Hyejin Kim - Jia - A Novel of North Korea

Inside, I felt much safer; I was still afraid of the outside. I took a shower, scrubbing hard to get rid of the dirt my life had collected. I wished all my pain would disappear down the drain, but I couldn’t get rid of Sangwon. He might still be looking for me. He didn’t mention the exact name of the place where we had stayed in the cave, but I vaguely remembered it being in the Baekdu Mountains. I thought about Kangmin and his friend, Bangmu. What did they tell Sangwon? He’s smart; he must have seen through their lies.

I thought about Gun and Sun, too. They might be close by, perhaps they passed through that same cave, took the same steps. I understood now why Gun was so worried about Sun being in China alone. Who knows, maybe Gun had already found her and they were together: that was what I hoped for most.

After showering, I fell into the most comfortable sleep I had had since arriving in China.

When I woke, it was dark again, and completely quiet. I went downstairs, but there was no sign ofJin. Feeling hungry, I searched the refrigerator, settling on some rice and vegetables.

As I was preparing my dinner, I heard Jin clear his throat behind me. I whirled around, holding a sharp knife.

He smiled and said, “Go ahead and eat. Actually, I haven’t eaten either. If you don’t mind, could you make enough for me?” Sitting down, he said, “How was your day? Did you rest enough?”

I continued chopping. “Yes, I slept all day.”

“That’s great. You must have gotten over your fatigue. Do you want me to cook?” He rolled up his sleeves.

“No, I’m almost done.” I hurriedly put the food into some small dishes and served them. Jin smacked his lips.

We sat together and ate. “How are the clothes?” Jin asked, eating with gusto. “Do they fit?”

I was too flustered to answer his questions, and I didn’t raise my head. I depended on him now.

I noticed that Jin held his rice bowl in his hand, moving it to his mouth to eat. My grandfather always instructed me not to hold my rice bowl in my hand. He would say, “Only ssangtiom”—the lowest class in dynastic times—“eat like that. Don’t even think about picking up your rice bowl. The spoon is for rice. Chopsticks are for dishes. Don’t lower your head. Raise your head while you are eating.”

Jin didn’t use his spoon at all; he preferred chopsticks for tossing lumps of steamed rice into his mouth. He seemed like a starving child, eating everything up before someone could take his meal away, and I smiled at the sight. Seeing me, he stopped suddenly and asked with his mouth full, “What? Is something wrong?”

I quickly looked down at the table. “No.” I put a load of vegetables in my mouth to show him I didn’t want to talk anymore.

“I’m glad you’ve started smiling.” He put the empty rice bowl down on the table. “Starting tomorrow, a girl will come to see you every day. She’s Korean-Chinese, and will teach you Chinese. She’s the only one who knows you’re here, so you’ll be safe with her. Whenever you have questions or problems, ask her, because I won’t be here much.”

I stopped eating and said, “Thank you for doing all of this.”

He lowered his chopsticks. “Are you not going to ask again why I am helping you?” His skin was as dark as Gun’s, but smoother, as if covered with wax.

“It’s sometimes hard to explain why people do what they do,” Jin went on. “I can’t tell you in one or two sentences why I helped you. When I first saw you, I just felt that you shouldn’t be treated like that. I felt as if I had committed a sin. Actually, before moving here I’d heard stories from a South Korean friend about North Korean defectors and how badly they were treated. I hadn’t paid that much attention to those stories at all. But when I saw you, I was shocked; I didn’t actually believe this was happening here. I’m not a philanthropist, only a businessman, focused on making money. Just consider yourself lucky. I don’t know what the next steps will be. I don’t know where you’ll want to go, but I will try to help you as much as possible.”

What could I say to that? He wasn’t like the other Chinese—not like the stout man in the bar or the karaoke owner.

“Do all Chinese people speak English, like you?” I asked, surprising myself.

He looked at me, amused. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?” he laughed. “No. Actually, I grew up in England, and I just returned to China. That’s why this house looks so new. The people in the karaoke bar wanted to do business with me—they were trying to impress me.” Jin studied my facial expression. “But it was the worst place I have ever been in.”

I carried our dishes to the sink. “I’m sorry I was so aggressive yesterday,” I said.

“No. If I were in your situation, I would behave worse. Don’t worry about that—I’ve already forgotten.”

He wiped the table with a small white towel. “By the way, is there anything else you need?”

Returning the dishes to the cupboard, I said, “No. I’m really fine now.”

“If you have something that you are reluctant to ask me, you can discuss it with the girl who will come tomorrow. Don’t hesitate.”

I sat down in front of him. “Would you do something for me, later, when you have time?”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I want to go outside.” I wanted to see everything—see where I was, with my own eyes.

“Okay. The day after tomorrow, I’ll be off, and we’ll go outside. Or did you mean right now?” He rose to his feet and picked up his jacket from the chair.

“Right now?” I asked, gazing up at him from my seat.

“Yes. Why not? Let’s go—maybe just for a short time.”

His car moved smoothly through the countryside, with the windows half-open. The fresh night air clouded as the numbers of neon lights increased.

As we entered the city, Jin said, “There are several busy districts here, they’re the young people’s favorites.”

We passed a big statue of Mao Zedong, the Great Leader of China, holding up his right hand. His pose was identical to that of Kim Il Sung at Mansudae in downtown Pyongyang. Lights surrounded him, illuminating his face. All about the statue were packs of people and the sounds of music.

“That’s the largest and most famous square here,” Jin said. “All kinds of people gather here at night. The young girls and boys dance to new music, and old people enjoy themselves with traditional dances. Let’s come here next time—it’s really interesting. You can understand the changes inside China watching all the generations together. You know, China was like your country; it had the same ideology, but that all changed so quickly after Mao Zedong passed away. So many changes… I thought North Korea would take a similar path after your Mao passed away.”

I glanced at the square. Groups of people sat right below the statue, their radios on the ground next to them. How did they dare sit there, so close? They seemed so relaxed, joyful. I could see their teeth when they smiled.

Jin drove us to a district glittering with lights. Smiling people were everywhere, and laughter filled the air. At first, I dared not watch people’s faces through the window of the car.

“It’s okay,” Jin said. “Nobody will recognize you; you’re just like everyone else on this street.”

He took me to an ice-cream shop whose high ceiling was filled with colorful balloons. The people working inside wore bright uniforms and hats, and the customers chatted noisily, laughing and holding their treats. There were even old people.

“I like to eat ice cream after a meal,” Jin said. “At times, I really miss the sweet things I had in England. Ice cream is easy to find anywhere here—Chinese people love it. Even in freezing weather, you’ll see people holding ice cream with their thick gloves. You want to try it?”