Jia: A Novel of North Korea (22 page)

She smiled weakly. "It's okay. It's not serious, I'm just
old. Old people are slower to recover than you kids-I'll be
fine in a few days."

Glancing quickly at me, she said to Sangwon, "She's a
new face."

Sangwon answered delightedly, "She's my mom."

I didn't say anything, but smiled at her and at Sangwon
in turn.

Grandmother didn't ask anything more; she lay down
again and muttered to herself, "Helping each other is good.
Anyway, it's a long road to survive here."

As night fell outside, people returned to the cave one by
one. Some recognized Sangwon and said hello, others didn't
know him and didn't care. "Is it your first time?" they asked,
or, "Do you have some money to exchange for food?"

Quietly, Sangwon explained to me how the people in
the cave lived. When the sun came up, some would go to
town to work or to beg for food or money, while others
would climb into the mountains to look for food.

The cave seemed to be about a hundred meters deep, and it
stayed cold no matter how warm it was outside. To be safe, we
couldn't start a fire, so plastic bags kept us warm as we slept.

Every night, two people took turns acting as lookouts in
front of the cave. If some people staying in the cave didn't
show up for a night or two, it meant that they were arrested
on the outside, or had moved on to another place.

We were quiet and kept to ourselves. Some people
cooked together, others cooked separately. They had learned
to cook rice in a special way in order not to be caught by
the police; it was called "cooking rice underground." You
put uncooked rice in a plastic bag with water or snow, and
bury it, and then light a fire on the ground with branches
of bush clover. This was one of the strategies people had
learned in their guerilla training, so living in the mountains
wasn't difficult for them. We exchanged information about
how to survive. What the men had learned from their mandatory ten years of military duty in the service of the nation
was now extending our lives outside of it.

The night Sangwon and I arrived, both of us collapsed.
His leg swelled so that he couldn't walk. His fever spiked.
We slept for several days like dead people.

Three or four days must have passed. We were able to get
some food from the others, and at least the seclusion made
me feel safe.

Early one morning, Sangwon woke me up and said,
"Sister, I'll go to town today."

I looked around and saw that some people were already
preparing to go out. I thought I should stop him. "Not yet,
Sangwon, your leg needs more rest." I rubbed his calf. It
was still swollen, and bruises covered his thigh.

"No-see?" He rose to his feet and swiftly walked back
and forth, wobbling a little bit. His leg actually looked
much better. "I don't have any problem walking now,"
he insisted. "I know my body, I'm really much better. I'll
bring some food today-we also owe food to the ones who
shared with us."

I got halfway up and said, "I'll go with you."

He pushed me back down. "You need to rest another
day or two. Then we'll go to town together and I'll show
you around. I'm going to get some garlic in town-if you
chew three raw garlic cloves three times a day, your cold
will go away."

Sangwon followed others out of the cave, and I lay down
again and looked up at the ceiling. I felt relieved. If I hadn't
met that small boy, what would have happened to me?

In the afternoon, Grandmother asked me to go find
something we could eat in the mountains. She seemed to
have recovered from her injuries.

"Sangwon will bring some food," she said. "He's really
smart. In the town, he even has his regular fans who give
food or money only to him."

I was feeling much better, and I thought Sangwon would
be happy if I too found some vegetables or fruits to eat. I put
our belongings away in the corner and prepared to leave.

Following several women who remained, I crawled out
through the mouth of the cave and emerged into blinding
sunshine. I squinted instinctively, but the warmth felt so good
it seemed to flow through me. As my eyes adjusted, I felt the
cool air. I glanced up at the sky for a second and then back
at the mouth of the cave. From the outside you would never
notice the entrance; it was the perfect place for us to hide.

I turned and found a strange man staring at me, with several others behind him. There was a brief silence, and
then he said something I couldn't understand.

The women behind me in the cave cried out, "Run
away, run away! The Chinese police have come!"

The strangers rushed toward us. The man who had stared
at me tried to grab me. I pushed him and ran, jumping into
the nearest bushes. Resting for several days inside the cave
had made my legs weak, and I stumbled as I tried to pick up
speed. Screams echoed behind me. Sangwon always said I
should run without looking back, so I ran straight ahead. I
felt my chest expanding unbearably. I pulled back my head
to lessen the pressure on my chest, but I couldn't breathe. I
felt as if I was dying, yet I ran and ran. When I could run
no farther, I tumbled onto the ground.

Exhausted and out of breath, I grabbed on to some
weeds and firmly closed my eyes. If they find me, they will
beat me, I thought. If they try to stand me up, I won't move
at all. This place will be my grave. I felt gooseflesh all over
my back. I was too scared to move, even to turn my head.

I remembered the night my sister and I were walking
in the forest. We were startled and ran home, terrified that
something was following us. My grandfather had always
warned us not to be outside so late. He frightened us, telling us that ghosts might catch us from behind and have us
for dinner. In the years I had spent dancing for the festival
and working at the hotel, the memory of my youth in the
mountains had faded. Sometimes I felt it was another lifetime, or perhaps only a dream. But all at once the terror of
that night with my sister returned. I squeezed the weeds
with all my might, as I had my sister's hand.

I kept myself flat on the ground for many minutes, but
nothing happened. No yelling voices, no footsteps. After a while, I turned my head and felt a tranquil wind against my
cheek. Above me I saw the wide sky, the trees, the flying
leaves. The sun was blazing. I breathed slowly, watching
the sky. A swarm of large dragonflies flitted about. The
grass was silent, save for the pounding of my heart.

It took me hours to return the way I had run. I found footprints where I had trampled the grass, but they soon disappeared. I looked for familiar landmarks, but I hadn't been
outside the cave since my arrival. I was lost. It was still day,
but in the mountains nobody could guess when darkness
would fall. I hoped I wasn't too far from the cave.

I looked around me. The wind was chilly in the mountains, but I felt spring had arrived in earnest. Everywhere
the trees were green with new growth. I tried to walk in
a straight line, but I couldn't be sure I was going the right
way. I prayed I might run into someone returning from
town, but I encountered no one. I heard the sound of water
flowing in the distance.

Eventually, the sky turned completely dark, and I
couldn't see two paces in front of me. I wondered if I should
stop for the night. I stood still, afraid to move and afraid not
to move.

So many people escaped to China only to land in more
trouble than before, spending every moment in fear, worrying for their safety. The darkness of the mountains engulfed me. What ani I looking for in this strange place? I
wondered. Where are my friends?

Each question led to another. My strength and desire
were gone. I didn't have a destination. Other people had
goals. Some people, after getting to China, tried desperately to travel onward to other, safer countries. Others wanted to
return to North Korea with money and food. What were
my goals? Right now I was looking for the cave. But after
that? What do I seek here?

My whole life, I had been a runaway: I had slipped
away from my real family; I'd run away from myself until I
reached what seemed like the darkest corner of the Earth.

Before escaping to China, I had reasoned that class status was unimportant in China, that I would not be judged
here. I wouldn't have to feel the guilt of shouting the daily
slogans at the hotel before the Great Leader's picture, pretending to be an upright citizen. But now, despair overwhelmed me. I was not welcome here either. In China I
am just another kind of criminal, wandering around in the
darkness and running away in fear of being caught. Will
there ever be a happy outcome to my life? If I were to die
here, no one would know.

A lump of anger burst in my chest. My parents had broken the rules, and that made me a criminal too, but what
did they do that was so bad? I thought of the dancers at the
hotel. I was crazy with jealousy, imagining their happy faces, their happy stories with their families. Now I could be
honest with myself: I was madly envious. I was born unwelcome. Struggling like this seemed pointless. My birth was
unwelcome, but at least my death would be welcome-to
me, anyhow. My body lay crumpled on the grass; perhaps
this was my destiny. I felt like the seven-year-old girl who
was abandoned in the forest, hoping Uncle Shin would find
her. But the scared woman lying in the grass now didn't
have anything or anyone.

At that moment, I heard the sound of repeated whistling. It didn't sound like an animal. It was getting closer, and I stood up abruptly and whistled back. The whistling
stopped; only silence from the other side. Was it human?
Who was it? I crept down again and lay still in the grass. It
could be a friend, but it could be an enemy. Another whistle, closer this time. Looking in the direction of the sound,
I could see a black figure illuminated slightly by the stars.

I grabbed the long branch that I had used to beat a path.

The figure closed in on me, whistling again, then spoke
quietly. "Jia... Are you Jia?" It was a man's voice, a strange
voice, but he knew my name.

I swung the branch at him. I had nothing to lose anymore. "Right here! Who are you?"

He stopped. "Where are you?"

I stood up and approached him; his eyes gleamed in the
darkness. It was a man who had been staying in the cave, a
man who knew Sangwon. I remembered his face.

He was relieved. "Oh! You were here. You don't know
how Sangwon worried about you. Come on, I'll take you
back."

The Chinese police had captured several escapees outside the cave that day, most of them old people incapable
of running away. When Sangwon returned and saw that
I wasn't there, he became frightened. A woman who had
watched the struggle with the policemen reassured Sangwon that I wasn't one of those who were captured. Sangwon wanted to find me, but this man stopped him and said
he would look for me instead. He knew Sangwon couldn't
find me with his injured leg.

When we arrived back at the cave, Sangwon sprang to his
feet, staring at me with relief. I patted his bare head and
said, "I ran straight ahead, without looking back, the way you taught me." We sat in silence as he picked the weeds
from my clothes. There were tears in his eyes.

I decided not to dwell any further on the questions that
had arisen outside in the dark. Sangwon, too, had wandered
in darkness. Despite his determination and optimism, I
could see fear and despair in his eyes. He always told me we
would only be partners until we found a safe place, but he
was afraid of losing me and being alone. He needed someone he could lean on, too. He needed someone to give him
a reason to struggle, to keep hope alive. Just as dancing had
become my purpose after being rejected by my grandparents at the orphanage, I was what Sangwon needed now. I
didn't want to break his heart; I knew I couldn't disappoint
him. We were not merely partners for survival. We gave
each other hope.

Grandmother's place in the cave was empty. No sooner
had her wounds healed than she had fallen victim to an
even greater disaster.

here were regular visitors to the cave whom nobody
welcomed. They called themselves intermediaries;
they said they could help us start new lives, that they knew
all the good jobs in China. But no one trusted them. They
were only nice to the young women; when they came to
the cave, they looked around for new faces. After Sangwon
and I had been there for a week, three of them showed up.

"How's everything?" one asked.

They lounged about the cave, checking each person's
face to see who was new. People just sat quietly or nodded their heads to the uninvited guests. The only reason
they came was to persuade young women to go to town
with them; women and children could get more food in
town than a man could. If the men in the cave told them a
woman didn't want to go with them, the strangers couldn't force her, but if she wanted to leave with them, nobody
could stop her. We all knew they could report us to the
police anytime they wished.