Hyejin Kim: Jia: A Novel of North Korea

“In the place you’re going, show these pictures and say these are your grandparents and your mother. If people ask you where you are from, what your parents are doing, and where they are, don’t say anything. Just say you don’t remember. Don’t talk to strangers before you meet your grandparents. Just tell them you have pictures and you know they are of your grandparents and mom, and that the baby is you. Say you have to meet them. The pictures will definitely take you to your grandparents. Okay? Erase your whole memory of this place. You’ll miss us, but don’t ask other people to take you back here—it might put our lives at risk. It’s for your safety and our safety. You understand, Jia?”

I couldn’t understand why they were so serious, but I nodded my head on and on. It was then that Grandmother told me the story of my parents, how they fell in love and why they were torn apart. She assured me that my mother’s death was natural, and not my fault. My grandmother was treating me like an adult, and it delighted me.

That night, Uncle Shin came back, and my grandmother served him a whole table full of dishes. My sister and I were beside ourselves at the sight of all the food: jangjolim (beef boiled in soy sauce) and steamed potato with glazed millet jelly, which we only ate on special days, like the Great Leader’s birthday. As we wolfed the food down noisily, I completely forgot about leaving and the conversations with my grandparents.

Tapping my stomach, filled to satisfaction, I fell asleep as usual while they talked. In the middle of the night, my body was shaken awake, and when I opened my eyes I saw only my grandmother’s face close to mine. She spoke in a whisper, “Jia. Get up. You have to leave right now.”

I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes; I didn’t expect it so soon.

“Where?”

“Get up. Put these clothes on.”

She dressed me hurriedly. I was still so sleepy. “Do I have to go right now?”

“Yes—there’s no time.”

Still I rubbed my eyes, looking for my sister. She was in a deep slumber next to me, “How about Sister?”

With flushed cheeks, Grandmother buttoned my dark-green coat—my sister’s favorite. “She is not going right now. Hurry.” She led me by my hand outside.

Uncle Shin and Grandfather were already outside waiting for me. Everything was dark. I asked my grandfather, again, “Is my sister going with me?” I didn’t want to leave by myself, though I was happy to go anywhere with Uncle Shin.

“No. She’s not going to go.” Grandfather strapped my small bag on my back.

Uncle Shin stooped to level his eyes with mine. He smiled and rubbed my head. “Ready to go?”

“Why do we have to go right now? Let’s go later. It’s still night.”

Uncle Shin took my hand, still rubbing my eyes. “No… it’s already late. Let’s go right now, Jia.”

He exchanged brief words with my grandparents; my grandfather patted his shoulder. My grandmother hugged me tightly and my grandfather stood up next to her, smoking. With a blank face, he said, “Don’t forget what we told you, Jia.”

I couldn’t even say good-bye to my sister. When I looked back, my grandparents were just two dark lumps under the starlight. They didn’t move until my eyes lost sight of them.

I couldn’t walk very well in the dark; Uncle Shin carried me on his back, walking fast, and talked about his daughter. Half asleep, I heard only part of what he said.

“I never carried my daughter on my back. Can you believe that? I was such a strict father. I always wanted to kiss her cheek and hug her, but I just didn’t. I didn’t know how to express my feelings about her. She was my treasure… such a treasure. I was not a good father, but she always jumped on me whenever I came home, like you did.”

I wondered if my father would carry me on his back, if he saw me just one time.

We had been walking for quite some time when Uncle Shin suddenly stopped and looked around. Emerging from the bushes, we came to a big road, and he took me down from his back, holding my two arms before me.

“Jia, just sit down here and don’t move. Wait for two army cars to come. When you see them, sit up and wave your hands. If you see me among those soldiers, pretend you don’t know me, just say you’re lost. Whatever they ask, say you don’t remember anything and ask us to take you to your home, then show the pictures and say they’re your grandparents. Do you understand, Jia? I know you are a very smart girl. I know it will be scary to be here by yourself, but it’s just for a few hours. After that, we’ll take you to your grandparents safely.”

He gave me rice balls with sesame oil and salt and a brown red-bean cake.

“If you feel hungry, eat these.”

Uncle Shin sat me by the road at the edge of the bushes. It was almost dawn.

As he ran away, uphill, he turned back and shouted, “It’ll be bright soon! Don’t be scared!”

Then he disappeared from sight.

I was totally alone. It was cold and there was nothing but trees and grass in every direction. I had never been so far away from home, and the path I was on lay far beyond the realm that I knew, back in the forest. I looked back at the world that had been my home; now, from the outside, it no longer felt familiar. Tall reeds swayed in the wind. I heard the occasional stirring of cicadas in the bushes. Starting and then falling silent, the more the insects cried, the closer they seemed to me. I was frightened an animal would appear in front of me and attack me.

I began sobbing, crumpling with fear. I missed my sister and grandparents. I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t understand why I had to meet my mom’s parents this way. After I had exhausted myself I lay down on the road, curled up, and fell asleep.

I didn’t hear the cars pull up and stop in front of me. One of the men nudged me with his boots, and I woke up to find soldiers all around, looking down at me.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here?”

I was confused, I thought I was still in our room at home, lying next to my sister, but my surroundings were strange. I couldn’t answer his question. I was too scared to talk at all, and froze until my eyes fixed on Uncle Shin. He was almost covered by the other soldiers, but at the sight of me, he smiled slightly, his eyes filled with worry. As soon as I found his face, I remembered the night journey and falling asleep alone in the darkness. I burst into tears, not out of fear, but comfort—relieved that I had discovered him.

“Look at this girl…”

One soldier sat down to console me. He had bushy eyebrows that wriggled along above his eyes like two pine-eating caterpillars whenever he spoke. He stood me up, dusted off my coat, and said, “Why do you sleep here? Where’s your house?”

“I don’t know where I am. I’m looking for my grandparents,” I sobbed.

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know. Take me to my grandparents.”

I wanted to go back to the mountain. I missed my grandparents and wanted to jump into their arms.

“Do you have your birth ID?” he took the backpack from my back and handed it to another soldier next to him, who opened it to search inside.

“No. I don’t have it.”

Their faces wore worried looks.

“Where do they live?”

I looked at Uncle Shin. His eyes tried to say something through his nervous countenance. I followed my grandmother’s instruction exactly: “Pyongyang.” His head nodded slightly with a smile.

“Do you live there?” The bushy-eyebrow man gave a suspicious look. I nodded my head lightly.

“But why are you here right now? This is far away from Pyongyang—a kid can’t get here alone.”

“I don’t know. I was here when I opened my eyes. Take me to my grandparents,” I wailed.