A Thousand Miles to Freedom (19 page)

In reality, all that Kim Jong-un and his family wanted was to stay in power for as long as possible. They didn't care about the over twenty-two million North Koreans who were wasting away in misery.

However, I believe that the regime will not remain for much longer. Officially, no one can make such predictions with absolute certainty, but information obtained by illegal smugglers along the Chinese border indicates that the North Korean population no longer has as much faith in the regime. Whenever I hear from new defectors from the north, their stories indicate that the disenchantment in the general population is growing stronger and stronger. I find myself thinking that maybe Kim Jong-un will soon find himself face-to-face with a revolution, similar to those during the Arab Spring.

And if that is ever the case, then I will finally be able to go back and visit my hometown, Eundeok. I will see my childhood home again and, most of all, I hope to see my friends from school again. In Seoul, sometimes I daydream about these reunions. I miss my friends so much! In South Korea, everyone regularly sees friends from primary school; it's a social circle that follows you throughout the rest of your life and is always there for you during difficult times. Whenever I see my South Korean friends leave to meet up with their childhood friends, I secretly envy them. It's during these times that I realize that the North Korean regime robbed me of a proper childhood.

But I'm not about to just sit around and spend my days moping. Here in South Korea, I have a future, and I want to be able to give hope to others. Many of my fellow North Koreans have a difficult time adjusting to this ultracompetitive society. They are depressed, because they try their best but don't always succeed at integrating themselves. They feel inferior compared to the native South Koreans. They try to imitate South Koreans, but South Koreans often look at them with disdain. Often, other refugees like me start feeling resentful and fall into depression.

That's why I want to achieve my goals, so that I may one day remind others like myself that there is still hope for them. I want to show my compatriots who have settled down in this country that it is possible to be happy, that it is possible to succeed here. I know that my dreams are ambitious, but I am sincere in them, and I believe I can achieve them. Optimism is a trait that has been deeply ingrained in me. It was passed along to me from my mother, and it is without doubt this sense of positivity that helped us both survive all the hardships we've ever endured, that carried us all the way to our new lives in South Korea.

 

Epilogue

September 2014

In July 2012, I gazed out the window as my airplane slowed to a stop along the runway. It was already dark outside, but even so I couldn't wait to explore this new country, this country that I had only been able to see in my imagination until this moment. Through the darkness, I could make out rolling fields, the countryside dotted with a few houses. In front of me was the little airport of Springfield, Missouri. So this was it then, the United States? I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed. I had been envisioning tall skyscrapers. Instead, this place looked more like a ghost town.

My long journey to get here began in Seoul. From Seoul, I took a long flight to Chicago, and from there transferred to another flight to reach my final destination of Springfield. At long last, here I was, in the Midwest! Two other students, who had been on the same flight as me, waited with me at the airport. They were from Belarus. The school representatives came to pick us up, and we all climbed into a car. The night was pitch-black. Sleepily, the other students and I rode across the countryside. My stomach grumbled from hunger. After about half an hour on the road, we made a pit stop at a fast-food restaurant along the way, and I ordered a hamburger. I had to pay for the burger myself, which surprised me. In Korea, guests usually aren't expected to pay—the hosts take care of everything. That is our tradition. When we finished eating, we started driving again and continued until we reached the university's campus, our final destination. I found my dorm room and, exhausted by the long journey, I immediately drifted into sleep.

In the morning, my stomach was grumbling again. I decided to leave the safety of my dorm to find something to eat and visit my new environs. However, when I headed out, I was surprised to see that this town was so small, that really it seemed I was in the middle of a field. I walked along the streets and couldn't find a single store. It was so different from Seoul, where little minimarkets lined each street corner. But whenever I crossed paths with people, they greeted me spontaneously with a bright, warm hello. These kind gestures made me smile inside. The people here were so friendly. I was now truly in the United States of America.

*   *   *

My arrival in the United States was the realization of a dream that had formed many months earlier in Seoul. Following the suggestion of a friend of mine, I learned of an online advertisement posted by the American Embassy, which offered scholarships for students to study abroad in America. In South Korea, all students dream of going abroad, especially to the United States. America is the country that Koreans most often aspire to visit, because it's the most powerful country in the world. I myself had also had a desire to travel there, to experience American life for myself and to expand my horizons. Even when I was in North Korea, I found America fascinating. In school as a child, I learned that the United States was our enemy. Americans had blond hair, big noses, and green eyes—or so that's what I was told. For us, the “white” stereotype applied only to Americans—we knew nothing at all of the Europeans' existence. This fascination with the outside world still exists in North Korea: some North Koreans even watch American TV shows in secret. Even though doing so is extremely dangerous, seeing what the outside world is like allows them to dream. In fact, some people who leave North Korea, traveling to Thailand or Laos via China, seek asylum in the United States rather than in South Korea. As for me, when I applied for my scholarship, I wanted to see the United States, but I also wanted to raise international awareness about the human rights violations still occuring in North Korea.

And that was how I explained it during my interview at the American Embassy. I tried to be as honest as possible while applying for this scholarship, emphasizing the values that I believe in. I did not intend to go to the United States to make money, or to get a job, but to have an experience. I recounted my story, how I had left my homeland due to hunger. I explained that I now had a different kind of hunger: the hunger to see the rest of the world. I wanted to learn how to live with others. The embassy officials asked me a lot of questions. This in fact encouraged me, and I left the appointment with my hopes high. But still I didn't mention the interview to anyone, in case I was disappointed. Studying abroad was, at that point, still just a far-off dream.

One of the requirements was that I had to take the TOEFL, a test of English as a foreign language, a language that I spoke quite poorly. And my fear became a reality: I received an awful score on the exam. To be eligible for the scholarship, a minimum score of 61 was required, but I only received a measly 45. I felt so discouraged. Fortunately for me, the embassy decided to give me another chance, perhaps because my interview had gone so well. I felt encouraged again and studied relentlessly to improve my score.

Finally, a month before the departure date, I was informed that I had been awarded the scholarship. Only three North Korean defectors were selected, and I was one of them. How happy I was! My mom was so proud that she couldn't help but tell every one of her friends, “My daughter is going to America!”

*   *   *

And so that's the story of how, in July 2012, I headed for Missouri, to stay for a year. I was going to improve my English and study psychology, a subject that I am very passionate about. Actually, this was not the first time that I had been to the Western world. A few months earlier, I had had the opportunity to visit another well-known city: Paris! I spent a week there, to present the French edition of the book you now hold in your hands to French journalists and to the French public. I stayed in a small, very old hotel near the Champs-
É
lys
é
es, the most famous street in the world. My schedule was packed with interviews. The French journalists asked me so many questions. They had never before met a real North Korean, and so they were fascinated, and very kind to me. I was even featured on early-morning TV. We had interviews in caf
é
s, and took photos along the Seine River. It was near the end of winter, and there was still a chilly breeze along the river, but I remained calm in front of the cameras. To present the book and provide testimony to the human rights situation in North Korea was my mission, and the purpose of my work.

*   *   *

It was strange to be in that historic city, where the lifestyle is so urbane and sophisticated, and be talking about famine. I tried to learn as much as I could from the experience. And of course, let's not forget the French cuisine, which I had always wanted to taste. At each restaurant that we went to, I tried a new dish. The first night, I tasted foie gras, a famous French specialty. I was curious about everything, and even tried saddle of lamb, and of course French cheese. When someone offered me blue cheese, the first time I politely accepted but grimaced at the sight. It looked moldy and smelled very strong. So I carefully took a small bite … and, to my surprise, really liked it! So then I tried it again twice more. Thinking about it, it occurred to me that cheese is to the French what
kimchi
is to the Koreans. And the French desserts were so delicious, too. I also did a bit of tourism, and took a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower. I like that photo very much. When I returned to Seoul, I set it as the background picture on my cell phone, as a souvenir of that very special week.

*   *   *

In Missouri, the atmosphere was very different, but as the days passed, I found myself more and more charmed by the Midwest, and by the people there. I've often heard that to really get to know America, you have to go out to the countryside, and I believe it. The people there were so polite. They hold the door open for you, which never happens in Korea. This friendliness is one aspect of Western culture that I really appreciate. Of course, there were also less kind people: twice, I was insulted by racist drivers as they drove by. But they were the exception. There, I was able to make friends from all over the world. I discovered that American society is “cosmopolitan” and “mixed.” There is no typical “American.” One of my friends had a car, and we often went to the neighboring Walmart to shop together. It was the main leisure activity there. I loved seeing all it had to offer, even groceries. I survived a famine as a little girl, after all, so it's only normal that I'm now drawn to food. The prices were much more affordable there than in South Korea, and we often bought supplies to have little parties in the dorms, where we also invited our neighbors. I discovered cuisines from all over the world, as well—for example, Thai food and Arab food. My Saudi friends showed me their specialty:
kapsa
, with rice and chicken. I loved it! During my stay in America, I gained some weight, because I ate so much there.

Everything was so new to me. At the beginning, I shared a room with a Chinese roommate. It was my first time sharing a room with someone who wasn't part of my family. It wasn't easy for me at first. She snored, but over time I got used to it.

Of course, I also did some tourism. I wanted to explore this big country, even if it was very expensive. I wanted to go to New York City; it's a city I had always dreamed of visiting. I often imagined myself drinking a coffee in a caf
é
there. I imagined a very international, sophisticated, luxurious city. But in fact, when I got there, it was a bit different than I had imagined. It was very touristy. The buildings were packed so closely together that it sometimes made it feel hard to breathe, almost like I was being suffocated. All the same, however, that city really is at the center of the world—I could feel that, and I was thrilled to be there and experience it. But overall I prefer Chicago, which is much less condensed. It's a very high-class city.

In terms of my studies, things were much more difficult, and I had to work very hard. For about three months, I took four hours of English each day to catch up. Then the “real” psychology classes started, which was a whole new level of challenge for me, because everything was taught in English. I did my best to pay attention, but I could often only understand around half of what the professor said. And every week, I had to write an essay—which was very difficult for me. I tried my best, but I was only able to get a C in the class. It was a little discouraging, but I did not let it get me down. I recognized that it was a wonderful opportunity to have had an American classroom experience. I had heard that American students participated a lot more in class than Korean students did, but the difference wasn't too dramatic. In any event, it was the international students who had to work the hardest. But it must also be stated that a lot of American students had part-time jobs to finance their studies. That was something I highly respected, and something South Korean students, who complain so often, could learn from.

For one of my seminar classes, each student had to present his or her native country to the class. So I, of course, spoke of North Korea. I realized that no one in the room really knew much about my native country, but they were curious. Over time, I told them about the challenges I've faced, sharing my life story with them. As a result, a lot of my classmates expressed their respect for me, for having overcome everything that I've experienced. They told me that I had done something extraordinary. My American roommate was particularly fascinated by my story. She knew that I had written a book, but unfortunately, at the time, it was only available in French. She was frustrated about that and so was I. But now here it is in English, right in your hands!