Hyejin Kim: Jia: A Novel of North Korea

Suddenly, he chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “But, Jia, you know what? You know what I’m doing here right now?” He looked directly into my eyes. “I’m a spy. I’m an agent who hands people like us over to the government. As soon as I get some information about North Koreans here, I give it to the North Korean police. Then they arrest them and send them back to North Korea. I’m catching people who run away, just as I did.”

He crumpled his empty cigarette box.

“Jia, do you know how I got enough money to give to that Chinese bastard? I threatened North Korean women living here, sometimes families. I told them I would turn them over to North Korean agents if they wouldn’t give me money. I forced the money out of them. A few of them I beat. I used them to save Sun.”

I was incredulous. I glared at him with my eyes wide.

“You asked where I was for three months? I was in prison. I was tortured and trained to be a secret agent, to catch North Koreans in China.” His gloomy eyes looked into mine. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to turn you in. They found my father and mother in China while I was in prison. They told me they would protect them if I cooperated; otherwise, I wouldn’t see my parents again in this life. My father died, but they still have my mother. I don’t know where she is right now from the letters they hand me regularly; I only know she’s not dead yet.”

Feeling concern for him, I asked, “Are you okay here, with me? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Gun looked at the door for a moment. “They already suspect me and keep a close watch on me—that’s why I was so cautious in meeting with you. I’ve stopped giving them information about North Koreans. When they realize I’m not useful to them anymore, they’ll take me back to prison. Who knows when? Maybe tomorrow!” He laughed absentmindedly.

I walked out of the room. My brain needed some fresh air. I told Gun I would bring back something for us to drink.

The street was filled with people, as usual. There were many women Sun’s age, walking quickly, dressed in their finest. Some girls laughed loudly with their friends, others walked arm in arm with their boyfriends, broad smiles on their faces. A distance of a few miles meant a world of difference between their fates and the fates of Sun and Gun.

Sun had always spoken brightly of her future, what she would do, how she would live. How different were the circumstances of her death. Is this world fair at all? I was sure, when Sun finally met up with Gun in China, that she must have been heartbroken and confused. What happened to her was not her fault; she must have been wracked with shame. It was shame that prevented her from leaving right away, though her instinct was to escape with Gun as soon as possible. I understood her desperation, the struggle taking place in her mind. I imagined her resolving to start life anew with Gun, how happy she must have been packing her things that night. I couldn’t stop crying.

I had often dreamed of their happy reunion somewhere in China. I even imagined running into them on the street, or in a store; completely free of starvation, unafraid of being caught for our “crimes.” We would meet in an ice-cream parlor and talk about our futures, enjoying the sweet flavors.

It could only be a dream. Walking back to the inn with two bottles of water, I thought about how much Gun had changed and how he had tortured himself. I didn’t know what to do with him. Should I urge him to think of his own safety from now on? Could I tell him about my own luck? My sadness and despair at losing Sun would only make him feel more guilty and desperate. I knew I couldn’t lose Gun as well. I needed to pull him out of the hell he had descended into. Kind words from a friend would help him. I hastened back to the inn.

Opening the door with the brightest face I could muster, I found the room empty. Gun was already gone. He left only a note:

Jia,

I caused everything. I realize that it’s not our fortune to guide our own lives. I was the one who killed her. I don’t exist anymore. I don’t breathe anymore. I’m not a living being anymore.

I hurried outside and ran wildly down the street searching for him. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault; he needed to hear those words just as Sun had. We were not just victims, but also survivors. I wanted to remind him that we are living, here and now. This is what we must hold on to.

But he had vanished as quickly as he came. I remained frozen there, on the busy street, for what seemed like hours, searching the faces of passersby.

Hyejin Kim has written for numerous publications, including Asia Times . She has a Ph.D. in global affairs from Rutgers University. In 2003 she received the Korean Novelist Association’s award for Best Television Drama Scenario. Jia was inspired by her human rights work with North Korean refugees in northern China.

Copyright­ © 2007 by Hyejin Kim

All rights reserved. Except for brief passage quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may by reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published in the United States by Midnight Editions, an imprint of Cleis Press Inc., PO. Box 14697, San Francisco, California 94114.

Printed in the United States.

Cover design: Scott Idleman

Cover design: Frank Wiedemann

First Edition.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Kim, Hyejin.

Jia : a novel of North Korea / by Hyejin Kim. -- 1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-57344-275-6 (pbk.: alk. paper)

1. Political persecution--Fiction. 2. Korea (North)--Fiction. I. Title.

PS3611.I4548J53 2007

813’.6--dc22 2007012358