It might have rained during the night; as he lay there, the window shook in its frame, the wind still pounding against it. Strangest of all was the thought that he was lying in this city. As evening turned into night, every sign of life had somehow disappeared all at once—even the few lights that had shone here and there through the windows of the various buildings all blinked off. Drawing the curtains aside had revealed a pitch-black thoroughfare with every streetlamp turned off, lit only by the occasional set of headlights.
Yosŏp was the last one to eat breakfast, and the place was practically empty by the time he arrived. He had a bowl of soup and finished off his meal with a glass of Sindŏk Spring Water. He was coming out into the second-floor lobby when the professor waved at him from a corner armchair.
“Reverend! Over here!”
The professor began speaking in an animated voice as soon as Yosŏp sat down beside him.
“I’m going to meet my family!”
“When?”
“In about half an hour or so. The guide came and told me a minute ago while I was eating. I think other people are meeting their families, too—the scheduled activities for this morning have been canceled.”
“Why, that’s wonderful! Who’s coming? Have they told you?”
“Mother . . . my mother, she’s still . . . alive.” Suddenly overwhelmed, the professor’s voice cracked and tears started streaming down his face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes and his forehead, all the way up across his bald head. He glanced at his wristwatch.
“Reverend, please. Please stay with me. I’m too nervous to handle this alone.”
“I’d be happy to, seeing as nothing’s planned for this morning, but . . . do you think they’ll allow it?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can be pretty stubborn myself. I just can’t see my family alone, surrounded by them.”
All Back and Soprano were coming in through the lobby and sweeping the room with their eyes. Soprano reached them first, her fat body shaking.
“Well, well, so you’ve been here all along—we went all the way up to your room to look for you!” she said, her tone overly dramatic.
All Back joined them and, without sitting down, raised his arm to point in the direction of the dining hall.
“Let’s get a move on. Everyone’s waiting.”
“Your mother, your older brother, and sisters, too, have come. Remember, this is all made possible because you have visited the Motherland.”
Despite the insistence of the two guides, the professor looked only at Reverend Ryu.
“Come, Reverend, let’s go.”
“Oh, has your family come as well, Reverend? Only the involved party is allowed in.”
The professor shook his head at All Back and spoke firmly.
“I will not go alone. Reverend Ryu is the minister of our church, and I need him with me as my witness.”
“Your witness?”
“When I go back, you see, I’m going to need someone to testify before the congregation that I really did meet my family.”
“Huh. You are stubborn, aren’t you?”
All Back glanced over at Soprano, and she moved away through the chairs, her swift, agile gait rather unbecoming for such a big person. As if he had no other choice, All Back took a seat next to Yosŏp.
“You live in New York, do you not, Reverend?”
“Yes . . .”
“But you, Professor, you live on the West Coast in a place called See-something, correct?”
“Seattle. What does that have to do with anything?” the professor retorted, frowning to feign ill humor. In response, All Back turned to face Yosŏp.
“The professor lives in the West, so he can’t possibly attend your church in New York, can he? All I’m saying is that it doesn’t make any sense.”
Yosŏp decided he had no alternative but to humor the professor.
“I often give sermons out west. Ministers at different Korean churches throughout America often visit each other’s parishes to give sermons, so . . . ”
“I see.”
“The point is that I can’t go to meet my family all by myself. Besides, I need someone to take pictures for us.”
Soprano ran back just in time to cut off the problematic conversation. Wiping the nape of her neck with a handkerchief, she spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Comrade Supervisor says that it is no problem. He also says, however, that no other visitors aside from Reverend Ryu are allowed.”
And so Reverend Ryu ended up with a role all his own in the professor’s dramatic family reunion. All Back and Soprano led the professor and the minister to one of the many rooms that faced the dining hall windows. As they approached the door, the professor began to lose his composure—his eyes were bloodshot, and he kept glancing backwards like a frightened child to make sure that Yosŏp was still with him. Soprano was the first to open the door and enter the room. Flinging her arms out, she cried, “Now, here is your mother!”
Holding the camera tightly in his hands, Yosŏp stood directly behind the professor. Suddenly, the professor leaped into the room, momentarily oblivious of Yosŏp’s presence, and dashed over to embrace a tiny figure.
“Mother . . .”
The tangle of mother and son was embraced once more by the outstretched arms of a second man and woman. Together with the guides, Reverend Ryu stood out of their way and watched the reunion from the doorway. The family members hugged each other and pawed the air. On one hand, it was a rather ridiculous sight to behold; on the other, it was a scene that tore at the heart of the coldest onlooker. Like the first drops of sweet rain to fall on a land long parched by drought, tears began rolling down the old grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. The professor bent down at the waist and buried himself in his old mother’s tiny, shriveled bosom, wailing and crying out loud. It was only after a long time that he straightened himself up and really looked at the old lady. He held her face in both of his hands.
“Mother . . . your face . . . let me . . . your face . . . ”
“Oh, oh, you’re our second, aren’t you? You’ve grown so old.”
“And Father?”
“Your grandfather and grandmother passed away right after the war—it’s been over ten years since your father died.”
“I’m your older brother. And this, here, this is your younger sister.”
The professor turned towards them, and the three siblings embraced. Yosŏp took several pictures during these first embraces, but then, unable to hold back his own tears any longer, he stole out of the room. Soprano was standing outside the door, her eyes red, blowing her nose over and over again into a handkerchief.
“This . . . this is the tragedy of our people.”
Yosŏp walked back to the lobby, still holding the camera—he hadn’t had a chance to give it back. All the visitors were apparently off meeting their families; the place was quiet except for a few unrelated guests who seemed to be holding consultations. Fatty approached Yosŏp.
“May we offer you a cup of tea?” he inquired courteously.
Fatty, who turned out to be “Comrade Supervisor,” and Soprano ignored the coffee shop in the lobby and led Yosŏp to the escalator instead, taking him to a bar on the second floor that was divided into separate compartments. Inside one of them was a large couch. While Soprano was off fetching a hostess, Fatty addressed Yosŏp.
“I’m not sure whether or not it is my place to say this, but we do feel kind of bad that you seem so unwilling to open up to us. Our sole aim is to help you reconcile and form a new relationship with the Motherland you left behind.”
Yosŏp replied honestly, “I really do appreciate that, but what do you mean when you say that I’m not opening up to you?”
Fatty gave a gentle laugh.
“Reverend, is there any chance that your hometown might be in Hwanghae Province?”
“Well, that’s . . . ”
As Yosŏp hesitated, Soprano came in behind him.
“Reverend Ryu, don’t you want to meet your family?” she said.
Yosŏp inadvertently let out a long, relieved sigh.
“To be honest with you, my real hometown is . . . Sinch’ŏn.”
“Ah . . . is that so?”
The two guides’ expressions became tense. Silence reigned until the hostess finally came in. She put down three cups of ginseng tea on the table and left. The supervisor took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on in a low voice:
“We knew all along. Your older brother is Ryu Yohan, isn’t he?”
“Yes, yes that’s right. How did you . . . ”
“How could we possibly forget that name?”
Yosŏp hung his head, momentarily immersed in thought. Soprano, now speaking as an alto, butted into the conversation.
“And why didn’t you bring your brother with you?”
Yosŏp, interlacing his fingers, hung his head even farther down.
“My brother passed away three days before I left America,” he mumbled. Looking up, he added, “I beg your forgiveness. I’ve come . . . instead. As a Protestant minister, I admit that my ideas may be different from yours. All the same, I know that my brother was a sinner.”
Fatty the Supervisor inhaled deeply and exhaled a gust of cigarette smoke.
“I myself am from North P’yŏngan Province, so I’m not very well acquainted with the affairs of your region. The whole purpose of this game we’re playing now is to heal old scars, wouldn’t you say?”
“Please tell us about your family, Reverend,” said Soprano, her voice still soft. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Yosŏp handed over the list of names he’d written down. Fatty the Supervisor took it.
“Why, you’ve come all prepared. If you had given this to us right away, you could have met your family this morning.”
Looking at the list together with the supervisor, Yosŏp tried to explain.
“This is my sister-in-law, and this here is my uncle, on my mother’s side. I’ve no idea whether or not he’s still alive. And this, this is my nephew. He’d be around fifty years old by now.”
“Ryu Tanyŏl? I believe he’s already been located and confirmed . . . ”
The supervisor turned to Soprano, who took a notebook from her handbag and checked inside.
“Yes, that’s right. We’ve already contacted the city authority of Sariwŏn about Ryu Tanyŏl.”
“And who did you say these female names belonged to?”
Yosŏp pointed at the names one by one, explaining, “Those are all my nieces. Every one of them would be over fifty years old by now. Those names right there, underneath—those are my older sisters.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes. They were already married back then.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve identified your nephew, so we should have all the other information, in detail, by sometime this afternoon.”
Fatty handed the piece of paper to Soprano, giving her a look that she acknowledged with a nod. Bowing, she disappeared behind the compartment. When the two men were left alone, the supervisor closed his eyes gently for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.
“During the war, over the short month and a half the American Imperialist invaders occupied the northern districts of our Republic, they committed the most horrible atrocities. It wasn’t just the foreign powers; landowners whose holdings had been impounded, Japanese collaborators, racketeers, and deserters all did their part, becoming the paws of America, acting as their accomplices. Throughout the course of the war, however, our Great Leader instructed us to leave the family members of the criminals and reactionaries in peace—we were not even to question them—as long as they had no prior criminal records and had not been active participants in the issue at hand. The principles we are adhering to during the promotion of this ‘Homeland Visit’ project are similar—Koreans from abroad who are visiting the Motherland, if repentant, are not to be asked about their pasts.”
Recalling his own experiences with Yohan, especially over the past few years, Yosŏp couldn’t help but interject, “But . . . the wound, it must still be there. It always was with our family.”
The supervisor nodded.
“It will heal eventually. At least, between us, it will heal. It is the foreign powers that are ultimately to blame for all of this—let’s just leave it at that.”
Around three o’clock that afternoon, the Homeland Visitors were in the middle of touring the Students’ and Children’s Palace. As the group quietly made its way through a room in which an accordion practice session was in full swing, All Back approached Reverend Ryu and pulled him gently by the sleeve.
“You need to come with us. Your nephew has arrived.”
Yosŏp followed him outside to find a sedan waiting. They got in the car.
“Reverend, you should know that the Party is giving your case a great deal of special consideration. Look how quickly we were able to locate him.”
Yosŏp felt more bewildered than excited.
“Thank you,” he replied.
Back at the hotel, Yosŏp was led to a small banquet room on the second floor. All Back opened the door and Yosŏp entered the room, looking about unsteadily. Fatty the Supervisor was sitting in the room, his back to the window, and a man wearing a flaccid orange suit with a red necktie sat sandwiched between two other men in gray, short-sleeved people’s uniforms. Right away, Yosŏp could tell that the one in the orange suit was his man. The supervisor introduced them, pointing at the suit.
“This is Comrade Ryu Tanyŏl. This gentleman here is Mr. Ryu Yosŏp.”
Yosŏp walked over to the banquet table and took one of the empty seats across from his nephew.
“Your father’s name—is it Ryu Yohan?”
“Yes, that’s right. You’re my uncle, aren’t you?”
Before he even realized what he was doing, Yosŏp found himself halfway up out of his chair, reaching out for his nephew. His nephew, in turn, did the same and grabbed his hands. Luckily, the table between them made a full embrace impossible. Wanting to control himself, Yosŏp did his best to stifle the burning sensation he felt behind his eyes. His nephew’s face crumbled, and the younger man let go of his uncle’s hands, covering his eyes with his arm. He began to sob. Waiting for an end to this outburst from a nephew whose face he would never have recognized, Yosŏp dabbed at his eyes.
“Stop, please stop . . .”
Yosŏp was the first to sit back down—Daniel went on crying a little longer before he finally took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose, and sat down facing his uncle. Brushing his already graying hair to the side a few times, the younger man made a visible effort to control his emotions. Yosŏp asked after his sister-in-law first.
“Your mother, is she . . . still alive?”
“Yes, she lives with me in Sariwŏn.”
“And she’s in good health?”
“She was doing quite well up until last year, but this year she hasn’t been so good.”
Yosŏp made his way through the rest of his family members, one by one. Tanyŏl’s two sisters, Yosŏp’s nieces, were both dead. They had died young, during the hard years that followed the end of the war. Yosŏp’s own sisters, who had been married and raising their own families, were also gone. They had passed away even earlier, around the beginning of the war.
Daniel added, “Ah, you didn’t know. Only one uncle-in-law survived. He said it was the American Imperialist scum that killed both aunts.”
“What about Uncle Some? Is he still alive?”
“Yes, Grandfather Some is doing fine. Even now he comes every so often to visit Mother.”
The supervisor, who’d been watching them all along, cut into their conversation. “It seems to me that you’ve covered most of the things you were curious about. Come now, let’s take a moment to all say hello to one another. These two comrades have come from the Sariwŏn City Authority. They are responsible for bringing Comrade Ryu to us.”
The two men in
people’s uniforms stood up and took turns shaking Reverend Ryu’s hand. One of them spoke.
“Comrade Ryu Tanyŏl is a very devoted Party member.”
“Yes, I must say I was quite surprised myself. We are told that he is in charge of the Cooperative Farm,” added Fatty the Supervisor, nodding.
Yosŏp felt unable, as yet, to break the news about Yohan to his nephew. Yohan had simply taken it for granted that his wife and children had all died long ago, and now it turned out that they were not only alive, but Party members, too! For the first time, Yosŏp was feeling rather shocked. It was Fatty who got up first.
“Well now, we should let you two have some time alone, shouldn’t we? You probably will not be allowed to spend the night together tonight, but we are arranging something quite special for you, Reverend.”
Falling in beside Yosŏp as they all walked out of the room, All Back said, “Why don’t the two of you go up to your room? Tomorrow there will be another family reunion—for now, you two can have dinner together before you call it a day.”
Yosŏp led the way back up to his room. Offering a seat to his nephew, who looked rather lost, he went over to his bag and took out some photographs. After first showing him a picture of Yohan alone, Yosŏp handed his nephew a photograph of Yohan with his second wife, as well as a family picture that included Samyŏl and Pillip.
“That’s your father. I guess you wouldn’t be able to remember his face—you were just a little baby.”
Yosŏp’s nephew took the pictures and, after a quick glance, burst into tears once more.
“Daniel, your father passed away three days before I left to come here.”
Although the younger man continued to cry, the news of his father’s passing didn’t seem to make much of an impression. Yosŏp sat down at the head of the bed, waiting for some sort of a reaction. Abruptly, his nephew slammed the photographs down on the table, shouting,
“My name is Ryu Tanyŏl, not Daniel! And how dare you show up now, searching for your family! Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for us, just to live from day to day?”
Yosŏp got up and walked over to the window. He stood there for a long while, looking out at the sky. He felt the room behind him grow silent and knew that his nephew had regained some measure of control.
The Guest Page 9