"And We Will Be Free" Jo Eun's Story
The Tumen River starts on the slopes of Mount Paektu. Its icy waters twist and turn for hundreds of miles before slipping off the Korean peninsula and into the East Sea. In the summer, the reeds along the river grow taller than me and yellow and white wildflowers blossom along the banks.
I was born next to the Tumen. I grew up playing on its rocky shore, splashing and swimming in its waters. In the winter my friends and I would race up and down on ice skates. For my mom’s birthday, we would catch fish and cook them under the shade of a tree. I have many fond memories of the Tumen.
But I want to tell you about the times I tried to cross it. Because those times nearly cost me my life. The Tumen is more than a river. It’s a razor that cuts its way between North Korea and China. It’s a meandering border of shallow water that you can wade across in minutes. And in the winter, you can slide across its ice even faster. Just like I did for the final time last year.
I decided to cross the Tumen for the first time 8 years ago. I did it for my daughter. Her name is Hee-Mang which means hope in Korean. As a baby she was so calm and happy. I would adore her sweet smile and when I held her it melted away the pain and heartache of life in North Korea.
When she started saying “mommy” and took her first steps I was ecstatic. Her laughter was precious and her eyes beamed with life. But I was always worried that I couldn’t be a good mother.
I wanted to give Hee-Mang a better life than I had.
I knew of friends who had defected to South Korea. They sent money back and their families seemed to be much better off. So I decided to leave North Korea to make money and eventually bring Hee-Mang to freedom.
The first time I tried to cross the Tumen I didn’t get far. The broker I hired to help me escape worked for the secret police. They dragged me out of my hiding spot and sent me off to a detention center.
That’s where I first learned how much freedom would actually cost.
It was March and a pregnant woman arrived after being arrested in China. The courtyard of the detention center was covered in snow and ice. The guard forced her to walk around on her hands and knees in the snow for hours. He mocked her, saying that you got pregnant with the baby of a dog so you have to walk like a dog. Then he’d pry open her mouth and spit in it. If any of us cried or pleaded for him to show mercy, he’d force us to do the same.
When we weren’t crammed into our cells, sleeping on a filthy floor, we were forced to work. From 5am to 11pm we’d go into the mountains to gather firewood. The labor left your hands raw with blisters and the cold bit at your fingers and toes.
We were only fed a quarter of an ear of corn per meal. It was never enough and the hunger clawed at our stomachs. People grew so hungry that the guards had to drag them from the toilets so they wouldn’t eat their own feces. Some mornings I woke up to find one of my cellmates stiff and lifeless. We’d march off to gather firewood and their pale body just laid there, their cheeks hollowed out from the hunger.
One afternoon, I decided to escape. I walked over to an unlocked window, flung myself out the opening, and started running. For 4 days I trekked through the wilderness until I reached my hometown. But from the hill above my parent’s house I could see the security agents waiting for me. I had no place to go and I was terrified of being caught. I wanted to see Hee-Mang again but it was too dangerous.
So I returned to the Tumen River. It was summer now – when the rains come up from the south and the river swells into a rage. It was pouring the night I crossed and the current swept me downstream. I waded out on the other side and into China. A Chinese family gave me food and dry clothes and when I told them I needed to go to South Korea, they connected me with a broker.
I moved south through China with a group of 12 other North Korean refugees. We were nearly to Southeast Asia when we stopped to spend the night in a small motel. There were two young boys with us. They were 9 and 10 and they were running around the motel yelling in Korean. The receptionist must have overheard them.
I was on the fourth floor when I heard police sirens outside. I raced to the window but it was bolted shut with metal bars. The Chinese police barged into the room and handcuffed all of us.
There was a teenage girl with us whose mom was waiting for her in South Korea. She wailed and pleaded with the Chinese police: “Please please, can I just go to be with my mom. She’s going to be so worried about me. I just need my mom.” She cried out over and over. As a mother I felt terrible for her. I just wanted to tell her that it would be alright. But we all knew that was a lie.
We were returned to North Korea.
The secret police demanded the women strip naked and they searched our genitals for anything we might have hidden, slapping and whipping us and calling us whores the entire time. My interrogator wanted me to confess to trying to defect to South Korea. I begged her to understand my situation but instead she grabbed my head and slammed it against a nail in the wall. I remember thinking as she took a fistful of my hair “Is this my fate? Is this how I’ll die? The tears mixed with the blood pouring out of the gash in my forehead.
I couldn’t let go of the thought of Hee-Mang growing up without a mom. I wanted to be a good mother, I wanted to give her everything she deserved. I knew I couldn’t die here.
Everyone in my group but me was sent to a political prison camp, even those two little boys. But because I refused to confess to trying to defect, I avoided that fate and was instead transferred to another prison where I was forced to work 18 hours a day in a gold mine to earn money for the regime.
They worked us so hard and fed us so little. But I had a daughter waiting for me. And now more than ever, I wanted her to live in freedom. Life in prison was so difficult that I considered killing myself many times. There is a saying in North Korea “Women are weak, but mothers are strong”. Being Hee-Mang’s mother gave me the strength to withstand the pain. For two years, I endured the back-breaking work hoping for the day I would reunite with Hee-Mang.
3 years after I was released I stood next to the Tumen again, staring north and dreaming of freedom. This time I had Hee-Mang with me. She was 4 years old now and I wanted her to have a happy, fulfilling life. I wanted her to see the world and learn about other cultures. There was nothing for her in North Korea except pain and misery. So I scooped her up from her bed and carried her out of the house.
I put her on my back, her head nestled on my shoulder, and waded into the river. I was almost to the middle of the river when her foot touched the water.
Hee-Mang woke up and whimpered “Oh it’s cold.” That’s all it took.
The border guards heard her and raced down to the water. I waded faster and faster with Hee-Mang’s little arms wrapped tightly around my neck. I lunged with each step trying desperately to get away. Then I felt a hand grab my hair. Hee-Mang started screaming as I tried to fight them off. But when they ripped her from me, I had no choice. I surrendered.
They dragged us back to shore and started kicking me and stomping on my head. And then they kicked my daughter. My precious, beautiful, Hee-Mang. An innocent 4-year old girl. She was sobbing in pain and her cries for mommy were muffled by the blood spilling out from her mouth.
I jumped on top of her to cover her little body from the soldiers’ boots. I pleaded with them to beat me instead. She didn’t know what was going on.
It wasn’t her fault. “It was me, I did this! Punish me, not her!” I screamed.
--
Last year I crossed the Tumen for the final time. I could see my breath as I shuffled across the ice on my hands and knees. I crawled up the other bank into China, bent back the barbed wire, and ran for the van that was waiting for me on the other side. From the van, I looked back at North Korea and wondered if I’d ever come back or see Hee-Mang again.
This time I connected with someone that knew a group helping North Korean refugees reach safety. The group turned out to be Liberty in North Korea and they helped me move quickly out of the border region and then we headed south. I couldn’t eat or sleep until we made it out of China because I was so scared of getting caught. Every time the bus stopped, I was certain that the police had found me again.
But soon I found myself crossing the border into Southeast Asia. When LiNK’s field staffer told me I was finally safe I was overwhelmed. I had endured so much to make it this far - hard labor, imprisonment, and torture. And even though I was overjoyed to make it to freedom, I was deeply saddened that Hee-Mang wasn’t with me.
I left her with my family because I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting caught again and sent to a political prison camp. I question that decision every day.
Today I owe it to my daughter to tell my story. Hee-Mang is like a lighthouse to me. She gives me light and a reason for why I need to keep living and working hard for freedom. I hold onto the dream that one day we will live together again.
Before I left last year I bought us matching watches. It’s just a cheap watch, but to me it has more value than any jewel. When I miss her, I wear it and I have hope that each minute that passes is one minute closer to the day I will see her again.
I wouldn’t be telling this story today without the support of people like you. Thank you for helping me escape and finally reach freedom. Your willingness to help North Koreans even though you do not know our names or see our faces, is unbelievable. Your generosity has changed my life and the lives of so many others.
But most of all, you give me hope that one day I will be able to return to the Tumen River and walk hand in hand with Hee-Mang.
And we will no longer have to be afraid. Because we will be together.
And we will be free.
Thank you.
A Realm of Possibilities: Catching Up with Eun Young and Min Gu
Eun Young and her husband Min Gu were unable to support themselves in North Korea through government-approved means, so they found other ways to survive. She worked in an underground market and he traded goods between North Korea and China. This life was difficult, but they continued on in order to provide their child (they asked us not to disclose their child’s gender) with the best future possible. However, they eventually came to realize that their situation would never improve if they stayed in North Korea and resolved to escape in pursuit of a better life.
Today, Eun Young and Min Gu are safely resettled in South Korea and are making lives for themselves in their new society. Our resettlement coordinator, Anna, recently met up with them to talk about their lives in North Korea, what they're doing now, and what their plans are for the future.
Anna: I saw a North Korean restaurant close by your apartment on the way.
Min Gu: The person who owns the restaurant is also from North Korea and she resettled seven years ago, but the food there is not as good as what you can have in North Korea. I asked them to slice and fry tofu thinner because that’s what it is supposed to look and taste like back home.
Eun Young: Those aren’t authentic. It’s not a matter of the thickness, but rather the quality of the tofu, because in North Korea two to three generations of a family will make tofu traditionally and it’s so flavorful and good. But, I still go to the restaurant instead of going to a bigger and nicer restaurant whenever I miss my hometown. They also have corn-noodle soup and stuffed squid, and every bite makes me feel nice and warm. Have you tried any of these foods?
Anna: My friend from North Korea and I once made rice-filled tofu, but I’ve never had corn-noodle soup. It sounds really good!
Min Gu: (Chuckles) It’s not like what you'd expect. People back in North Korea eat it to fill their stomachs. Why would you go to the North Korean restaurant when there are so many better choices? As I said, we go there because it brings back our memories of home.
Anna: Many North Korean people must live around here.
Min Gu: Yes, I’m guessing about 30% of the residents of this apartment complex are North Korean. Many disabled and elderly people who receive housing through the government live in the apartment complex, too.
Anna: By the way, what happened to your leg?
Min Gu: I got hurt at work. I was hospitalized, but I came home for today because you were coming.
Eun Young: Actually, you don’t go to hospital for a sprained ankle in North Korea. You just rest and apply a steamed towel to the ankle. Hospitals here have better technology and service, so he can be treated with the proper procedures.
Anna: When do you remove the bandage?
Min Gu: I now have to wear a cast. It’s terribly boring to spend all my time at the hospital. I’d rather work.
Eun Young: We enjoy working; it’s so rewarding. We both received our first paycheck in November. We sent $2,000 out of $3,000 to our child in North Korea.
Anna: Who is your child staying with?
Eun Young: With an aunt. We recently had a chance to talk to our child on the phone, I recorded the whole conversation and listen to it every single day.
[Recording of the conversation]
Child (age of 9): Mom?
Eun Young: My darling, I miss you, I really do. Mom and dad just sent your aunt $2,000. It’s 100 $20 bills. Okay? If there’s anything you want to eat or have, don’t hesitate to ask your aunt. Ask your aunt to buy you fruits if you want. Don’t cry, Mom and dad will bring you out next year. Please be a little more patient. Also, drink milk. You promise me to drink milk every day, okay?
Child: Mom, don’t worry. Stay healthy.
Eun Young: I’ll be never relieved until we meet. We’ll bring you out. I’ll hand the phone to your dad.
Min Gu: Stay healthy and eat well. Don’t tell other friends and teachers that you’ve talked to us. Always be careful.
Child: (Sobbing) I want to see you, dad. I miss you.
Anna: S/he seems mature.
Eun Young: S/he used to be like a baby sometimes and was very affectionate, but s/he has changed over past few months. My sister-in-law takes good care of my child, but it’s not the same to live with someone other than your immediate family.
Anna: When people first attempt to escape, you can’t predict how it’ll turn out. Is that why you couldn’t bring your child with you?
Min Gu: Yes, exactly. If two of us get caught crossing the river or in China, we can make excuses since I worked as a trader between the two countries. We would be imprisoned for a shorter period. But if we get caught with our child, there’s no explanation other than defecting from North Korea.
Eun Young: But after we succeeded, I regret bitterly not bringing our child. We want to bring him/her out some time next year when we’re more stable and have enough money to support him/her. I’m glad that it’s possible to hear his/her voice through the phone and to be able to mail each other occasionally. My child recently sent me a picture of him/herself in the clothes that I sent him/her for the holidays. It means a lot to him/her when I pick out a piece of clothing and send it instead of cash.
Anna: S/he looks good in yellow!
Eun Young: His/her favorite color is yellow, but I’m worried that people suspect s/he has relatives in South Korea because s/he owns better belongings than his/her friends. We need to bring him/her out as soon as possible. That’s why we work so hard to save money, there’s no time to waste.
Anna: What was your biggest challenge in South Korea?
Eun Young: I struggled to figure out what kinds of job were out there, what I’m good at, and how to make a wise decision when I’m newly resettled.
Min Gu: Nothing too hard, but I’m busy catching up with South Korea’s advanced technology and assimilating in a new society.
Anna: How often do you think about North Korea? What do you think about?
Eun Young: Yes, every second of my life I think about North Korea, especially the food shortage. I wish they could have enough food so they don’t starve to death. I wish people in North Korea could have this freedom that I have now. I have a better life here, but people in North Korea are dying because of starvation.
Min Gu: Even just before we left North Korea, a young-man who lived next door died of starvation although he served in the military for thirteen years. I saw no hope.
Anna: What was your biggest challenge in North Korea?
Min Gu: We had enough to feed our child, but I was always nervous living in an unstable society with fear of getting caught or being imprisoned for irrational reasons.
Eun Young: Day and night, I was always intimidated by someone knocking on the door. That sound was so terrifying because we bribed the head of a company so that my husband could run his own business instead of taking a labor-intensive job that was required by the government.Anna: What was your happiest memory in North Korea?
Min Gu: (Looking at his wife) Did we ever have a happy moment there? Maybe once a year? When were we happy?
Eun Young: (Smiles)
Anna: How did you get involved with your trade job?
Min Gu: My parents were from Japan and taught me about the concept of capitalism. Although it was a highly risky job, I did it to provide a better quality of life for my family. It was all for my child. I was also discriminated against and couldn’t pursue certain careers because my parents were from Japan.
Anna: It seems like you were more aware of the outside world since you had traveled to China many times?
Min Gu: I traveled to different provinces in North Korea for business, and I realized that some of these people have also awoken to the reality of the outside world. Young North Korean women in the bigger city talk and dress like South Korean women. I even saw a group of young people at a restaurant who tried to talk with a South Korean accent and had fun. Without government regulation, North Korean culture is going to be the same as here in the South. They secretly watch the same types of movies and dramas all the time.
Anna: How were you able to travel to many different provinces?
Min Gu: As long as I pay them enough, they’ll issue a travel permit right away. If you pay them in the morning, you’ll be able to obtain the permit in the afternoon even to go to China. Well, if you have certain amount of accumulated capital and a respectful family background, North Korea is not the worst country to live, but you never know when the government will take all of that away from you. Everyone has the same concern.
Anna: Aren’t you worried about the competitive nature of life in South Korea?
Eun Young: No, I’m not worried at all. The more we work, the more we earn. It’s very satisfying and no one will accuse or arrest me. I like that!
Anna: What is it like living in freedom?
Min Gu: It’s so relaxing and fascinating to live like an actual human being.
Eun Young: The effort and time I put into my work pays off. I really appreciate the sense of accomplishment. In North Korea, although you’re healthy and your physical condition is allowing you to work, you never get paid for your labor anywhere. We jokingly said to each other that at least one person per household should go to South Korea because they’re better off. It’s a shame.
Anna: What is something that you started to do in South Korea that you never did before?
Min Gu: Nothing yet.
Eun Young: I thought about it, but I haven’t been able to challenge myself to learn a new thing just yet. I wanted to learn how to use computers and take classes to be a nurse assistant. My husband wanted to get a heavy equipment driving license, but we both agree that it’s more important to save money first to bring our child out. We’ll achieve those goals little by little. I know if I try to achieve too much too fast, I could lose it all, so I’m not in a hurry.
Anna: What advice would you give to someone who just arrived in South Korea?
Min Gu: When you come to South Korea, live your life to the fullest. As long as you keep trying, anything is possible. Some people might have more resources to start with, but it’s important to appreciate what you have, not complain about what you don’t have.
Eun Young: Sometimes I feel shameful to look at myself sweeping the street all day and think ‘Why did I risk my life to escape to do this?’ and I’m so sad that I wasted half of my life in North Korea. The last 40 years of my life seem like a blank sheet of paper. If I was born in South Korea, I would have been able to receive a proper education and achieve more, however, it’s even more depressing when I think of people who are still in North Korea who never had a chance to live in freedom like an actual human being. I’m going to put all of these negative thoughts away, and work hard and do my best to provide a stable and healthy life for my family.
You can help other North Korean refugees escape China and resettle successfully by donating to our work. Donate here.
