Yoon Ha's Story: Part 1 - Life in North Korea
Yoon Ha resettled to South Korea through LiNK’s network about a year ago. She recently shared her story with us. This is part one of three. Continue to part two.
When I was asked, “How was your life in North Korea?” for the first time, I just started crying because my life there was so hard. It was so hard.
When I was a little kid my mom left me, my younger sister, and my dad, because of our financial struggles. I felt so abandoned and unloved.
And even though I was young, I had to start working to contribute to my family’s finances. My sister and I would forage for plants in the mountains and riversides. We carried the herbs, roots, and pinecones on our backs, walking for three hours to get to the marketplace. We sold our stuff so we could get corn powder to eat. And then we would walk the three hours back to our house. It was very, very hard.
In my late teens my father passed away. I was devastated. After a few years of living with relatives, my sister and I moved back to live with our mom again. But we were still very poor. People would make fun of us for being so poor and not having a father around. I felt a lot of shame about my family and living situation.
When I was 22, my mom asked me to start living with a man much older than me to lessen the financial burden on my family. I didn’t like living with him at all.
I decided to leave my hometown to find a better life somewhere else. I walked for a few days to get to Hamhung, one of the biggest cities in North Korea, hoping I could find work there.
In the city, I did a lot of things to make money. I would sell gas lighters and secondhand vinyl. I had to do it secretly because it was illegal. And it never paid well--just enough to buy food. I was staying at homes, cheap inns, empty houses, and even sleeping on the streets and next to graves when I had to. Sometimes I got beaten by people from the city because they didn’t like that I was making money but wasn’t from there.
I worked there for many months, but I couldn’t save any money so I decided to go back to my mom’s place. My mom and my sister were still struggling, and having me back was a burden to them. So I left home again and walked to Pyongyang to find work. In North Korea you need a special permit to move to different cities, and I didn’t have one. I got caught and sent to jail for 10 days.
After I was released, I started walking to other cities again to find work. I knew I might get caught by the police again, but I couldn’t go home. I walked a lot. Walking was the only way I could travel to where I needed to go.
I made it to another town and found work crushing ore to extract gold. The work was illegal and we would do it secretly in people’s houses. In one of these houses, I got beat up and got kicked out. I didn’t do anything wrong; they just didn’t want to pay me. Even after that incident I continued to do the same work in other houses. For the first time in my life, I had made a decent amount of money--enough to buy 100 kg of corn.
I was so happy. I would be able to bring some money to my mom and sister so we could eat food for a while. I also missed my family, so I started heading home.
At a bus station on the way home, a woman and her daughters asked me to get water for them. They stole all of my money and ran away.
I couldn’t handle all the bad things that kept happening to me. It felt like my life was hopeless and pathetic. I went to a river near the bus station to commit suicide. But right when I was about to jump into the river, all of sudden a thought came over me.
“Why do I have to die? Why? I've not done anything wrong. I'm still only in my early 20s.” I made the decision to live and make the better life I wanted.
Instead of going home, I started walking again. I just kept going north. Even though I was so hungry, the hope for a better life drove me to keep walking.
After walking for days, I somehow arrived in Hyesan, a city on the border with China. I saw many people like me, who had been wandering around in search of food and work. I had travelled to many different parts of North Korea, and came to the conclusion that life was difficult everywhere in my country.
A couple in their 30s or 40s approached me and asked how old I was. I told them my age, 23. They asked if I wanted to go to China. They said I could have a better life there.
“A better life? Yeah, I would do anything to have a better life.”
So I decided to go to China with them. I was so focused on having a better life; I didn’t ask many questions. A few days later, in the darkness of night, we crossed the river into China.
Continue reading with part two.
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.
