- My Family
It has been four years since I entered South Korea after a life-or-death struggle across the Aprok River, leaving my home behind. These past four years have been a new and happy chapter in my life.
As winter sets in, the weather turns bone-chillingly cold, and the biting wind seems to cut through to the bone. The world today has been transformed into a serene expanse of white, thanks to the snowfall that began at dawn. It’s during these snowy seasons that my thoughts invariably turn to my hometown, which now feels closer yet further away than ever before. I find myself missing my beloved parents, who have since passed away, and my siblings, who are surely still battling to make a living.
My hometown, nestled in Ryanggang Province, sits atop the Korean peninsula, in the shadow of the imposing Mount Paektu. Snow here tends to disappear in the warmth of daylight. But in my hometown, the ground rarely peeks through the snow once it starts falling; it accumulates steadily, covering everything in sight. Cars gingerly navigate the snow-covered roads, and the dirt roads in the villages are transformed into white, pristine pathways.
I was born in August 1965 as the fourth daughter among my parents’ seven children. My father, the eldest of five sons and a daughter in the Kim family of Kumsan, had spent most of his life in Pyongyang with his extended family until he was transferred to Ryanggang Province on orders from the Central Committee of the Workers’ Party of Korea. I’ve heard stories that my grandparents stayed up late into the night, worried about their eldest son, who was being dispatched to this cold and remote province.
Pyongyang, with its scenic beauty and temperate climate, sees flowers bloom in abundance in April, and people flock to places like Taesong Fortress (대성산성) and Moran Hill (모란봉) for holiday outings. Contrastingly, snow still lingers in Ryanggang Province during that same time of year. In 1960, when the climate was even colder, temperatures stayed below freezing well into May, with occasional flurries of snow. Historically, it was considered a place of exile where individuals convicted of treason or those who had defected to South Korea were sent.
However, my father was dispatched to this remote province as part of a cadre, entrusted with the task of developing the local economy, following the directives of Kim Il Sung. Three specialists, each representing key sectors, were assigned to each province across the country. They formed the dedicated shock brigades of the Workers’ Party of Korea, fully committed to the Party’s mission. In Ryanggang Province, three professionals, specializing in chemistry, textiles, and food industries, were selected to lead the way.
My father, a chemist who had graduated from Pyongyang University of Light Industry, previously worked as the Manager of Pyongyang Daily Necessities Factory. Although he harbored regrets about relocating his young family to this distant and somber province, he knew he had to accept the Party’s orders without hesitation. He was a faithful and impassioned Party member who would go to great lengths to fulfill his duties. It was said that he never voiced a word of complaint about the transfer.
In Ryanggang Province, there were individuals known as the Number 49 listees, labeled as “impure elements” for their alleged wrongdoings or defections to South Korea during the Korean War. My mother later shared that it was challenging to be among those who didn’t know that my father was a cadre, assuming that our family had been deported from Pyongyang.
When my family left Pyongyang, my eldest sister was seven, the second oldest was five, and the third sister was a mere three years old. My mother often reminisced about how challenging it was to move from the warm and hospitable city of Pyongyang to this cold and underdeveloped province. The region’s coarse accent and rugged lifestyle took some getting used to. During my mother’s postnatal period, my father’s frequent work trips left her with inadequate care. She resumed household chores and tending to the three young children only a week after giving birth, which eventually took a toll on her health. It was only when my grandparents traveled from Pyongyang to see their eldest grandson that my mother received proper care and rest. They took her and the newborn baby back to Pyongyang, nursing them for an entire year.
