A North Korean Mom and Son’s Harrowing Escape | Harry’s Story
The town I grew up in was surrounded by mountains. When the season was right, my friends and I would hike up to look for pears. Fresh fruit was a luxury in North Korea, but the mountainside was covered in orchards. One day we snuck in when the fruit was still green, hoping to avoid the guards.
I hid in a tree, passing down pears to my friends, when we heard a whistle blow. My heart was pounding; it was like a heist movie. I rolled away and ran out of danger. Somehow, we got away with it. It didn’t even matter that the fruit we ate was not ripe and made our stomachs hurt—we felt unstoppable.
Little did I know that just a few years later, I would be running for my life once again… but this time, it was not a game. I would be escaping from North Korea.
Life in North Korea was normal to me. I went to school and spent time with my friends and older sister. All I knew about South Korea was from the movies I’d secretly watched. It seemed like a scary place, where they trafficked drugs and stole your organs.
My mom was often busy with work. She had a job that connected North Koreans to China, wiring money between families. With her income, we were able to live comfortably. But it was risky. She could usually bribe the guards to let her cross the border safely, but it wouldn’t work forever. One day, she was caught and sent to one of North Korea’s brutal prison camps.
My mom spent two years in the prison camp, forced to do intense labor every day while barely being fed. She told us later that she had shared a concrete cell with 50 other people and they lacked basic things like soap, toilet paper, and sanitary products. Guards would abuse their power and find any reason to assault them.
Many people in the camp were also women who had been arrested for crossing the border, trying to find ways to make a living and take care of their children. Dying in prison meant your crimes would be passed on to your family. And so, many of those women endured faithfully until they were released, and then passed away afterward.
When my mom finally left the camp, she quit the work she was doing and told her clients she was done. But one of them refused to hear it.
He was a South Korean fisherman whose boat had been thrown off course by a typhoon, and North Korean authorities refused to let him return home. One night, he showed up drunk at our house and threatened my mom. If she didn’t take him across the border, he would turn her in. So she had no choice. None of us did.
My mom took me with her and brought the old man to the border of North Korea. We were supposed to meet some brokers who would take him across, but they couldn’t agree on a price or a place. After a few days of waiting, everything went wrong.
The police had discovered our plan. They had our photos and were already putting up wanted posters for our capture. There was no way we could go home now. The choice was made for us. We had to flee the country with the old man.
I thought I would die that night. Armed soldiers patrol the river bordering North Korea and China, and are told to shoot defectors on sight.
If caught, my mom would have faced life in prison for her second offense—no better than a death sentence. But somehow, we made it to the other side.
In China, we waited three days in the mountains for our brokers. Every moment spent at a standstill was a huge risk, because Chinese authorities pay local citizens to report North Korean refugees. When it became clear that help wasn’t coming, we headed for a nearby village, laying low in the grass until the cover of night.
By nightfall, we took our chances and entered the village. Luckily, we met a kind woman who introduced us to a new broker. This broker helped us get to another city where the old man was picked up by South Korean officials and flown home to his family. As for me and my mom, we couldn’t go back to North Korea. So we went to see my middle sister, who had already been in China for quite some time.
Before I was born, my mom took my two sisters to China with her. She wanted them to stay there safely, but my oldest sister refused and returned to North Korea with my mom. My middle sister was left behind, sent to live with a trusted friend. But the unthinkable happened. At 12 years old, she was trafficked and sold to be married to a much older man. Every night, she would stand by the water well, threatening to hang herself if the man came near her.
But one year later, the inevitable happened. When she was just 13 years old, she had a baby.
Like many other young North Korean women, my sister went across the border seeking a better life, but ended up living her teenage years in captivity, with no laws or family to protect her. Every day she had imagined running away, until finally she did. She reunited with my mom in North Korea when she was 20.
But not everything went as hoped. Though she was happy to be together with our family again, it turned out life was just as hard in North Korea. In the end, my sister returned to her daughter in China just a few years later.
It had been years since we last saw my sister, and it was my first time meeting her daughter, my niece. We were the same age. For a month, we all enjoyed the bittersweet reunion. Then my sister connected us with another broker, and my mom and I finally escaped for good.
We eventually reached South Korea and it turns out, it wasn’t the dangerous country I had seen in movies.
Still, the memories of everything we had been through tormented me. I was angry at the old man who pressured us into his escape plan. I hated that my mom chose such a risky job in the first place.
Later we found out my oldest sister had been tortured by North Korean authorities when we left, leaving her devastated by mental illness. They wanted her to confess that our family had helped the old man escape. Someone had to take the blame. My older sister, who was once strong and reliable, would never be the same again.
When I first reached South Korea, I hid my past. Everything was terrifying and different—the culture, the lifestyle, and even the language. My new friends would hang out at internet cafes and I didn’t even know how to use a computer.
But I started learning. I studied hard in school and got a job to support myself. I began reading books to develop my own philosophy for my new life. I even started playing video games and for better or for worse, became just as obsessed as everyone else.
When I got to high school, I finally told my friends the truth about my life. Their response was so different from what I had expected. I found that rather than being cruel, they were curious. I realized the importance of my story, and how sharing my family’s painful experiences could change people’s perspectives about North Korea.
In 2019, at the end of high school, I met someone from Liberty in North Korea. I was so curious how she spoke about North Korea. She invited me to attend their Changemakers Summit and I had never experienced anything like that before—South Koreans, North Koreans, and even foreigners who were all young, open-minded, and interested in how to make an impact on this issue.
Truthfully, I never saw myself as an activist. I didn’t think I had what it takes.
But if I could change how just one person saw North Korea—to see the people and their resilience, bravery, and hope instead of the regime—I realized I was already acting as an advocate.
These days, I’m working and studying full time. After coming to South Korea my mom got her masters degree and is now writing a book about her life. My middle sister eventually escaped and joined us in South Korea too. She got remarried and finally gets to live a normal life. Even though we’re all pursuing different things, we’re still together, holding tightly to the hope that we will someday reunite with my older sister.
Today, I can be my own person. I can buy fresh fruit whenever I want, or walk along the Han river anytime. After all of the running and all of the pain, I am finally free to choose my own life.
Harry’s story echoes that of many North Korean refugees, who live with the weight of their past while grasping onto hope for the future. After what happened to his oldest sister, Harry says he has nothing left to lose. That’s why he chooses to speak openly about the horrific things he and his family have experienced, hoping to bring change and one day reunite with her in a free North Korea.
Help us continue to to sustain refugee rescues, empowerment programs, and efforts to change the way the world sees North Korea.
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5 Reasons Why Being a Field Coordinator Is Awesome
Being a field coordinator is a difficult, but incredibly rewarding job and we always come to treasure the unique and life-changing experiences we have during our time in the field. To give you some insight into what this job is like, here are the five best things about it.
Getting to know the refugees
This is by far the most amazing part of what we do. When refugees come under our care, we form strong bonds with them. Despite the vastly different stories and personalities, through our conversations, we see the common thread of remarkable perseverance and will to survive in each of the North Koreans we rescue. All of them have hopes for the future and many of the things we learn about our friends can be emotional, further strengthening our bond. We focus so much of our energy on providing food, clothes, shelter, time to rest for these refugees who have been through so much. When it comes time for them to leave, they do so with so much gratitude and strength. We believe getting to know them creates a strong relationship between the refugees and LiNK so that they feel comfortable reaching out for additional services after resettlement.
Seeing how refugees have changed post-resettlement
In Southeast Asia, the North Korean refugees we assist are still en route to their resettlement destination and are still not completely at peace. They are often nervous, anxious, and trying to process being in a world completely unfamiliar to them.
When we have the opportunity to travel to South Korea to meet with them once they have resettled, it’s always gives us a rush of anticipation because we get to see how they have changed. One particular memory we have from one of these trips is of visiting a noraebang (a Korean karaoke room) with resettled refugees. To watch them having fun was very moving. Sometimes, the simple fact that they look happy and safe is more than enough to make this job worth it.
Introducing refugees to the supporters who funded their rescues
The concept of a complete stranger donating several thousand dollars to a person in need they have never met is a completely foreign concept to many North Koreans. They are often astounded and moved that a person thousands of miles away would do something so selfless. With each refugee that comes through, we always make sure to introduce them to the person or group that helped fund their rescue, explaining who they are, where they’re from, how they found out about North Korea, and why they donated. It’s a moment when two worlds meet and the refugees often write thank you cards to donors to express their gratitude.
Observing how refugees interact with technology
It’s interesting to observe how sudden exposure to a world of technology affects a person who hasn’t grown up with it. One middle-aged refugee was hesitant about taking a photo with his head turned to the side because he thought the North Korean government had the technology to turn heads in photos and thus find out his identity. In contrast, we have also seen a North Korean child begging his mom as soon as the group arrived to turn on the TV so he could watch cartoons. The family had been well-off enough to be able to expose their son to foreign media at a young age even inside North Korea.
It’s a fascinating experience to show refugees Google Maps views of their hometowns. It’s just a simple bird's eye view, but the way their eyes light up and their fingers trace the roads to their homes, circle their schools, train stations, and marketplaces, is so visceral for them. It’s a contemplative moment for us—these people have left their country because of reasons that made life in North Korea miserable or unlivable. Despite that, North Korea is HOME and still filled with memories, both good and bad, of their childhood, family, and the simple pleasures of life—chatting with neighbors, holiday memories of gifts and special foods, and weddings.
Breaking the ice with delicious food
The first meal with every group is always quiet because we’re all meeting each other for the first time. So we always make it a point to ask about special foods the refugees had in North Korea or on the journey down as an icebreaker. Afterall, who doesn’t love talking about food? It’s true for North Koreans as well - everyone loves giving input on regional differences in preparing holiday meals, comparing market prices on fruit and produce, or complaining about the food not matching their tastes on their journey down.
We want to make sure the North Korean refugees are able to eat as much as they can to be strong enough for the remainder of their journey so we’ve made it a point to find out what foods fit best with their palates. For many of them, this journey is the first time they’ll have experience some tastes or seasonings (like cilantro) and it can come as a shock to them. It’s fun to think about what foods they would like—Yogurt? Chinese-style buns? Noodle soup? Fried rice with a fried egg on top is an all-around crowd pleaser.
Soon after the first meal, the refugees will have lively discussions about the delicious foods they ate in North Korea and when they were available. One mission, we brought out persimmons as dessert—it initiated a 20-minute discussion on the merits and differences of persimmons eaten in North Korea versus the ones bought in Southeast Asia.
Being a field coordinator is filled with many unique moments and this list summarizes just a few of them. And yes, though it is challenging at times, it’s the refugees who we are most excited to serve. We love sharing our experiences with them. No one group or mission is the same and that keeps our job exciting, varied, and dynamic.
Want to be our team in the field? Apply to be our next field coordinator!
