Jia: A Novel of North Korea
Page 13
As the policeman was finishing his announcement, a dozen men rushed the platform and scaled the gate. Hundreds of people pushed madly after them, and the railroad police were overwhelmed. Some thieves made the most of the opportunity, cutting the bottom of one unsuspecting man's bag with a knife and catching the corn that ran out in their own bag. A flock of kko jebi rushed to get their share. Finally the man realized what was going on and bawled, "Damn these hoodlums," kicking the kko jebi. They didn't budge until they had collected all the corn.
Railroad inspectors tried to check each passenger's ticket and travel permit, but it was useless. They beat anyone they found without proper documents, but the crowd pushed past them. They shouted, "You can't get on the train without a ticket and a card. We'll inspect you sons of bitches again on the train!"
People dashed for it anyway, some dropping off the train like falling leaves. Those who didn't have tickets or permits climbed up on the roof. The inspectors didn't care about them, saying they would all die of cold or electric shock.
Sangwon and I rushed to find a seat. Finding one, he said, "Sit here and don't move. Put your bag next to you. If people swear at you about having your backpack like that, don't listen. And don't be scared. If they scream, you yell at them too. Okay? I'll be right back."
I grabbed at his coat. "Where are you going?"
"I don't have a travel permit. I'll be back after the ticket inspectors pass this compartment."
I looked at him anxiously, but he winked and said, "Don't worry about me. I'm a professional. Be careful, some people seize this chance and steal other people's things. Don't take your eyes off the bag."
Sangwon slipped through the crowd and disappeared. His tiny body could fit anywhere.
The train gave several long whistles and the employees shouted, "The train is leaving." Those stuck on the platform tried to climb in through broken windows. The train started moving, and when I looked through the window, I saw a man running alongside. He threw his bag inside first and put his hand on the windowsill. His face distorted with pain for an instant from the shards of glass in the sill, but he didn't give up. When half his body was through the window, a railroad policeman outside harshly grabbed him from behind and yanked him down. I stuck my face out of the window to see if he was okay, and he looked at me and shouted, "My bag! My bag! Throw it back to me."
When I turned to find his bag, it wasn't his bag anymore. Passengers in the train were fighting over it. A big soldier stood up and pushed away the others. He seized the bag with a threatening look.
Nobody resisted as the soldier took the bag to his seat and opened it. It was filled with bundles of clothes. I saw some tattered gray pants tangled up with yellowish underwear.
The soldier angrily sifted through the bundles. "What are these stinky things?" Then, opening a bundle, he found machine parts. The soldier's companions grabbed the bag and began rummaging through the clothes. Several more machine parts came out. Then a rice ball, some fried tofu, and bean sprouts-the owner's lunch.
The soldier said, "They are still hot. Let's take care of these for him." Looking around intimidatingly, he and his companions ate the food on the spot.
I was worried about Sangwon. The inspectors were harsh to people who didn't have tickets, and I doubted his age would make much difference.
Finally, a good while after the ticket inspectors had passed by, Sangwon reappeared, and we shared the seat. He fit in the space where my bag was, so I held my bag to my chest.
"Where did you hide?"
His hands were black with dust. He crowed, "Those people who work here aren't thorough enough to search between compartments. They don't care about kko jebi anyway-we don't have anything for them. If we don't make trouble, they ignore us."
As we rode, Sangwon spoke about how he had lost his family. It's a common story in North Korea, and the reasons are always death by starvation or punishment by the government. He was an absolute orphan, but he smiled and said, "It's better this way; I don't have any pressure to take care of my family. Many kkot ebi have to beg for food for their parents or grandparents."
As an only son, Sangwon was adored by his hardworking parents. Both worked in a fertilizer factory in Hungnam, north of Kowon, and Sangwon remembered the chimneys shooting fat plumes of gray smoke up into the sky. The floods of 1995 and 1996 hit his hometown hard, and the polluted water brought disease and death. All the factories closed, and starving people started pillaging them for machine parts to sell on the black market or in China. Sangwon's parents were no exception. When they left him at home to travel to the border to sell some parts, their bus tumbled into a bloated waterway and was swallowed up. Sangwon heard the news of their deaths, but their bodies were never found.
Sangwon found himself alone in his house, with no idea what to do. For the first time he could play outside with abandon; nobody controlled him, and he didn't have to hear his mother's nagging. It was starvation, however, that came to control him. Soon he stopped going out. A neighbor said the government would take care of him, so he waited for them. When the government finally did pay Sangwon a visit, they said they would take his house, that it belonged to them. The only place he could go was the orphanage or a camp for children in similar situations.
The day before he was to depart for the orphanage, Sangwon heard there would be a public execution. A family was accused of eating human flesh. The family had been hungry for a long time, and they decided to sell their house and use the money to buy pork for soup. They went to a butcher's shop, bought the pork, made the soup, and ate well. Shortly thereafter, the police stormed into their house and arrested the entire family. The butcher had been selling human flesh, and they were all charged with murder, along with the butcher.
Out of curiosity, Sangwon walked to the public execution grounds. He found the street market completely closed. A crowd had gathered around the accused family and the butcher. A judge announced the charges as the crowd stood hushed in anticipation; only the family's sobbing could be heard. The judge asked the accused whether they acknowledged their crime, and a middle-aged man, who appeared to be the father, said they really didn't know what they had eaten, and begged for forgiveness. The judge declared they would not be excused for their crime. The youngest in the family, a boy, looked no older than six or seven, but the police said that he was 16-the minimum age to receive the death penalty. No one believed the police, but they dared not argue that he was only a boy. Perhaps they thought it would be better for the family to leave this world together.
Sangwon knew the boy was younger than he was. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, and he watched as the boy's eyes filled with fear. Policemen fastened the family members and the butcher to several long stakes and covered their mouths and eyes with towels. The family sobbed and pleaded for mercy. Moments later, the sound of simultaneous gunshots. The sobbing stopped at once.
People turned away and returned quietly to their houses. Some gathered in the street market to sell and buy goods again. Sangwon stood there for a while before heading home and packing his things in haste. He vowed never to feel fear such as he saw in the boy's eyes.
This was how Sangwon's journey began. By the time I met him, he had already crossed the border three times and been arrested three times in China. On the first occasion, the Chinese police caught him on the street and handed him over to North Korea. After the North Korean authority interrogated him, they simply warned him not to cross the border again and let him go. The second episode was the same. But, the third time, he ran into the same investigator and was taken to the 927.
Sangwon looked at me and giggled. "You know, when some people are arrested and have to be interrogated, they put their money inside their bodies so it won't be taken away by the investigators. Women put money wrapped in plastic bags in their.. .down there," he said, pointing between his legs. He continued, "Some people eat their bags of money or put it up their butts. If the police suspect them, they force people to eat food that cau
ses diarrhea and then follow them to the restroom. Then the policemen search their shit to see if there is any money or valuables, like gold or silver rings and necklaces."
Sangwon taught me a song describing the kkot ebi's life. He said he learned it in the street market and that all the kko jebi knew it. The lyrics were a dialogue between an old man and a kko jebi.
Old man: What is your name?
Kkotjebi: My name isjebi (swallow)
0: It sounds pretty
K: But, it is kkot-jebi (flower-swallow: beggar)
0: What do you eat?
K: I eat on (duck)
0: You must be rich
K: But, I eatguksu-ori (noodle-duck: low quality noodles)
0: Where do you live?
K: I live in sudo (the capital)
0: You live in a nice place
K: But, it is ha-sudo (sewer)
The train was pandemonium-slow and cold pandemonium. An icy wind came through broken windows, and in the dark before dawn, I saw a black lump drop from the sky and past my window.
I shook Sangwon. "Did you see that?" I asked, pointing outside. He was drowsy and said nothing.
A middle-aged woman in front of me spoke. "It's a dead person. Someone must have fallen asleep on top of the train and rolled off, or he died of electric shock up there and others pushed him off" I was stunned. Sangwon closed his eyes again, indifferent to her explanation. She continued, "That's not so bad compared to other things that happen on this train. If you see these scenes as often as we have, you won't care anymore either."
I fell asleep hugging Sangwon. Sleeping on the train was brutal; the seat was so hard it hurt, and fleas and bedbugs bit me all over. Though vendors sold food at each station, I was afraid I would have to go to the restroom, so I ate only a little. Even the restroom was filled with people, and passengers gave up using the toilet in the restroom, doing their business between compartments instead. Shyness and shame no longer existed. Nobody cared. Nobody blamed others. People joked whenever someone relieved himself, saying, "That looks like it was a great meal!"
The train often stopped due to engine trouble; we were stuck at one station for a day and a half. The ticket inspectors came to check tickets at some stations, and passengers who didn't have tickets or travel permits sneaked out between the compartments and climbed to the top of the train. When the inspectors got to me, I stroked Sangwon's hair as he lay on my lap and told them he was my ill cousin and I was taking him to his mother in Hoeryong. Sangwon showed his spindly leg to the inspectors. They grimaced and turned their heads, then went on to check other people.
As the days passed, it seemed as if walking would have been faster than taking the train. I thought the journey would never end. Patience was a struggle. But, looking back, the train trip turned out to be the easiest leg of my journey.
To Cross the Border
A s we approached the border in Hoeryong, the sun lit up -the landscape, but the wind was so cold I huddled in my coat for warmth. Sangwon and I had left the train in the early morning and squatted down in the bushes near the border. There was no fence dividing the countries, and in the distance to the right, I could see a bridge connecting low mountains in each country. From a small hut on each side, two or three soldiers with guns on their shoulders came and went; if not for them, the border would have been invisible. I caught sight of a wide plain across the river, quiet and peaceful; I could even see houses and dogs. The mountains on the other side looked more luxuriant, more springlike. Sun might have gazed across the border from just the place where I stood.
Several soldiers in dark-green uniforms and broadbrimmed hats paced along the river, looking nervous.
"Today is a good time," Sangwon said, with a satisfied smile.
Four big military vans were crossing the bridge, coming from China.
"Those cars are coming from the Baekdu Mountains," Sangwon said, pointing casually.
The vans stopped in front of a white, four-story building, where several soldiers were waiting. A man wearing a lightergreen uniform got out of one of the vans, and a soldier approached him. They saluted each other and began talking. Other soldiers opened the back door of each van, and prisoners bound together by a thick rope emerged. The rope was tied around the first captive's hands, behind his back, and looped around the next captive's waist and hands. About ten people were chained together in that way. Some lowered their heads, others looked around. The soldiers kicked them; when one fell down, others in the same line staggered. The soldiers made each group of prisoners stand in one line. Then they pushed them into the white building.
"They'll be very busy, today," Sangwon said without taking his eyes from the scene.
"Who are they?"
"Those people were held in a detention center in China. The Chinese policemen are sending them under guard to this side. When I was caught, I was one of them too. There are so many today, more than a hundred..." Several children appeared to be Sangwon's age, and he tensed at the sight of them.
After everyone disappeared inside the building, the soldiers gathered together. Drivers got out of the cars and exchanged cigarettes.
"First, they must divide up the prisoners according to where they will be sent," Sangwon said. "They'll start interrogating them tonight. Sooner or later, we'll hear screams from in there." He pointed with his chin toward the ugly old building.
I swallowed hard. Sensing my nerves, Sangwon patted my shoulder and said, "It's good luck for us, it means the lookout will be distracted tonight. Most of the soldiers will be in the building keeping watch over the prisoners."
Sangwon grabbed my coat lightly. "You are lucky. Tonight is a good night." He lowered himself further into the bushes, and his hat covered his eyes and nose so that I could only see his lips moving. "We have to be really careful, though, or we'll end up with them. Let's wait until sunset."
We lay down under the bushes for a while, and I heard the vans drive away. Pressing my whole body into the grass, I felt a sudden ache in my back and hips, and clenched my teeth, so as not to groan. After a while, the pain subsided. Several days of travel had taken a toll on me.
I tried to ignore the tremors shaking my body, but they wouldn't stop. When I looked up, I only saw Sangwon's glittering eyes looking down at me; the rest was dark. I tried to stand up, but Sangwon pushed my shoulders down, hard.
"Sh!" He covered his lips with his index finger. "Come here." He dropped to his knees and motioned for me to follow him. We were heading toward the river.
"You should swim as quietly and quickly as possible. Even if the soldiers discover us, don't stop, okay? Sometimes when they shout, "Stop," people feel they really ought to stop. Some old people actually stop in the middle of crossing the river. I'm not lying. So I'm warning you in advance: Never, never stop. Don't even hesitate."
With a serious expression on his small face, he continued, "When we reach the other side, don't be relieved yet. Don't stop moving. Don't make too much noise there, either; there are also Chinese security guards trying to catch us. As soon as we find the bushes, we'll run for them and hide for a while."
When we reached the river, I froze and stared at what seemed like a dark floor spread out before me. The land on the other side looked much farther than I had estimated in the daylight.
Sangwon took off his clothes and rolled them up, putting them in his hat, which he held on the top of his head. His bones protruded from every angle of his body.
"Let's go."
Sangwon threw his body into the river while I took off my coat and shoes, stripping down to my underwear. Even surrounded by darkness, I couldn't help looking around for eyes spying on my half-naked body. I folded my clothes and shoes into my backpack, and tied the strings of the bag around my neck, to prevent the contents from getting wet.
With a throbbing heart, I stepped into the river. My teeth clenched hard and my body tingled with cold. The water only reached my navel. I looked at Sangwon. The water was almost at his shoulder.
When we reached the far riverbank, I toppled out of the water and onto the ground. The cold wracking my body held me in place. My teeth were chattering, and Sangwon gestured for me to bite down on the string of my backpack. There was no time to rest, so we stumbled to some nearby bushes and I sprawled out flat on the ground. I couldn't think; I couldn't even hold up my head. I closed my eyes tight. Straining my ears, I tried to catch some sound, but it was deathly quiet. The cold wind made my water-soaked clothes even colder, and I held Sangwon's hand tightly. I was relying on the strength of a boy with such small shoulders. He nudged my hand and gestured to me to put on all of my dry clothes, just as he was doing; there was no shame or shyness left. I slipped off my undergarments and changed into dry clothes, but the chill had settled into my body for good. Again, we waited in the bushes without stirring.
I don't know how much time passed. Sometime later, in the darkness, Sangwon pulled me by the hand and we stole deeper into the strange, new land.
Life Underground
-- -e moved at night and hid under bushes in the daytime, walking through the mountains on sequestered roads. We were afraid of running into wild animals, but there was no choice. Before the sun rose, we would find some tall grass and try to sleep; my mind could never completely rest, despite my body's utter exhaustion. Sangwon complained that walking through the mountains took two or three times longer than using the regular road. I prayed not to be detected no matter how long it took.