A North Korean Defector’s Nine Year Journey to Freedom | Eunju’s Story
I didn’t know I was hungry until I was eight years old. Growing up, I had no concept of whether my hometown was wealthy or poor. Then when the great famine struck in the mid-90s, more people died in our city than anywhere else in the country.
That’s when I realized “Oh, this is the most difficult place to live in North Korea.”
I was born in the city of Eundok, North Hamgyong Province. Before that it was called Aoji, a destitute place infamous for its coal mines, where South Korean prisoners of war were sent to work.
In the middle of a long famine, people lose all sense of humanity. You couldn’t survive without dirtying your hands. My father was a kindhearted person, the type that was unable to hurt anyone. But towards the end, hunger drove him to steal from our own house.
On my first day of middle school, I couldn’t find my new backpack anywhere. It turns out that my dad had taken it to the Jangmadang, traded it for food, and eaten it by himself. In the end, he still died from starvation, and my mom, my sister, and I were left to fend for ourselves.
We heard that if we went to China, we could eat all the candy we wanted. With that one piece of information, my mom said she’d rather get shot crossing the Tumen river than starve in North Korea.
It was mid-February in 1999, during the bitter cold winter. The water was frozen solid and stretched over 100 meters across. My mom went first, followed by my sister, and I was in the very back. Maybe it was because I was anxious, but my shoes felt so slippery and I kept falling over as they went farther and farther ahead. We heard that soldiers would shoot anyone who tried to cross the river. But this was our only chance at survival.
My mind was racing, “What if I’m left behind and get caught?” My mom and sister probably feared the same thing.
We encountered a tributary that wasn’t frozen all the way, so my mom waited and had me go first because I was the lightest. A few steps in, the ice broke and I fell into the piercing cold water. None of us knew how to swim. At that moment, I really thought it was the end. But then my feet hit the ground. We had made it to the other side.
Not long after we had crossed into China, a Korean-speaking woman came up to us. She invited us to her house and gave us over a dozen boiled eggs, more food than we had seen in years. In North Korea, when my sister and I had a field trip for school, my mom would cut one boiled egg and give each of us half in our lunch box. To have this much at once was a true luxury. For the first time in a long while, we dared to have some hope.
But then my mom was sold off to a Chinese man. The fortunate thing was that even though my sister and I were 16 and 14 years old, we were so short that people asked if we were 7 or 8. They couldn’t sell us separately, so we were sent together with our mom.
We had been sold for 2000 yuan. When we wanted to leave, the man told us to pay him back. We worked in his house and on his farm but of course we never saw a penny. For three years, we lived in confinement, and my little brother was born.
On a quiet night before my brother was even a year old, Chinese police came to the house in the dark, knocked on the door, and arrested us.
When North Koreans get caught, sometimes they’ll roll up their money and eat it or hide it, but we didn’t have anything. We were taken back across the border with just our clothes. It’s well known that there’s a physical exam to look for hidden money. In a way, you shouldn’t even feel a basic sense of shame as a woman and as a human being. If you cry or plead for mercy, you’ll get beaten up. You cannot question them at all.
With so many people in North Korea dying of starvation, names were removed from the family register after three years without any news. We had already been declared dead. There were two minors and an adult, but our identities couldn’t be confirmed. At the time they couldn’t keep minors in prison without a ruling from the court, so we were entrusted to another person from our hometown. No one wanted extra mouths to feed, so he just let us go.
We went straight to the Tumen river and in 2002, we escaped again.
I had enough food when I was in China. Even dogs and pigs ate rice and corn. But we lived looking over our shoulders, in constant fear of the police.
When we heard about life in South Korea, where our safety and identities would be guaranteed, we decided to defect once more. We were introduced to a broker, gave them some cash upfront, and traveled through Mongolia and the Gobi Desert.
On September 1st, 2006, I arrived at Incheon airport with my mom. My sister joined us in South Korea in 2008. Nine years after first crossing the Tumen River, we were finally together in freedom.
When I was in China, my only wish was that my mom, sister, and I could sleep together, eat together, and come home from work together. I dreamed that someday we could go to the supermarket and get a whole cart full of things to share. After coming to South Korea, we achieved not only that, but everything we’ve ever wanted.
I co-authored a book about my journey, A Thousand Miles to Freedom, with a foreign journalist named Sebastien Falletti. He interviewed several North Koreans, and I agreed to share my story with him out of a sense of duty. I never thought he’d choose me.
Compared to North Korean defectors who live special lives, I don’t actually dream of being a human rights activist. There are times when I don’t want to share anymore and I feel like I have to repeat myself.
But then I think about my best friend in North Korea. Her name is Sunhwa and I don’t think she’s here yet. I imagine that she would want to live like me — to attend college, pave her own way, and explore the vast world we live in. But she is still stuck in the darkness. Until Sunhwa can live a life of freedom, I feel a sense of responsibility to continue to share.
When I think of North Korea, the dark image of my hometown floods my memories. But I would still like to go back just once and visit my dad’s grave. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that he was also a victim of the North Korean regime. I have hope that in this lifetime, North Korea will open up. I’ll return with my mom and my sister, and together we’ll visit my dad’s resting place and prepare a huge meal for him.
For North Koreans to share their stories with audiences around the world, retelling and reliving some of the most harrowing experiences, is an act of exceptional courage. They’re working towards the day when others no longer have to go through the same painful experiences.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives in freedom.
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Meet Noel, Our Newest North Korean LiNK Staff Member!
History has been made!! We have hired our first full-time North Korean resettlement staffer! Noel Kim might look familiar and that’s because she was LiNK Advocacy Fellow and intern at our Seoul office! As our newest Program Coordinator in Seoul, she works side-by-side with newly resettled North Koreans as they overcome the challenges of starting over in a new society.
We recently sat down with Noel to learn more about her new job and her own experience coming to South Korea.
How is it been working at LiNK so far?
Work is fun! Every moment I feel like my job is meaningful so it doesn’t feel like work at all. I became a staffer after being an intern so the work is similar but with more responsibilities and opportunities.
Why did you want to work at LiNK?
I joined LiNK last year as an Advocacy Fellow. I witnessed what LiNK does for the North Korean people and it was inspirational. I am from North Korea and it’s my responsibility to help but when I came to South Korea, I didn’t do anything to support my fellow North Koreans. I was embarrassed about that so when I heard about LiNK I saw it as an opportunity to make a meaningful impact!
How do your own experiences as a resettled refugee help you when you’re with our North Korean friends?
I lived through the same experiences so I think they trust me from the get go. I try to comfort them and give them advice on educational opportunities, resettlement programs, and even fun things they can do now that they are free. I also tell them to travel around South Korea.
There’s a North Korean saying, "A walking fool is better than a sitting intellectual."
You have to go see and experience how society works for yourself. You have to go see what clothes people wear, how they talk, and where they go to hang out. I believe being curious helps people adjust to South Korean society much faster.
What are some of the challenges resettled refugees you work with are facing in South Korea?
Usually, the people I meet struggle a lot with their North Korean accents. When I came to South Korea, I was ashamed of my accent too. The moment you open your mouth people know you're from North Korea. It makes you feel different. But I always tell the North Koreans I meet that with time their accents will naturally fade and not to stress too much about it.Also, older people who want to learn a skill usually have doubts that they can achieve their dreams at their age. I don’t think age matters, so I encourage them not to think like that but I completely understand and empathize with their concerns and feelings.
You’re working with North Koreans who have just resettled in South Korea, what was one of the hardest challenges you faced when you resettled?
One of them was making choices. When I lived in North Korea, I was never free. But then I came to South Korea and had freedoms I had never had before. It sounds strange, but it was not easy having so much freedom. For example, choosing your college major or your dream for your life was a new challenge. There were too many choices. I didn’t know what I should do or what I should choose. I recently read the book Escape from Freedom and as I read it, it hit me – I was running away from freedom.
It was so good to have freedom, but because I never had it before, I didn’t know what to do with it. Now that I have the freedom to do what I want, I'm working on doing something great with it.
What has been your favorite moment while working at LiNK?
It was a few months ago. The South Korea office had a karaoke gathering with LiNK’s board members and a lot of our North Korean friends. We just hung out and sang a lot of songs. That was one of my favorite memories because I was the emcee! I got to dance and I sang “Chingu” ( or “Friend”), a very old song I sang when I was younger.
It was my first time meeting so many North Koreans in one place in South Korea. I thought,“This is amazing that we are all together. It’s so much easier to be happy when we are together.”
What are your future plans or goals?
I am going to continue writing. I want to finish writing a book by the time I’m 30. I don’t care if it’ll ever be published. I just want to do it. And even if it seems far in the future, when North Korea opens, I want to return. I want to do whatever I can for the North Korean people. My work now at LiNK is preparing me for the day North Korea finally opens.
Want to to learn more about our resettlement work? Check it out here!
