Jia: A Novel of North Korea

by Hyejin Kim

  At that moment, one thick, low, commanding Chinese voice emerged above the yelling. I didn't move. As he spoke, the others quieted. When I raised my head, the young man who had received the penalty of taking off his tie grasped the stout man by the arm and accompanied him out of the room.

  The stout man's voice spread through the hall. "Ifyou guys don't kill that crazy bitch, I'll burn this building down."

  I was dragged to the room with the tiger-skin sofa, the sajat nim's office. Two men stood next to me, holding clubs covered in white towels. The boss opened the door with a bang and rushed into the room, her high heels clacking viciously. I raised my head and saw that her face had already turned a dark red.

  Her eyebrows whirling, she bellowed, "You crazy vagrant! Do you know what you did tonight?" She kicked at my chest with her shoes. "You can never leave this place now. You're here for good."

  She snatched a club from someone's hand and swung it around at me. I heard her snapping and snarling at me in time with the thuds on my body. I passed out.

  When I opened my eyes, the woman who had helped me in the karaoke room was looking down at me, holding a cigarette. "They beat you the clever way," she said.

  I tried to stand up, but my shoulders felt stuck to the floor like magnets.

  "You'd better not move. They wrapped their clubs in towels-it prevents bruising. Your skin won't show any surface bruises, but you'll have a lot of them inside."

  My nose felt clogged; it was hard to breathe. I looked around for a handkerchief and the woman gave me hers. It had a strong perfume smell. I unfolded it and blew my nose. There was a lump of blood. "Sorry," I rasped.

  Her voice was flat. "It's okay. I have a bunch of hankies."

  I looked at her cigarette. It was the first time I was ever tempted to smoke. "Thanks for trying to help me."

  She moved her cigarette so the ashes would not drop on my face. "I wasn't helping you, I was trying to earn my money. That's our job, making them drink. They pay money and we satisfy their every dirty request. The more they drink, the better for our pockets, even though their behavior gets ugly. Don't think you're special, or purer than us!"

  I broke in, "I have never thought I'm special, that's not why I made a fuss. I came to China for a better life, not for this. That doesn't mean I blame the women who work here."

  She stood up and headed to the door, sighing, "I have to go," as she stepped into her orange high heels.

  "Did you get your money for the night? Or did you get nothing, because of me?" I couldn't see her eyes, but I was sure she didn't like her job either.

  "I got nothing. Thanks to you."

  I felt ashamed of my behavior. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

  "Oh, well. I just hope I'm not in the same room as you next time." Stepping out of the room, she looked back. "Did you study singing?"

  I nodded slightly.

  "I liked your voice."

  "Pack your things." The owner stalked into the room; I hadn't seen her since she had beat me senseless with a club. Mija was taking care of me. She had changed her hairstyle, and it looked so strange on her. My body had recovered somewhat, but I couldn't stop retching.

  The owner found an empty, worn-out backpack in the corner of the room and threw it at me. "Hurry. Just pack the things you really need."

  I could barely sit up. I stared at her. "I don't have anything to pack. How does a person who was dragged here against her will have time to bring her own things?"

  Ignoring me, she snapped to two men at her side, "Take her."

  "Where is she going?" Mija asked, fearfully.

  The owner shouted, "Take her. Hurry!"

  I tried not to move, but it was impossible to resist the men.

  We were already near the end of the hall when the owner shouted behind me, "Your temper can destroy people around you. Leaving will be better for you and for us."

  My feet never touched the ground; the men held me up by my armpits. I asked them, through gritted teeth, "Where are you sending me?"

  "To a better place."

  They dragged me to a white car in front of the building and forced me into the front seat. I screamed and struggled to free myself; I couldn't imagine a worse place, but I somehow knew that one was waiting for me.

  I heard the sound of the car doors locking, and turned to look out the back window at my captors as the car pulled away. The only difference between today and the day I was taken from the cave was the size of the car. It was a sedan, and it smelled like leather, not sour flesh. The car moved fast and without a sound.

  I shot a sidelong glance at the driver. I could just make out his profile. It was the young man who had restrained the stout bully on my first night on the job.

  Jin, Suspicious Guy

  here were taxis everywhere. I remembered a director of the hotel back in Pyongyang proudly explaining to foreign guests that the city had over 100 taxis; I gave up counting after I reached 40. Pyongyang taxis were overpriced and definitely not popular with the natives, but the streets in China were filled with red taxis, and most had customers inside. Perhaps the taxis were not as expensive here.

  The traffic was a stew of cars, bicycles, and pedestrians, all forging ahead without consideration for each other. I even saw two donkeys pulling a cart filled with straw and big black baskets. Watching through the window of the stranger's car, it seemed to me impossible that so many different kinds of transportation could flow in such a narrow space, without any control by traffic police.

  Just a few minutes away from the karaoke bar, storefront signs changed entirely to Chinese. It was the first time I felt I was in China. And I was sitting next to a strange Chinese man.

  He drove in silence. I wanted to ask where he was taking me, but I was sure he spoke only Chinese. I remembered that he had been the calmest man in the room. A flurry of thoughts troubled my brain. He was there with the stout man; he must be his friend. It's true he helped me escape, but he might take me to an even worse place. Why did he buy me? He might have bought me for the stout man. He'll take me to him and I'll be killed. Or he might be a policeman. He pretended to be a customer in order to look for North Koreans. His real purpose was to catch us. But the stout man made a fuss, so this matt had to return to finish his mission. I had better run from this stranger.

  He sensed my restlessness and said something in Chinese. I was silent and gave him a sideways glance. A moment later, he asked me, very slowly, in English, "Do you speak English?" I nodded my head once, though I knew only a few words. He looked at me for a second, turned his eyes back to the steering wheel, and said, "Don't worry. I'm not heading to the police or taking you to the fat man."

  He seemed to be reading my mind, and it made me more anxious.

  He continued, "I know what kind of person you are. I know why you are so afraid, but I'm not someone who will denounce a woman."

  I felt a rush of relief; he had saved me from the stout man, but what was he doing? What did he want from me?

  "Did you buy me from them?" I asked suspiciously.

  He looked straight ahead and nodded. "Yes."

  I sat upright in the seat. "Why?" I fixed my eyes on the side of his face, gripping the door handle. If I didn't like his answer I would jump out of the car. Dying would be better than being dragged who knows where. I clenched my teeth.

  After a long while, he replied, "Why? I don't know." He shrugged gently. "Have you met other North Koreans here?" he asked, changing the topic.

  I didn't know what to make of him. His answers were unexpected and his questions were strange too. "Yes," I answered, shortly.

  "How do they make a living here? Do they live as you do?"

  I watched him, thinking about Sangwon and Mija. "Much worse."

  "Jesus!" he sighed.

  We drove for about an hour without speaking much. I asked him several times more what his real purpose was in buying me, to which he replied, "You just looked pathetic."

  "I was in debt to the own
er of the karaoke bar," I said. "Your sympathy saved me from repaying that, I guess." I didn't know what else to say. Instead of feeling grateful, fear of being in a car with a strange man rose up inside me. "What will you do with me?"

  "I don't know. I haven't thought about that. I was just busy negotiating the price with your boss," he answered, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  "How much did you pay? I'll pay you back. I am not a dog waiting for a master to come along." My voice reflected my embarrassment.

  He spoke lightly, "First of all, I don't raise dogs, I'm too busy to take care of dogs. Anyway, you were more expensive than the other women, according to the owner of that karaoke bar. But how would you pay me back? Did you bring money from your country?"

  I couldn't reply. Of course he knew I didn't have any money. I felt I was pushed against the wall. Did he buy me out of sympathy? He must have something to hide. I was busy trying to read his mind, and he seemed preoccupied with trying to read mine.

  "I don't know much about North Korea," he continued, "but I know people there don't have contact with foreigners and foreign things. I have a hunch that you, however, may not be typical, that you had some sort of high position. Am I right?" he cast me a searching glance.

  I remained silent and looked ahead, avoiding his eyes.

  "It's okay. It doesn't matter.... You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." We rode in silence for a moment. At length, he said, "When I saw you in that awful place, I just felt you really wanted out. And this was what I could do."

  We rapidly left the city behind; buildings became fewer and fewer, replaced by tree-covered mountains. The western sky lit up with the crimson glow of the setting sun and I felt for the first time that China was beautiful. After passing several big houses, he stopped the car in front of a fancy one, and got out of the car to smoke. Watching the sunset, he stretched his body. He was much taller than other men I had met.

  I didn't move from my seat. We were all alone; I felt it wouldn't be so hard to escape. Should I run away? Could I run away? If I did, where would I go next? I looked around the car. Behind the back seat, the head of a small bulldog doll bobbed back and forth.

  When I turned back, the man was looking at me with a half smile. "Are you going to stay there all night?" He leaned in through the driver's side window. "This is my house."

  He walked around the car and opened the door for me. I got out, and he locked it, saying, "Let's go." I didn't budge an inch. "No one will hurt you. It'll be okay." He held my arm lightly and led me into the house. At that moment, my gut told me he was someone who wouldn't lie to me. I followed him inside.

  The house was dark and seemed empty; the entryway was bare and chilly compared to the warm air outside.

  "It will be a little bit cold, sorry; I haven't used this house for a while. I'm doing my best to make it cozy, though." He looked for the light and turned it on, and I caught the smell of new furniture. "Like you, I've just arrived. I don't know this place very well, either, but I like the surroundings. There are not a lot of neighbors-I haven't talked to any yet, but a couple seemed nice."

  In the living room, he drew aside ivory curtains to reveal almost an entire wall made of glass. I could see a few houses and a thickly wooded hill. "Isn't it pretty?" my host said. "It's hard to find a house with this kind of view in China." With a satisfied smile, he took in the scene for a moment, then stroked a cream-colored sofa, which looked soft. "Let me introduce you to the house. Come on." After several steps, he wheeled around and said, "Oh, we'd better eat something first. Right? I haven't eaten since noon."

  He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the sofa, motioning me to follow him. Opposite the big window was a kitchen with stainless-steel cupboards and appliances. He opened a huge, fully stocked refrigerator and took out several plastic bags containing meat and vegetables.

  "You don't have to cook today, because it's your first day here. But you should cook for yourself starting tomorrow. I don't have time to cook for you every day."

  I had one foot inside the kitchen and one out, and I stayed that way while he cooked. He didn't ask me to sit down or help him. He was engrossed in his task; he was really good at it, too. He took a large, square knife from a drawer, and made a racket chopping the vegetables into tiny pieces at lightning speed. He prepared a vegetable and chicken dish with rice, too much for two people to eat.

  "I know Koreans don't like oily food, so I bought some spicy sauce for you. But I don't know how much you want to use. I'll put it here, separately, so you can use as much as you like."

  He flew around the kitchen. The faster he cooked, the faster he spoke. Finally, clapping his hands twice, he turned back to nle.

  "Okay, I think I'm pretty much done. Let's eat."

  He gave me an empty dish, chopsticks, and a spoon. When I caught a whiff of the dish, I was suddenly famished.

  "Big spoons, right? Isn't that Korean style?" He handed me a large, flat spoon. It seemed new. "I'm half Korean too, actually."

  My head snapped toward him, and he shrugged slightly. "My father was Korean. I don't talk about it unless people ask. I'm kind of ashamed that I can't speak any Korean. My father was too lazy to teach me, or too busy. If I had grown up here, I would have learned it from other Korean-Chinese people."

  He sat down at the kitchen table. Holding chopsticks in one hand, he looked up at me, still standing. "What are you doing? You're not going to eat? Come on, have a seat."

  He ate without another word. I had eaten almost nothing at the karaoke bar, and hunger was storming up in my stomach. The food was a bit oily, but the flavor only sparked my appetite further. We ate in silence. Longing for that kind of regular meal was changing the destinies of so many people in North Korea.

  When he put his chopsticks down on the table, I stopped eating. I stood up with my plate and reached for the other dishes, but he took them from my hands.

  "I will take care of everything tonight. You can do it starting tomorrow."

  I stepped away from him, and he put the dishes in the sink, throwing some leftovers in the trash can next to it. I thought about the kko jebi, begging for food all day. That trash would be dinner for several kko jebi. He scrubbed the plates and utensils and returned them to the cupboard. Inside the cupboard were too many bowls and plates for one person.

  "I haven't tried North Korean food before. Oh, but I like bibimbab and naengmyeon, or whatever you call that cold noodle dish. If you know how to make them, would you, sometime? "

  I didn't answer. So long as I didn't know what he really wanted from me, I knew I couldn't feel secure. My head was spinning. I should be ready to bolt, just in case. That's the lesson I've learned in my lfe. Why did he buy me? Does he want me to be his sex slave, like the other men? Is that why he brought me here, to this isolated place? My fear returned with a rush.

  Staring at his back, I said, "I was in that hell against my will. Don't be confused and think you can do whatever you want just because you bought me."

  He continued washing the pans in silence for a moment, then said quietly, "You'd better learn Chinese. I know it's hard to learn a foreign language as an adult. But if you can't speak Chinese, you'll live in fear of being arrested. You speak English, but it's not perfect either. If you meet Chinese people, you can tell them in English that you are from South Korea. But if you run into South Koreans, they'll know. Living here without speaking Chinese isn't difficult-you can go to the Korean-Chinese districts if you need something. But you are in China now. Learning Chinese will be better for you."

  I replied, as if he had not spoken, "You don't have to pretend you are a nice guy. I know every man wants one thing. I'll kill myself if you try to force yourself on me, but I'll kill you first, I'm warning you."

  He dropped the pan in the sink with a clatter. Swinging around, he glared at me, his face twitching. "You know what? I am not starving for sex. If I really wanted it, I would have taken it already. Finding women here is not
at all difficult, and you are not as attractive as you think."

  He left the kitchen, and I stood holding on to the chair with one hand.

  "Come here," he called from the next room. "I'll show you around the house."

  He pointed to the bathroom and then took me to a room on the second floor. "This is your room. These are some clothes you can wear-I didn't know your size. If they are too big or too small, let me know. I can return them and exchange them for the right sizes." He continued, "The second floor is all yours. I'll use the first floor. Take a rest tonight. If you have any question, you can call me. Good night." He started down the stairs.

  "Why are you helping me like this? I know nothing is free, and I really need to know what you want from me."

  He looked at me, frustrated. "I don't want anything from you. If you want to run away, you can. I just wanted to help you. But, whatever you do, stay away from the police. First of all, think about how you can survive here. I didn't promise I could help you forever-you'll have to find a way to stand on your own feet. Good night." He closed the door.

  I watched the door for a while. Everything had happened so fast; I had been in hell only hours ago. I locked the door and pushed the bed in front of it, so he couldn't get in. I lay down with my head next to the door, so as to hear the slightest sound on the other side. As soon as my body hit the bed, I realized how tired I was.

  I didn't want to think anymore; it didn't get me anywhere. Tomorrow, I would ask one more time what he really wanted from me. My mind still swirling, I fell asleep.

  The morning sun flooded in through a window. When I opened my eyes, I realized I hadn't even changed my clothes, or covered myself with a blanket. My body no longer ached. Getting up, I opened the door slightly and stole a peek down the hall. It was perfectly quiet. The shadows of trees played on the floor and wall opposite a window. He seemed to have left already.