North Koreans Learning English | Interview with LELP Student & Volunteer
As North Korean refugees resettle in South Korea’s competitive society, conversational English ability has been identified as a top need for personal and professional growth.
The LiNK English Language program (LELP) has become a mainstay in our efforts to help build the capacity of North Koreans as agents of change. Students are matched 1:1 with volunteer tutors from all around the world, leading to customized practice, conversations that break down barriers, and connections that will last a lifetime. In addition to weekly virtual study sessions, the program includes in-person bonding activities and a semesterly speech contest.
Spring 2024 has been the program’s biggest semester yet with 156 participants, including 78 North Korean students and 78 volunteers! Meet Stella, a North Korean student pursuing her PhD in Economics, and Cydney, a long-time LELP volunteer from the United States.
Please briefly introduce yourselves and share how you first met!
Stella - Hi, I’m Stella from North Korea. I’m currently living in South Korea and working towards getting my PhD in Economics.
Cydney - I’m Cydney, I’m from the US. I’ve been in South Korea for four years, teaching English at a hagwon. I’ve been a volunteer with LELP for two years now.
Stella - I don’t exactly remember when we met, it’s been so long!
Cydney - I think it was at the LELP hiking event! That was our first time meeting in-person.
Stella - Right, I was a little nervous then.
Cydney - Now we meet up all the time, going out for drinks and finding new places to check out in Seoul.
What has been your favorite activity during the program?
Stella - I really enjoy the speech contest. I can share my story and everyone is so attentive - the other North Korean students, volunteers, and LiNK staff. At other places, they’ll give you fixed questions that you have to answer. But LiNK gives you complete control over what you want to talk about.
People say North Koreans come from a prison, and sadness is the primary emotion. But in my experience, there is happiness even in the small things. I love to talk about those stories, my childhood memories.
First I’ll write my speech in Korean, and then I’ll write it again in English with Cydney’s help. I say what I want to express and she’ll help me.
Cydney - Sometimes I’ll write five different sentences and explain the nuances to Stella, and then she’ll go ‘okay that one, that’s how I want to say it.’
Stella - The days leading up to the speech content, I have so many feelings and emotions while I’m busy preparing. But afterwards, I feel a sense of relief. I love it because by sharing my story, I’m realizing new things about myself.
Cydney - I’m usually crying when she finishes delivering her speech. I’m just so happy and proud of all her hard work, and she’s so good at it. Hearing the speeches of the other students is also always so inspiring.
Is there a moment or everyday interaction where you felt LELP helped you?
Stella - Yes, there is. This semester I’m taking a microeconomics seminar and the class goes into English all the time. The professor asks us questions, and we have to answer in English. If I wasn’t part of LELP, then I would have never thought about raising my hand and talking with confidence. Even if my grammar isn’t perfect, I can still comfortably share my thoughts.
What are your dreams or goals?
Stella - I have a big dream. I want to be a professor someday, at the undergraduate or graduate level. More than just teaching a certain topic or subject, I hope to instill in my students a love of learning. That’s what my teacher back in my hometown did for me. I’ve been able to come this far because of her, and she continues to inspire me to this day.
In North Korea, education opportunities are limited. But my teacher always tried to help me. She told us that if we had big dreams, then we can grab the chance to make it happen. She taught me a lot of things, about life and to see more than our current circumstances. I think about her all the time, even now, and I want to be like her - a good teacher and a good person.
I consider this my third chance at life. First I just survived in North Korea, and second in China. Now in South Korea, I can finally live freely.
Cydney - I love this story. Since I know Stella wants to be a professor, I also asked why, and she shared her memories from growing up in North Korea. Knowing that she’s wanted to do this for so long, it just makes sense.
As for my future goals, I don’t have anything concrete like teaching, but I want to help people. I want to use all the things I learn and that I’m interested in to help people find themselves. LELP has given me a great opportunity to meet new friends from different backgrounds and be a part of this meaningful cause as a volunteer.
Has being part of this program changed your perspective on North Korea?
Cydney - Yes, definitely. Before LiNK, I had read a lot of books and biographies from North Koreans. With that kind of exposure, you hear a lot of the hard stuff. Very inspirational stories about incredible people, but tough to read. I wanted to get a bigger picture of the issue, and that naturally led me to LiNK. After volunteering with LELP for two years, my perspective has not just changed, but really expanded.
I’ve had a lot of conversations with Stella where the contexts of what we’re talking about could not be more different, but our experiences are very much the same. It’s brought this universal view of people doing their best to live their lives, and connecting over it.
Stella - A lot of times, people want to hear hard stories from North Koreans. If you talk about your happiness, they ask ‘Why are you here then? You can go back there.’ It always surprises me - how can they say something like that? People living anywhere, have both happy times and difficult situations. But they don’t want to hear positive things from North Korea, they just want to hear that you were living in hell.
But LiNK is different. I feel like I can just talk comfortably. It has made me want to continue this program. Other places have a political focus but LiNK doesn’t, just real human stories.
Cydney - It’s one of my favorite things about how LiNK shares stories of North Koreans. They don’t shy away from the hardship, but they’re showing happy, thriving people and smiling faces. It’s not, ‘come to our page to learn about our sadness,’ but ‘learn about these real people whose experiences we want to share.’
Did LiNK’s program further your interest in sharing North Korean stories and experiences?
Stella - Actually we planned it, we talked about her drawing pictures and me writing the stories.
Cydney - It’s still very much in the talking phase, but it’s been my dream to make a webtoon! We’ve thought about creating one together about a little North Korean girl and sharing Stella’s experiences through this format.
My undergraduate degree was in history, so I spent a long time studying situations similar to what happens in North Korea. It’s hard for me to know that I live in a time where people go through such things, especially people close to me, like Stella. I think what LiNK does is so important because it’s trying to change the narrative and what the history of North Korea will be. If I can have any part of it, I want to do what I can.
What is something that each of you learned from each other?
Stella - Cyndey is just such a strong person. Before I met her, I thought I was strong, but we shared our stories and I’m so amazed by her determination. She’s alone here in South Korea, with a different language and culture, but she never complains. She always tries to make the best of life and find happiness.
Cydney - I lived in the States, then I lived in China, and then in Korea. So there have been a lot of cultural challenges. The longer I’m here, I realize, ‘Oh, the things that I’m culturally used to are so different here that it’s starting to weigh on me.’ In those times, it’s been so great to talk to Stella.
That’s something we relate closely on, actually, both having to learn to live in South Korea.
She’s become one of my closest friends and we spend 90% of our time together just laughing. She’s so ambitious. I watch her do everything she can to reach her goals, and I think to myself, ‘I can do that too.’
Stella - I’m still reflecting on my experiences, so sometimes I try to find therapy but it hasn’t really helped me. But talking with Cydney has. She listens without judgment, and feels with me. So it’s become not just studying English together, but I feel healed with her.
Thank you for making programs like the LiNK English Language program possible. Every day, we see the impact that opportunities like this have in the lives of our North Korean friends, and members of this global movement.
Help us ensure that the LELP can continue, improve, and expand in the years to come.
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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.
