by Daniel Tudor
“All of a sudden—and at the same time—my goat and pig decided to join the army!!” he said.
Of course, it did not make any sense. But he explained further.
The situation was like this: A few days before, a couple of soldiers sneaked into his barn and stole his animals. Searching for the animals, he found a note saying, “Protecting one’s country is the most sacred vocation on earth. Believing what the pig chose to do was a right thing, I am following him.—Sincerely, Your Goat.”
When he showed me the note, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to laugh or cry. Maybe the soldiers took the pig first and later came back to take the goat, too? They must have felt sorry for the old man and left a note attempting to justify their theft.
I was very upset by the incident. It was understandable that the thieves were starving and needed something to eat, but again, the loss of the pig and the goat would have been heartbreaking to my old relative. I knew how much he had been attached to them. Well, unlike what I would have done in the same situation, he kept the note neatly folded in his pocket. He said he got over that incident by looking at the crime in a way that made him feel he was feeding his own son with good meat. And if anyone asked about his pig or goat, he would answer that they volunteered to go to the army thanks to his scrupulous political education. Well, it was his way of dealing with a huge loss!
North Korean people often try to forget about their misfortune by making fun of it. For example, when I used to work in the market there was a vendor there who used to sell medicine. Although she only carried one kind of medicine—for skin problems—she had the loudest voice in the market. Once, when she was shouting at the top of her voice “Here, here! A marvelous medicine for cracked heels !”, another lady responded, “My mouth keeps opening up to ask for more food in these hungry times. Do you happen to have a medicine for that?” The surrounding crowd roared with laughter, empathizing with her sorrow and frustration.
Another notable change after the rations stopped was that the status of men and women was reversed. This was because most of the time, it became the women who took charge of the families’ livelihood by making money through market activities. As the men begun to lose their authority in the family, they became known by new nicknames, such as “the daylight bulb,” “the almighty lock” or “the bow-wow.” Let me explain:
“The daylight bulb” was a joke to describe a man who was useless—like a light bulb during the daytime. “The almighty lock,” while sounding a little more useful than the light bulb, drew on the fact that at least a family man could keep thieves away from his home. In North Korea, no matter how sturdy and strong the lock you install on your gate is, you cannot completely protect your home from thieves. Thieves always find a way in. So men are called an “almighty lock” because when they stay home all day, instead of going to work, at least they can protect their homes. A “bow-wow” has a similar meaning, comparing men to the dogs who guard houses. Despite being the brunt of so many jokes, these men could not really complain because they were dependent on the women who went out and earned for them.
There are many more jokes and funny stories that made me cry with laughter. I think you can really enjoy jokes and have a better sense of humor when you’re young and don’t have too many serious concerns. What I have felt going through all these hard times, though, is that even the best joke can lose its power when people are overwhelmed by constant worry. Sometimes I dream of a day when the people of the North and South finally meet and laugh together at silly jokes, being freed from all these troubles. What happy laughter that will be!
PART 12
Any Other Questions?
What happens if you have the same name as “the Marshal,” Kim Jong Un? Would you have to change it?
DT: There is a well-known photographer in South Korea named Kim Jong-il. And Before Kim Jong Un came to power, there was already a famous actress in South Korea with the same name. Obviously neither of these two had to change their names, though the latter is on record as having been shocked by the sudden appearance of a very unusual namesake. Jong Un (or “Jeong-eun” in South Korean Romanisation) is actually more commonly a girl’s name, too.
Je Son Lee:
I think you would have to.
Kim Jong Un rose to prominence after my defection, so I can’t talk specifically about him. But what I can tell you is that people with the same names as national founder Kim Il Sung, his wife Kim Jong Suk and his son Kim Jong Il had to change their names. You’re allowed to have the same given name as the leader or another important public figure. But you can’t share the full name of the Dear Leader.
For example, when you look at the name “Kim Jong Il,” “Kim” is the surname and “Jong Il” is his given name. You can be “Park Jong Il” or “Lee Jong Il,” but you can’t be “Kim Jong Il.” Therefore, people who had the same first and last name as the Dear Leader had to change their names after Kim Il Sung or Kim Jong Il rose to power. This didn’t affect me, of course; but I heard that the government changes your name immediately after the leader rises to power.
Since the government began deifying the Kim family, parents have taken extra caution to avoid naming their children after the leaders, even if they had different last names. They would have been too afraid to spell out first names such as “Il Sung” or “Jong Il” on the birth certificates of their children. In the West, I think parents would name their children after former presidents or royalty, hoping that they would grow up to possess their positive and admirable qualities. But in North Korea, you’re in deep trouble if you have the same name as the leader. Thus, parents wouldn’t dare to give even the first names of the leaders to their children.
One of my friends was named Kim Pyong Il—the exact same full name as one of the sons of Kim Il Sung, a half-brother of Kim Jong Il. As a result, local officials would talk about my friend—just because he shared the same name as Kim Il Sung’s son.
And there are still many people who have had to change their names for other reasons, including people with names commonly found in Japan. Such names include “Soon-ja” (“Junko” in Japanese), “Chun-ja” (“Haruko”), “Kyung-ja” (“Keiko”) or “Yang-ja” (“Yoko”). Even if they liked their names, they had no choice but to give them up under government order. A considerable number of people around me had these “Japanese-sounding” names and were all obliged to change their names, no exceptions allowed.
South Koreans don’t seem bothered about such trivial, petty things, as the wife of former President Chun Doo-hwan kept the name, “Soon-ja” (“Junko” in Japanese, as you’ll recall) while in the position of First Lady. Imagine if you were an American named Michael during the Cold War; would the existence of Russians using the name “Mikhail” have bothered you?
It’s not easy to change your name if you just wish to do so, though. Of course, if you have enough money to bribe the officials, you can. But if you can’t afford to do that, you’re stuck with the name you were given at birth.
As Hallyu (the Korean Wave of pop culture) flooded into North Korea via China, South Korean names became very popular among North Koreans. In North Korea, almost everyone had names that could be spelled out in Chinese characters. We liked to apply meaning to each syllable. But many South Koreans seemed to have pure Korean names, rather than from Chinese characters. Many North Koreans have recently started to follow this trend, too.
Many babies born after 2000 in North Korea have South Korean-sounding names. I hope the government does not force them to change their names in the future. The North Korean regime has made so much effort to “purify” the Korean language, yet most North Koreans have names that can be spelled using Chinese characters. Isn’t it ironic?
I like that more and more babies born in the 2000s have pure Korean names that sound South Korean. I hope this trend continues. I hope North Koreans are given freedom to choose the names they like some day.
Do North Koreans have cellphones?
DT: Especi
ally in Pyongyang, the answer is “yes.” When I visited in 2014, I met an Egyptian engineer working for Koryolink, the national mobile network 75 percent owned by Orascom, an Egyptian conglomerate. He said they had 2.5 million subscribers. As of late 2016, there are now 3 million. Koryolink has earned hundreds of millions of dollars in profit on this—but unfortunately for Orascom, they haven’t been allowed to collect any dividends yet. Some wonder if they ever will…
Cho Ui-seong:
One of the things that was of the greatest help to me in adapting to this unfamiliar country [South Korea] was my smartphone. Without the help of Naver or Google, I would have settled in much more slowly. But what about cell phone use in North Korea?
Even before I left in 2014, many North Koreans were using cell phones, and a small number had smartphones. The price of phones in North Korean varied from $150 to $700, depending on each phone’s design and features. Back then, North Korea’s own “Arirang” smart-phone was very popular. At that time, the government advertised that such LCD touchscreen phones could offer banking and delivery services through an intranet, but I haven’t seen that working in practice.
Cell phones in North Korea began to enter common use in 2009. Prior to that, it was said by many North Koreans that the Guinness Book of Records had named North Korea as the only country in the world without mobile phones. If that was true, the Guinness Book of Records has done a great favor to the people of North Korea.
The introduction of mobile phones dramatically increased access to information for North Koreans. The people most in need of phones are the traders. No one feels the informational backwardness of the country as desperately as them. North Korea already has a fixed-line telephone system, but this is ineffective due to chronic power shortages. Even when the power is on, if it is windy or rainy, lines become crossed and callers are connected to the wrong people. Landline owners have to wait a month for repairs, and there are always many repairs that need making. This is so inconvenient for traders, who need to know what is going on in the market on a daily basis.
As market logic spreads through North Korean society, information becomes money. Prices used to be fixed and economic activity slow, but nowadays the market system (though only tacitly acknowledged) has highly variable prices and a very dynamic economic flow. If traders can make calls on their cellphones regardless of time, place, or the availability of electricity, they can enjoy great opportunities. The cellphone is a big factor in helping those who are taking advantage of the magic of the “invisible hand” of the market.
Due to the practicality of mobile phones, subscriber numbers have increased massively, in spite of the cost. Over 200,000 people joined in the first year of service, and seven years on, there are 3 million subscribers.
But now the phone is a sort of accessory, going beyond practicality and showcasing the wealth and status of the owner. North Koreans, especially young people, are crazy about cell phones. Among young people who don’t have them, there is a common expression—“only dogs and me don’t have cell phones.” This self-deprecating phrase shows the strength of the desire to own a phone.
University students have a special affection for mobile phones, and even those without much money feel they have to have one. When I was in college, more than half of the students had one, so I think almost all students will by now. Students say that those who have phones are going to be 12 times more successful at dating than those without.
It was funny, but I had friends who seemed to think their phone completed their identity. Think of it as being like those who are so proud of driving BMWs. The funniest thing is that most of them couldn’t even use their phones. North Korea’s tariff system offers 50 text messages per month, and talk time of 200 minutes. For anything more than that, you’ll have to pay extra, and in dollars. Two hundred minutes is shorter than you think, so those who are dating will go through that time in a week. It is quite amusing to talk with friends who whinge about spending lots of money on talking to their girlfriends.
When making a phone call, you tend to keep it short. Even when talking to parents, it is common to cut out basic pleasantries. Sometimes I would let friends who didn’t have phones take calls from their parents on my phone, and it really ate up my minutes. When it was someone who kept on talking because they hadn’t spoken to their parents in a long time, I would just glance at them with a look urging them to hurry up.
In any case, the cell phone has undoubtedly made a significant contribution to informing the mentality of people in North Korea, the most closed country in the world. It will result in great changes in the future as well. When will the day come when people in the South and the North can talk freely? Let’s try and add this to the list of once enormous hopes that have become ordinary daily reality.
Is there anything good about living in North Korea?
DT: This is a provocative question, but having visited myself, I can say that there isn’t that much. Or rather, there’s nothing much good about how the state or “the system” works. That said, North Korean defectors will usually say that people back home are warmer and kinder. The lack of industrial development also means that the air is clean and you can see the stars at night.
Jae Young Kim:
Although media and news only show the negative side of North Korea, there are positive aspects about life in the DPRK. Of course there are differences between individuals, but compared to my current life in the South, life in the North was mentally rich—even if it was materially insufficient. The reason for this is because of the pure heart and affection of North Koreans. Though there are lots of kind people in South Korea, affection between neighbors is very pure and deep in North Korea, especially in rural areas.
Families and neighbors gather on birthdays and national holidays and share with each other. My mother used to cook a lot for our neighbors. Even though she had to wake up early and cook, she never refused. I used to wake up early and help her. On major holidays, we invited our neighbors (we used to call my mother’s friends “aunt”) and shared food and stories with them. My mom was really good at making “Jong-Pyun rice cake,” and I can still remember my aunts exclaiming how good they tasted. During nights, we gathered together, turned music on and danced. On days when electricity went out, we used to play the accordion, sing, dance and have fun. I used to have so much fun and danced so hard that my socks had holes when I checked them in morning. My father used to be respected as a gagman (comedian).
Moreover, North Korea’s excellent natural environment is another nice aspect of life. Air in North Korea is very fresh. In spring and fall, my school used to go on field trips. Every year, we went to a cool valley. Water was very fresh and lots of flowers were in bloom. For the whole day, we played scavenger hunt, swam, then ate packed lunch, cooked by my mother. After lunch, we had talent shows.
Although from a material perspective things were often lacking, I sometimes miss the pure heart and sharing culture so common to my life in North Korea.
There is another side to your question… In North Korea, although it isn’t common, there are some ordinary people who receive gifts directly from the state. Some people earn the “hero” title and receive televisions and other goods. These people get better gifts than other people on national holidays. But there aren’t many of these people—I rarely saw a “hero” in my town. There was one, but he didn’t get as many benefits as other “heroes.” In truth, the main people who really get benefits from the government are civil servants, such as party officers, police officers, government agents and a few other people. These are the people who live with consistent privileges and have an easy life.
Everything was suffocating and pitiful in North Korea, but it is a country of which I have many positive memories. So if someone asks me “What is North Korea like?” then I say “North Korea is a nice place with plenty of love.”
Tell me about student life in North Korea.
DT: Student life is about becoming an adult—making choices for yoursel
f, taking your first strides out into the world, and also experiencing new types of fun. Not so much in North Korea though, where the university is more like a military academy.
Kim Yoo-sung:
I will walk you through what it is like to study at college in North Korea. In order to sit the college entrance exam in North Korea, you must have a reference letter and be endorsed by the National League of Students and your high school. The university makes an admissions decision based on your family background, extracurricular activities and your grades. The Department of Education sends an admissions letter to students who are successful.
One very interesting thing here is that you don’t choose a major for yourself. The authorities at your university choose your major for you! Once the university notifies you what you will be studying, you spend the next four years studying that subject. (Just for your information, the major they chose for me was Wood Processing.) It is very rare for a student to take a gap year in North Korea. Most students study for four full years straight until graduation.
Being enrolled at a North Korean college is like being enlisted in the military. Every class has a leader, vice leader and secretaries below them. Each class has a strong, rigid hierarchy with positions held by students along the power pyramid. Those student leaders at the top of the pyramid make sure that students stick to the school rules and code of conduct, and that the students stay disciplined.
Classes begin at 8 a.m. and students must enter the premises by no later than 7:25 a.m. If a student arrives later than 7:25, that student is forced to make a public apology in front of the entire school after the school assembly. School assembly takes place every morning from 7:30 a.m. and lasts for 20 minutes. Assembly at North Korean colleges is held every morning from spring to winter.