the river because of courage. Instead, it was my mother’s heart, loving me and wanting to see me, drawing me on, all the way, leading me here.

My mother had always deeply regretted leaving me and often criticized herself because of it. That is why I have so much sympathy for her.

But I do not blame anyone anymore. God led me this way through His plan, which was formed before I was even born. People simply live according to His plan. I want to always live with my mother and will never leave her. From now on, I will support my mother. She has struggled in life so that she could have a life filled with smiles. Mom! I love you dearly!

September 17, 2017      Sung Kook

<Note> Some of the names in the text have been changed in consideration of the safety of the lives of those involved. (Editorial department)