Lunar New Year in North Korea | What is Seollal (설날)?
North Korea has several major holidays, the most prominent being centered around the birthdays of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-il. But there are some holidays that predate the regime, and continue to be celebrated in both North Korea and South Korea.
Seollal (설날) is one of these traditionally significant days. Known more broadly as Lunar New Year, it marks the first day of the lunar calendar and is observed in many Asian cultures. While January 1st marks New Year’s Day on the Gregorian calendar used by many western countries, the exact date of Lunar New Year differs every year. It typically falls at the end of January or beginning of February, and is celebrated over a period of three days.
Seollal in South Korea
In South Korea, Seollal is a time for families to gather and honor their ancestors. With people across the nation traveling back home, roads are packed and train, bus, and plane tickets are all booked months in advance.
Long hours are spent preparing traditional foods like tteokguk (떡국), or rice cake soup, and jeon (전), a savory pancake-like dish usually made with green onions. The act of eating tteokguk symbolizes turning one year older in Korean, and is believed to bring good luck and health for the year ahead.
Food is also an important component of Charye (차례), a memorial service to honor one’s ancestors. Led by the family’s eldest son, an assortment of dishes are set out on a table as an expression of gratitude, and rites are performed for the last four generations of one’s ancestors.
Another well known Seollal tradition is Sebae (세배). Younger members of the family, often while wearing traditional hanboks (한복), do a deep bow to their elders with the greeting “새해 복 많이 받으세요,” which translates to “May you receive good fortune and blessings in the new year.” In return, elders share words of wisdom and sebaetdon (세뱃돈), new year’s money in a colorful envelope.
The rest of the holiday is usually spent exchanging stories, reflecting on the past year, and playing Korean traditional games like Yutnori (윷놀이), which involves four wooden sticks that are tossed like dice to move tokens around a board.
Seollal in North Korea
In North Korea, the celebration of Seollal is encouraged by the state to emphasize Korean folk traditions. Historical programs are broadcast on TV, and local authorities organize mandatory activities such as kite flying and spinning tops. North Koreans gather with loved ones over the highly anticipated three day rest from work.
But unlike in South Korea, January 1st is actually considered the more important holiday to celebrate the New Year. This is when North Koreans do Sebae. Instead of the South Korean greeting, it’s customary to say “새해를 축하합니다,” or “Congratulations on the new year.”
On New Year’s morning, it is compulsory for all North Koreans to visit statues or portraits of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il. After that, respects must be paid to town leaders, particularly the person in charge of one’s unit, such as the company president or homeroom teacher. Finally, greetings are exchanged between in-laws and neighbors, and families gather for ancestral rites, sharing food, and other traditional festivities.
Another key difference between New Year’s celebrations in North and South Korea is that there is no widespread travel. The lack of freedom of movement inside the country means it is extremely difficult for North Koreans to go from one city to another for any reason. Any requested travel requires a specific stated purpose, proper identification, and documentation that must go through several levels of approval, including from the head of the neighborhood watch (inminban), local People’s Committee, local district office, and a relevant police officer. Permits for restricted areas, such as Pyongyang and the border regions, require more complex issuing processes.
Yet both New Year’s Day and Seollal in North Korea are still celebrations of life and community. Many North Korean refugees fondly remember the holiday, recalling not the state enforced displays of propaganda, but precious time spent with loved ones.
“I grew up with a lot of aunts and uncles and they all lived in the same area, so on Seollal…everyone would get together to make rice cakes, noodles, and dumplings. After making a lot of food, we’d play Yutnori and everyone would start squabbling. Then we’d find out everyone’s fortune. I miss it now.”
- Hannah, escaped from North Korea in 2015
On Seollal, North Koreans don’t do a separate bow because they have already greeted the New Year. Depending on the region, North Koreans enjoy a variety of dishes like tteokguk (떡국), manduguk (만두국), dwejigukbap (돼지국밥), songpyeon (송편), nokdujijim (녹두지짐), and noodles.
“North Korea is a very communal society, so everyone gets together on Lunar New Year. The adults would play card games and Yutnori, we’d eat delicious food, and spend time together until the sun went down. I would wake up especially early to visit the homes of the neighborhood elders and they’d share the food they made with me… Later in the afternoon, I’d go to my homeroom teacher’s house with all my friends, and we’d play there until late in the evening.”
- Yulseong, escaped from North Korea in 2017
All around the world, the New Year is a highly anticipated time of reflection, gratitude, and turning the page. It’s a universal experience, one that is shared with the North Korean people as well!
Finally Free
I went to Southeast Asia to see where LiNK’s Field Team rescues North Korean refugees. Here’s what I found…
Refugees must cross terrain like this to reach safety in Southeast Asia
We’re on a dirt road weaving around potholes.
On one side, the rice reaches to the horizon. On the other, corn stretches higher than the van.It feels like rural Iowa, but hotter and with palm trees.
The van lurches along, swaying back and forth with the ruts in the road. We’ve been driving for five hours through dense jungle and villages so small that you’d miss them if you blinked. It’s starting to seem like we’re in the middle of nowhere.
We finally coast to a stop and LiNK’s Field Manager points to a steep ravine.
“We’re here,” she says.
“We’ve rescued North Korean refugees right here,” she continues.
For the next hour we stop every couple hundred yards. She points to a field or a patch of trees and recounts stories.Stories of screeching to a stop, sliding open the door, and pulling North Korean refugees into the van.Stories of refugees so dehydrated they barely have the words to ask for water.
Stories of people collapsing in exhaustion, caked in mud and peppered with bruises from the long trek through the jungle.“What do refugees do once they’re in the van?” I ask.“Some start crying, the tears stream down their cheeks. They’re so overwhelmed that they finally made it. Others flash smiles in triumph, soaking in every second.”
I realize we’re not on just any dirt road.
This road meanders along the border. You can’t see the line but throw a stone in a certain direction and it’s likely to land in another country.For North Korean refugees this border means everything. Cross it, and they’re safe. The North Korean regime cannot have them arrested and forcibly returned.The danger is finally gone — evaporated in the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity of Southeast Asia.
For the first time in their entire lives: they are free.
It’s a week later and I’m sitting in an air-conditioned coffee shop that sells overpriced lattes.
I’m back in South Korea to interview a North Korean woman who reached freedom through LiNK’s rescue network.It took her four tries to make it to South Korea.She was arrested twice at the North Korean border and once in China. Each time the punishments seemed unimaginable, but they’re terrifyingly common.She recounts the horrific torture she endured for trying to escape. The way they slammed her head into a nail on the wall. The torment of witnessing cellmates whither away from starvation. The heartbreak of watching her 5-year old daughter being beaten in front of her.I’m trying hard to collect the facts. But hers is one of those stories that hollows you out. Leaving you nauseous and numb.The conversation dwindles. I can see the toll that sharing these stories are having. Her shoulders start to slump. She barely looks up to make eye contact anymore.I pull out my phone and show her a video. Her eyes flash with life.
20 seconds pass and she’s still glued to the phone.
It’s a video of that dirt road. And the exact place where she finally reached freedom. There are corn stalks on the left and a small farmhouse hidden behind palms leaves on the right.“Do you remember this place?” I ask.“How could I ever forget it?” she says without looking up.She’s smiling for the first time all afternoon.
