Jia: A Novel of North Korea

by Hyejin Kim

  Seunggyu was silent as I spoke. I didn't look at him, but I could feel him watching my face closely.

  When I finished, he quietly stood up and said, "Let's go back. I'll take you home." His face was blushing deeply, like a scarlet peony.

  It was the first time I had to reach for his hand, not he for mine. I could only hold three fingers; it was hard to grab his whole hand. As Seunggyu walked, he stared straight ahead, his mouth firmly closed. I knew it would be difficult for him to digest a woman's 20-year life story in a few hours-especially his future wife's hidden story-and I had tried to prepare for every reaction.

  When we reached my apartment, Seunggyu peered up at the window on the third floor and said, "I have a twoweek assignment training new recruits. I might not see you during that time."

  His voice was distant. After that, he turned to go.

  I called to him, "Seunggyu, can you understand now why I have sympathy for the people you despise?"

  He nodded his head shortly, without looking back.

  I decided not to be impetuous. No matter when it might be, the next time I saw Seunggyu I would tell him how mischievous I had been when I lived on the mountain. I climbed up to my flat and fell into a deep sleep.

  Two days later, I arrived at the hotel in the morning and saw a man who looked like Seunggyu hastening down the hall past the front desk.

  I caught up with him and touched his shoulder. "Seunggyu?„

  He turned, and his panicked face stopped me in my tracks.

  "What are you doing here?" I said. "Don't you have training for two whole weeks?"

  The edges of his ears turned bright red, and he looked restlessly around the hall, apparently annoyed. "Right," he muttered. "I must go right now. I just had something to do for Jongmu here. I was just stopping by. I must go right now so I'm not late. See you in a couple weeks. I'll come by."

  With that, he hurried away, and I felt sorry for delaying him.

  I entered the practice room and found the youngest dancer, Han, sweeping the floor with a wet mop. She noticed me and told me Director Park was looking for me.

  "Oh, really?" I said, looking back at the wall clock above the door. I wasn't late. Director Park looking for you in the early morning was never good. "How's her mood today?"

  Han stopped sweeping, leaned toward me to get closer, and said, "The most red I have seen so far."

  When Director Park was angry, her face was like a completely ripe strawberry. We could guess the kind of day it would be from her color.

  "Thanks, Han. Is she in her office?"

  "Yes, I would hurry."

  I crossed the wet floor with an apology to Han and turned backstage. When I opened the artificial leather door, Director Park was pacing back and forth in the office, her arms crossed.

  "Close the door," she said, glancing at me, and plopped herself down on the sofa. Her ears were as red as Seunggyu's. "I was worried something like this would happen."

  I put my black bag down next to the sofa. "What's wrong, Director Park?"

  She leaned over slightly, without uncrossing her arms, and moved her face so close to mine that I could clearly see the wrinkles around her eyes. Maybe the rumor that her husband was having an affair with his coworker is true, I thought. Director Park was too young and too good a wife for that snaky old man. "Did you tell your story to Seunggyu?" she demanded.

  I was surprised that our discussion had started with Seunggyu. "Yes..." I replied.

  "He just stopped by here and asked me to tell him honestly about your background. He seemed so upset."

  Was that why he came? Not for Jongmu, but for himself?

  "Jia, I accepted you at the hotel because of Teacher Song. She told me about your family's history, and I took pity on you."

  Director Park stood up and resumed pacing.

  "Your boyfriend wanted to know everything, and he asked for some documents relating to you. Jia, he threatened me! He said his father's friend has a high position in the information bureau. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I was so anxious whenever I saw you two together-I should have stopped you."

  Director Park patted the back of her neck with the side of her hand. "Let's calm down first."

  Pouring water from the yellow stainless-steel kettle, she guzzled a full cup. "Jia, try to convince Seunggyu not to hurt you; you've been together for a long time, and I'm sure he really loves you; that's why he feels so betrayed by you. He almost cried. But Jia, to him, your background is paramount. Don't trust love. Just beg him to forget about you and not to shake too much dust from your past-you've got to try and catch him as soon as possible."

  I left her office quietly, with Han's anxious eyes trailing me. I had no idea where Seunggyu had gone, or if he really had a training session. Walking down the hall, I told myself, Right, as Director Park said, I must find him and beg him to forgive me and restrain him from endangering my l fe. But my legs were taking me back home.

  Would he turn me in, send me to a political prison? It pained me that he had decided not to tell me how shocked he was. I couldn't forget his eyes at the hotel, darting away from mine.

  I retired to my room for a long while.

  Before sunset, I visited my friend and former colleague Jiyun. She had quit dancing at the hotel when she got married. Everything in her house was well organized-they still had furniture and a TV-and Jiyun's only worry was her long-unfulfilled desire for a baby. With a grin, she offered me dried anchovies on a plate. I had never seen such big anchovies; their eyeballs hung out of their sockets.

  "It's strange..." she said. "What I missed the most after stopping work over there was Cook Kim's anchovy dishes. Remember? I always gave them to you. I never imagined myself sitting alone in the house, chewing on big dried anchovies. My husband brought them from China. Try them, Jia."

  She picked up the biggest one and bit off the head. She gave me one, and I cut half of it off with my front teeth. I asked her how I might buy a black-market travel permit. I assumed she knew about such things, as her husband secretly bought and sold outside goods in the market.

  "Everything is possible if you have money," Jiyun said, smiling. "I'll ask my husband. Where are you going?"

  I didn't have any idea, but I had to make a plausible excuse. I felt the more remote the destination, the better.

  "I have to go to Onsong. My aunt is there. She's dying and wants to see me before her death. I want to leave as soon as possible, even tomorrow is fine."

  "I didn't know you had a relative so far away." Jiyun held her head at an angle. "Have you asked Seunggyu? He could definitely take you there. Then you wouldn't have to waste your money."

  "No, and don't talk about it if he asks," I snapped. "He doesn't want me to go-he's worried. It's far away and her disease might be contagious. I'm keeping it a secret from him."

  Jiyun nodded, lifting the little finger of her right hand to seal her silence. "What is her disease, then?"

  At that time, paratyphoid fever and cholera were spreading all over the country. "She has cholera," I told her.

  Making her round eyes even more round, Jiyun tilted her head to the other side. "Now? Isn't Onsong much colder than here? That's strange. Paratyphoid fever would make sense, but cholera? Now?"

  I hesitated. In a panic, I said, "Actually, I don't remember exactly-maybe you're right. When I got the news from her husband, I was so shocked. The disease wasn't important."

  "Right, I understand. I'm sorry, Jia. I'll urge my husband to hurry."

  I gave Jiyun enough money for the travel permit, and two days later I had it in my hands. For 50 US dollars you could get any kind of document made. I was grateful to my customers at the souvenir store for their generous tips. Though Americans were our enemies, American currency was our friend when we were in danger. Runaways who had American currency could afford brokers, who would make the journey to China much safer.

  Jiyun's husband kindly told me how to get to Onsong. I would have to travel to Hamhung first and th
en take a train to Onsong. There was a train from Pyongyang to Onsong, but it left infrequently and often broke down.

  I had chosen Onsong, in the far northeast, because it was the farthest place from Pyongyang. Sinuiju, just northwest of Pyongyang, would have been the fastest escape for me, but it had already become a popular route for runaways, and the army was waiting for them at the border. At least, that's what Seunggyu had confided in me.

  I used the confidential information he gave me to abscond from him.

  The night before I left, I looked slowly around my tiny home. It was the first place I could call my own, and I had tried to take care of it. Would I be able to return? I didn't want to leave the flat in disarray, so I wiped down every nook and corner.

  There was nothing left for me here. I didn't own anything; I should have been the first to leave, not Sun or Gun.

  I thought about Sunyoung for the first time in years. The look on her face and the sadness in her voice when we spoke in the restroom came back to me clearly; I could feel the pain in her heart, how lonely she must have been, and my heart filled with sadness. I wept that night, and watched the wall in the darkness, as Sunyoung might have done. I had always wondered whether she regretted her decision to follow her heart. The day she realized she had nothing and no one to lean on-how desperate she must have been!

  Sunyoung's tragedy had changed my life; I couldn't deny it. Her bitter fate led me to close my eyes and ears. Like the other dancers, I felt that Sunyoung made a foolish decision, giving up the path of a comfortable life that had been offered to her to follow the passion that ultimately took her from me. Perhaps, with Seunggyu, I had hoped to choose the predictable life that Sunyoung had rejected. Listening to him, I had felt stable and safe; I felt that a happy life was possible.

  How arrogant I had been! I had pretended to Seunggyu that my generous heart was the reason I felt sympathy for people who begged on the street, emboldened by the thought that I had been spared such wretchedness. The truth was that I was one of them, a trifling shell pushed by the waves this way and that. Seunggyu, when I saw him the last time at the hotel, recognized me for what I was.

  The tears I cried that night weren't for Seunggyu, or for the memory of Sunyoung. I couldn't blame Seunggyu, after all, for betraying me, when I was the betrayer. I had the chance now to begin another journey in my life. I feared I would be unwelcome, yet again, in a new land, but I was resolved to fight.

  Early the next morning, I tied the made-in-China lace-up shoes I had bought in the street market and set off for the Pyongyang train station. I was well layered in a thin white shirt and stockings, which I always wore for performances, two ivory sweaters, and thick brown pants. I wrapped my head in a dark-blue scarf and put on my oldest, worn-out coat. I tried to wear as much as possible, to keep my backpack light.

  The streets were empty, and wind whistled through the alleys around my apartment. I got on my bicycle and rushed toward Ch'anggwang Street with my scarf pulled tight; I was afraid of being seen by anyone I knew. Crossing Taedong Bridge, Kaya Hotel and Pyongyang Station came into sight all at once. On any other day, I would have turned my bike to the right and headed for the hotel. But this wasn't any other day.

  My head down, I made an abrupt left turn as the station grew larger, expanding beyond my field of vision. The Great Leader was smiling at me from the picture above the entrance, and my eyes stayed fixed on him; the larger his face grew, the more convinced I became that he was not actually looking at me, but rather up and into the far distance. That comforted me.

  The station was already crowded with anxious travelers pacing the terminal. A conductor said there would not be a train to Hamhung or Onsong that day due to an engine problem; some would-be travelers turned back while others decided to wait out the delay in the station. I was afraid that Seunggyu would catch me after discovering my escape, and I needed to get out of Pyongyang. Grabbing the conductor's arm tightly, I asked him if there was no other way to get to Onsong. If I hadn't held him I felt he would have flown away without giving me an answer.

  "You can catch a car ride on the street just ask the driver to take you on board."

  "Where can I catch those cars?"

  "Go to any big street, you'll see the trucks. Try to the west, crossing the Pot'ong River."

  I made my way to Sosong Street. Pedaling furiously, I headed northwest and passed over Sosong Bridge. The layers of clothing stuck to my body and I felt heavier and heavier. On the other side of the Pot'ong River, several groups of people were gathered along Pulkun Street, on the side that would take them toward Pot'onggang Station. Each group had five or six people, all waiting to catch cars, and all carrying big bags. Some had mirrors, rice, and salt bags; others even had televisions.

  Leaving the bicycle on the grass next to the road, I joined the closest group. Whenever cars passed, we waved our hands, but were ignored. Finally, one man took money from his jacket and waved it around. Soon enough, a military car stopped with a screech and a soldier asked us where we wanted to go. The car was going to Kowon, in the far east. I knew there was a station there with trains to Onsong, so I got in without hesitating, along with seven others. After checking our travel permits, the soldiers took 300 won from each of us, no matter where we were going. That was about three months' salary for a factory laborer. Some people on the street were left behind because they wanted to go in other directions or didn't have enough money.

  The car was extremely cold, and after taking a seat, everyone took a big, crumpled plastic bag out of their packs and wrapped it around themselves. Clearly, they knew what to expect. I could hear my own teeth chattering from the cold.

  The man who had waved the money looked at me sideways and gave me a grin that exposed his dark-yellow gums. "You didn't bring a plastic bag?" he asked. He proudly adjusted his bag so that it covered his whole body from the neck down. His bag, unlike the others, had special holes for the head and arms. It seemed that he had cut the bag specifically for this purpose.

  "No," I said, avoiding his eyes.

  "It's spring, but it's still cold, and it'll be much colder when we climb up. Protecting yourself is the most important thing."

  "I didn't know that," I said, pulling my knees to my chest.

  He smiled and said, "I'll share mine for fifty won. Come inside."

  He opened one arm and made space, pointing at it with his eyes. I didn't want to get close to a male stranger, but it was getting colder. A middle-aged woman with a snub nose sitting in front of me was watching the exchange and snapped at him, "How dare you take her money? Be generous."

  She turned her head to me and said, "Come here. Let's share mine, it's big enough for two."

  I grabbed my backpack and slid in next to her; warm air from her body hung inside the plastic bag. The man glared at the woman, but said nothing.

  "Is it your first time catching a car?" she asked. Her snub nose was noticeably redder than other parts of her face.

  "Yes" I rubbed my hands and blew on my frozen fingers.

  "What that guy said is right. You should prepare. Otherwise, it's a perfect day to die from the cold."

  The car rocked from side to side, bumping my tailbone hard against the seat, but eventually I fell asleep, letting go of the anxiety of the last few days. It was much better inside the plastic bag, sharing the heat of two bodies in that airtight space.

  "Get up, get up."

  When I opened my eyes, the others were already out of the car.

  "Are we already in Kowon?" I asked the snub-nosed woman, who had taken off the plastic bag and was folding it.

  "No, we're at Majon. The car broke down with a fourth of the way left to Kowon. They'll fix it, but they aren't sure how long it will take."

  "What are we supposed to do? We already gave them money." I stood up, holding my backpack.

  "You can take another car or wait until they fix it. But don't even think about getting your money back."

  "What will you do?"

  She
swung her backpack, which was much bigger than mine, onto her back and clutched a pumpkin-shaped knapsack and a small mirror under her arm. "There is a street market close by-I'll go there and sell my goods. You can have a meal there and wait until they fix the car." She headed off to the right with nothing more to say.

  As the passengers scattered, I asked a soldier who was smoking outside when he thought we'd be moving again, and he answered gruffly, "We don't know, not long, but not before night. Come back after dinner." The group of soldiers headed to the street market, leaving one to fix the car. He looked not more than 16 and seemed not to know what he was doing. I followed the group to the market.

  So many smells emanated from the food stalls! My stomach gurgled at the smell of steamed sweet potatoes and egg breads and corn nuts fried in the pan. There were several groups of kkot ebi in the market. When they rushed past me, I had to breathe with my mouth, not my nose. I tried to find the people from the car. I saw the soldiers teasing a young woman in her food stall. She brought dishes to them with a coquettish smile, and some of them tried to touch her body. She didn't complain at all, but her face twisted as she got past them.

  Two would be better than one, I thought, so I looked around the market for the snub-nosed woman. I accidentally bumped into a man coming from the other direction.

  "Watch out!" he spat. "Are your eyes just for decoration?"

  "Sorry," I muttered, lowering my head several times.

  He grabbed my right arm. "If I was hurt just now, what would you do?"

  "Sorry, I didn't mean it."

  "How do I know you didn't mean it? Are you trying to mess with me?" he demanded, eying me skeptically.

  "Sir, I was looking for my friend, and I was distracted. Forgive me."

  I was scared by his reaction, and tried to wriggle my arm out of his grasp. He said, "Be careful next time," and rushed off.

  I met the eyes of an old female merchant who was selling underwear in different colors. She looked at me first and then her eyes deliberately followed the path of the man. When I followed her glance, I saw him walking away with several men. I removed my backpack and saw that the bottom was half-torn and some of my clothes were pushing out through the hole. I scrambled to look inside; the gray sock where I put my money was gone. I had hidden my money in two socks and sewed them into the bottom of the backpack. I grabbed the torn part and ran in the direction he had gone, crying, "Thief, Thief! Catch him."