A Thousand Miles to Freedom (16 page)

“Big sister, is that you? It's Eunsun! We're alive; I'm in Seoul with Mom.”

When Keumsun responded, I broke out in tears at the sound of her voice. I cried tears of joy while gripping the receiver tightly. As usual, Keumsun was the stronger one. At the other end of the line, she kept her calm. But with the officers keeping track of the time, I had not a second to lose. I quickly gave her all the essential information.

“I can't talk for long, because I'm being interrogated right now, but don't worry, everything's going fine. Mom's doing well too. As soon as we can get out of here, we'll call you to tell you everything.”

When I hung up, I felt a massive sense of relief. I went back to face my interrogators. I was still locked in a cell, but nothing could bother me anymore. I had just relieved myself of an immense burden.

The questioning started once more, again with no end in sight. Overall, my interrogations went fairly smoothly, especially since I later learned that some people were forced to take lie detector tests.

After a week of discussion, everything stopped for three days. It was the holidays in this country. I walked in circles in my room. After the three days were up, things resumed exactly as they'd been going. It all seemed so … fastidious, interminable, exaggerated to me. Would we have risked our lives as we'd done and gone through such hardships if we were spies? My pride was a little wounded. I didn't appreciate them questioning my honest intentions.

*   *   *

One day, however, the torment ended, and I was allowed to return to the living quarters and see my mom. Finally, we could speak to each other. I began to understand that I had passed the final test. Our morale improved dramatically. All the more so because we were finally allowed outside for some fresh air. We were treated to a picnic at the top of the tallest building in Korea, the 63 Building. It was a tall tower of salmon-colored glass that glistened under the sunlight. At such a height, the view was phenomenal, with the river below our feet and the mountains in the horizon. We could never quite forget that we were still in police custody, however. They also drove us to a shopping center to buy some new clothes. They paid for us, but they had no fashion sense. But we didn't mind, we would take whatever they gave us. We were finally being taken care of, fed, clothed—it would have been quite churlish for us to complain.

After a month, we were told that we were being transferred to a special center to learn how life worked in South Korea. All defectors from the north had to pass through this center, called Hanawon, where we took an accelerated ten-week course on capitalism. However, this course seemed to me just as painful as the interrogations. Once more, I found myself locked inside with a bunch of poorly educated, coarse people. There were disagreements all the time in the rooms. During the day, we would take theoretical courses where we were taught about the history of Korea, the capitalist system, and how South Korean society functioned. It was abstract and very boring. From time to time, we would be allowed to leave the premises for a “practical experience.” A visit to the post office, for example, where we were shown how to send a package. Then we were brought to a bank where we were taught how to use an ATM. I was both fascinated and completely lost. I didn't understand any of the explanations; I come from an entirely different world, and I had no concept of the financial systems that were being explained to me.

In order to make up for my many years off from education, I decided to take classes with teenagers, instead of with adults, every Wednesday and Thursday. For the first time since we left Eundeok, I returned to school. It was a shock for me. I started learning about math, literature, and history again, after a hiatus of nine years. And I started to learn a little bit of English.

At Hanawon, I typed Korean for the first time on a computer. In China, I had been to an Internet caf
é
once or twice, but since I didn't really know much about computers or IT, it didn't do much for me. Here, I was taught about technology. I was also surprised to learn that South Korea was one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world. But this reintegration into my studies was hard. I didn't remember having to put so much effort into schoolwork before. I had forgotten everything. And I, the former good student of Eundeok, started to doubt my abilities in the presence of these youths who were much quicker to learn than I was.

Fortunately, the time went by quickly, and the day we were allowed to leave Hanawon finally arrived. One day, we were told that we would be taking photos for our ID cards. I was so excited. It was a momentous occasion. I finally felt that I was really going to become a citizen. That morning, my mom and I tried to make ourselves look pretty using what means we had. I found a little bit of makeup, and did my best. This photo was so important to me. A childhood memory surfaced, of when Papa and I had taken that photo in the little photo shop in Eundeok. It seemed so long ago, from another lifetime.

When the camera flashed, I put all my efforts into looking my best. But when I saw the result, I was disappointed. I did not look as nice as I had hoped. Na
ï
vely, I told myself that they were probably going to touch up the photo a little. I quickly learned, however, that they had more important things to worry about. But this photo, even if I didn't like it, was an important milestone for me. It meant that we were going to have official papers soon. Above all, it meant that we would soon be free, outside, living like real South Koreans. At least, that's what I hoped. Every week, a group consisting of seven or eight defectors left Hanawon to enter the outside world. We started counting the days until we could leave. The time had almost come.

*   *   *

After nearly three months of classes that were often quite dull, the day finally came. I will remember this date forever: December 28, 2006. The night beforehand, we packed all our belongings in cardboard boxes. The morning of the twenty-eighth, we got on the bus and said good-bye—forever—to our life as fugitives.

Accompanied by seven other defectors, we rode in silence to Seoul and to our new lives. On the way there, we had to make a stop to take care of a few last administrative tasks before continuing our lives in South Korea. First, we stopped by the administrative center of the district where we were going to live from now on. There, I received my South Korean ID. For the first time in nine years, I no longer had to live in hiding! It was such a burden lifted off my shoulders. Even if, in the moment, I didn't quite realize everything it represented.

Finally, we were brought to a bank to open an account. In Hanawon, we had learned to our great delight that the government financially supports defectors to help them settle down in South Korea. It was such a wonderful surprise to discover this country's hospitality. After fighting, with my best efforts, to survive in misery since I was eleven, this financial aid package was something I wasn't expecting. More than ever, I was sure that it had been a good idea for us to come to South Korea, to leave behind our illegal status in Shanghai.

I received eight million won (at the time, about the equivalent of six thousand five hundred dollars) and my mom received twenty million (just a bit over sixteen thousand dollars). But the rent in Seoul was so high that fifteen million were immediately put to use to cover the costs of our apartment. When we got to the bank, our money had already been transferred to the owner of the apartment.

We were given the terms of our bank accounts, and the numbers of our bank cards. We were ready. We were now “normal” South Koreans. The only thing left for us to do was to explore our new apartment.

*   *   *

Night was falling when the bus dropped us off in front of our final destination. I got off, leaving behind me forever those three transitional months that had felt so much longer. Finally, we could start our new life. But for the moment, I was exhausted after such a long day.

In front of us, there was an immense apartment complex. There were thousands of these in South Korea. This building had fifteen floors. It appeared a bit worn out and was at least twenty years old. I wasn't expecting anything amazing, but still, I was a bit surprised. However after a year of wandering, it was luxury. After so many years, for the first time since leaving Eundeok, I would have a place to call my own. My joy was indescribable. With my mom, I headed toward the building in this unfamiliar city that would become our home.

According to the instructions given to us during the bus ride, the final step was to go to the office that managed the building. There, someone would be waiting for us to hand over the keys to the apartment.

Timidly, we walked into the room on the first floor. A woman was indeed waiting for us. She coldly received us, checked our names, and completed her tasks without offering us the least word of welcome.

“I already cleaned the place for you. Here are your keys, you are in building 805, apartment 804. It's on the ninth floor. To get there, you have to cross the main courtyard.”

And then she sent us on our way. Each of us with a little bag, we walked across the courtyard to building 805.

We took the elevator up to the ninth floor. When we arrived at our apartment, I put the key in the keyhole and turned, and the door opened. I walked in and turned on the lights. In accordance with Korean tradition, we took off our shoes when we walked in, and headed toward the kitchen. To the left, a door led to a small room. It was the living room. On the floor, there was a set of large footprints consisting of dried mud. To the left, we found another little room, which even had a veranda. There were three rooms for us in this place, a veritable palace compared to what we had been living in.

The apartment was empty and dirty. There was no furniture anywhere and the gas didn't work. The place was covered with dust. The people who lived there last had left it in a deplorable state. The woman we'd met downstairs had told us she had cleaned the place, but she was obviously lying.

And so, to help us really feel at home, we started to clean the place, using what we had. At that point in our lives, we couldn't tell whether we were living in reality or simply dreaming.

After an hour of cleaning, we opened up the four cardboard boxes in the living room. They had been delivered sometime during the day, before we got there. These boxes contained all the possessions we had in the world, given to us at the Hanawon center. Clothes, blankets, a rice cooker … they were secondhand items donated to us by charity, specifically, by churchgoers, we were told. It was so heartening to see other people willing to help us settle into our new lives.

Outside, night was falling over Seoul. The city lights lit up the night sky with an intensity that couldn't be found in North Korea. This metropolis really seemed to have no limits.

Mom and I explored every nook and cranny of the apartment. In this empty apartment, we suddenly felt a little lonely. For the first time since leaving Eundeok, we were truly alone in the world, just the two of us, with even Keumsun absent. There had been no one here waiting for us, and we didn't know anyone in this building, this city, or even this country, which from this day forth was to be our home.

*   *   *

It seems absurd and ungrateful, but all of a sudden, after making it all the way to South Korea and obtaining the papers that we never imagined we'd receive, after the sheer joy of this day when we had finally and totally escaped from our life of hiding, after being welcomed and housed in this new country, I was overcome by an immense feeling of sadness. It was as if everything, all the burdens and hardships of the past nine years, came back to me at that moment. The future loomed ahead like unfamiliar territory we had to conquer. I was overwhelmed. Mom must have been feeling the same way.

After cleaning the place a little more thoroughly, we gave in to our fatigue and fell asleep. We didn't have dinner, since we didn't have any food in the apartment, and we had neither the courage nor the desire to venture down into the city to buy something.

And so I took out and unfolded our four blankets and laid them out side by side in the center of the room. Mom and I lay down over them. I snuggled up against her. We turned off the lights. Warmed by each other's body heat, we fell asleep.

 

16

As soon as we settled down a little, we got to work right away at building our new lives. As always, our priority was to find a way to support ourselves. The financial aid offered by the government was only enough to last us a few months in this country, where the cost of living was even higher than in China, never mind North Korea.

We had it all planned out. Mom was going to find a job while I went back to school. I would finally be able to make up my nine years without schooling, before it was too late to ever return to school. We were not about to rest on our laurels and play the role of tourists in South Korea.

Soon, my mom found a full-time job as a babysitter. It was a common profession in this country, because there were very few day-care centers, and mothers who wished to continue their careers had to rely on nannies to take care of their children. And so, my mom left to go stay with a family that lived far away from us. She only came home once every fifteen days.

For one year, I essentially lived alone in that big apartment. I was enrolled in school, and schoolwork occupied most of my days, since in South Korea you had to study well into the night if you wanted to stay afloat among your classmates.

Living alone was a new challenge that helped develop my character. I learned to take care of issues that arose in day-to-day life, and to find a balance in the way I spent my time. I had quite a hard time at first. Since I had almost no free time, I rarely did any cooking and ate out most of the time, like a lot of other South Koreans. There are so many cheap and enticing restaurants here. In the mornings, I usually didn't eat breakfast, and instead drank a glass of milk. In fact, for the first few weeks, I would drink several glasses a day … until I started having stomachaches, which I soon learned were caused by my overconsumption of milk. I'd never drunk so much milk in my life. How ironic: I, someone who survived through a famine, was now suffering from overconsumption!