Category: Sangil’s Life

4. A monthly wage of 60 Won is more than sufficient

My family’s meager living conditions improved year by year. My oldest brother and I have a 17-year age gap. When I was born, my oldest and second-oldest brothers were already in the military, so I have few memories of them from my childhood. I do recall a bit about my older sister and immediate older brother. It gradually became a rare sight to see an emaciated 12-year-old traveling tens of kilometers, carrying a potato bag as heavy as his own weight.

As they say, ‘fewer mouths to feed relieve poverty,’ and my siblings’ enlistment lightened my parents’ burden.

When I was young, my father worked at the Uiyon Timber-processing Factory (위연제재공장). Decades-old large trees from the forest near Rimyongsu Falls on Mount Paektu (백두산 리명수폭포) were cut down and transported down the Aprok River. Upon arrival, the logs were processed at the factory in Kangan-dong (강안동) based on specific requirements. Typically, they were transformed into various-sized planks for delivery to construction sites.

The sawdust produced was used not only for industrial purposes but also for household consumption, primarily as an ingredient for alcohol production. Furthermore, it served as a key component in the manufacturing of construction materials, including compressed plywood (목삭판) and single boards (단판).

While not as massive as the Hyesan Youth Mine (혜산청년광산), a level-one enterprise employing over 5,000 workers, the Uiyon Timber-processing Factory was classified as a level-two enterprise with a workforce of 2,000-3,000 employees. My father was featured multiple times in the factory’s and the provincial newspaper, the Ryanggang Daily (량강일보), for his selfless dedication and unwavering endurance. He earned the favorable nickname of the “Father of Communism (공산주의의 아바이)” for his willingness to assist less fortunate neighbors.

A factory, led by the factory manager (지배인) and the party secretary (당비서), consists of several subunits (직장), each of which is overseen by a unit manager (직장장) and a party secretary (부문당비서). Despite the fact that my father was a highly skilled engineer, he earned a wage equivalent to that of a unit manager responsible for hundreds of workers.

At the end of each month, my mother and the children eagerly awaited my father’s wage. Similar to a long purchase receipt you’d receive at a store in South Korea, the accountant would generate a hand-written payslip. This pay slip was then enclosed in an envelope, along with the corresponding amount of money, and handed to each worker. I vividly remember that my father received 45-50 Won on several occasions, but typically, he earned 60 Won. In those days, this was considered a decent sum of money, in contrast to the present when one kilogram of rice costs between 5,000 – 6,000 Won.

In my household, food rationing occurred on the 3rd and 18th of each month. The fee for the rations allotted to our large family was a mere 3 Wons and 80 Jeon. These rations included non-glutinous rice, wheat or barley, beans, and potatoes. Additional items like bean paste and soy sauce, available at the grocery store, were also quite affordable. Even meat, eggs, and fruit provided on national holidays were within reach. Similarly, notebooks, pencils, erasers, compasses, and protractors came at a low cost.

In addition, my mother operated a snack bar at her mother’s place near the Yonpoong bridge (연풍다리). She had a remarkable ability to create delicious dishes even with limited ingredients, and her culinary skills truly shone. The restaurant’s signature dish was potato starch noodles (농마국수), with the option of accompanying dishes such as meat, dried pollack, and octopus. They also served beverages like rice wine (막걸리) and beer. After school, we would head straight to our grandmother’s restaurant, where we enjoyed most of our meals. Eating at the restaurant without incurring extra expenses significantly improved the family’s livelihood.

During my time in middle school, my morning routine became increasingly hectic as our livestock population grew. Just a few years prior, we only had 1-2 puppies, but now we had 7-8 dogs. The number of rabbits had multiplied from 5-10 to 50-80. Additionally, we owned five or more goats and sheep, along with 2-3 pigs. My mother’s responsibility was obviously the biggest, but I feel that I bore the most responsibility among the children.

Furthermore, as my older brothers and sisters embarked on their 10-year-long military service, I naturally found myself shouldering the entire burden. My younger brother, now oddly 190cm tall and looks more mature than I am, was fragile and tiny back then with slender fingers. All the toil and hard work fell on my shoulders.

Rising at 4 am, I took the goats and sheep out of the stable behind our house and guided them to the hill 500m away.  

Each goat was tied to a 20-30 meter-long rope with an iron stake at the end. My duty was to find an appropriate spot for each animal and insert their corresponding thumb-thick iron stake into the ground. Herbivores are generally reluctant to graze before sunrise or during the dewy dawn, as they prefer to chew their cud during this time. They also tend to avoid extensive feeding under the harsh, glaring sun, opting instead to rest in the shade. It’s during the approach of sunset that they become more diligent in their grazing.

My journey home from the pastureland was far from leisurely. I would spend a good 30 minutes preparing food for the rabbits. Years of experience in raising them taught me the importance of providing them with a variety of plants and doing so regularly. If they were allowed to feed exclusively on a favored plant like dandelions or clovers for an extended period, they would grow accustomed to it and neglect other grasses when their diet changed. Another crucial lesson was to offer food in small portions and frequently. During the rainy season, dewy or moistened grass could prove deadly to tens of rabbits at once. To prevent this, I would shake off the water and dry the grass in the shady attic before providing it to them. 

Keeping the rabbit cage clean and dry was essential. Fumigation at least once a week was crucial. While disinfectant powder worked, the most effective method was using an old shoe sole. I would ignite the worn-out rubber shoe sole and place it inside the cage, allowing the smoke to disinfect the enclosure. This process took about three hours, and by around 7 am, I was preparing for school.

Typically, my mother was responsible for preparing the porridge for our pigs and dogs, although there were times when my brother and I delivered it if she was away at work. These animals primarily subsisted on the food waste from the restaurant run by my mother and grandmother. On my way back home from school, I would make a quick stop at the restaurant to collect a 10 kg bucket of food waste. The restaurant was located just a 10-15 minute walk from our house. 

A few years later, my mother secured a new job at Songbong Noodles (송봉국수집), a state-run restaurant. This renowned establishment, second only to Hyesan Noodles (혜산면옥) in the city, was housed in a tile-roofed building reminiscent of the Chosun dynasty style. The restaurant, staffed by dozens of chefs and servers, remained bustling from its opening at 12 pm until closing at 10 pm.

In no time, my mother took charge of the kitchen, becoming the second-in-command at the restaurant. Even then, she continued to work as a server, as many diners and regulars specifically requested her presence. She served as the head chef, a server, and also assisted with keeping the restaurant’s ledger in order.

All transactions, both in the present and in the past, take place in cash in North Korea. On the monthly payday, workers receive an envelope containing a slip that is labeled as the ‘Wage Deduction Table (로임공제표).’ These days, I believe that less than 10-20 percent of North Korean workers receive a wage ranging between 2000-3000 Won. As for the remaining 80% of the population, they often receive nothing, making the said monthly wage, although insufficient to purchase 1kg of rice, somewhat appreciated. In fact, it has become quite common to receive a negative payslip. A negative payslip starting at 3,000 won, would look like this:

I would dare say that my father’s monthly wage of 60 Won at that time is worth more than 6 million Won today. My father wasn’t a well-known entrepreneur who amassed a fortune, but I hold immense respect and deep affection for him. He was the backbone of our family, and his hard-earned 60 Won provided the driving force for our household. What’s more, I have a special fondness for him because he hails from South Gyeongsang province in South Korea.

2. Flowery Hill (꽃동지)

Yonpung-dong (연풍동), located in the Uiyon District (위연지구) of Hyesan, is made up of 50 Bans, which are groups of households. Each Ban typically consists of 50-60 households, with each household having between four to five members. It’s worth noting that during the 1960s-1970s, when I was growing up, the average family size was larger, with most families having seven to eight members.

Yonpung-dong is situated in the northernmost part of Hyesan, with Bans numbers 46-49 located at the tip of the north. The community comprises over 130 households, including laborers, farmers, office workers, soldiers, and university students. Notably, these villages are known to be hotspots for smuggling activities.

During Kim Il’s rule, North Korea implemented various economic plans, spanning three years, five years, or even eight years, achieving significant or partial success. As a result, North Korea outperformed its Southern counterpart in the 1960s and 1970s in terms of higher agricultural, steel, cement, textile production, and construction.

The South Korean singer Sung Jin’s song, “Barley Hump” (보릿고개, Period of Spring Poverty), was created 25 years ago in South Korea during a time when its people were grappling with food shortages. The song remains popular and beloved by many. It is evident that South Koreans must have endured a more severe hardship during that period than their North Korean counterparts.

After the death of Kim Il Sung on July 8, 1994, the North Korean economy took a nosedive. In the Flowery Hill neighborhood of Yonpung-dong, out of approximately 130 households, nearly all households, with the exception of the immobile elderly ones, were engaged in smuggling activities.

In my opinion, the illegal trading activities that we, the villagers of Flowery Hill, conducted, while admittedly illegal, played a significant role in supporting not only our own community but also the entire North Korea. My village deserves recognition for offering a glimmer of hope to the starving people during a nationwide famine, even as we endured hardships such as crossing the Aprok River during winter while getting our thighs cut by sharp pieces of ice.

During my entry investigation, South Korean officials informed me that the majority of North Koreans who had come to South Korea were from Yonpung-dong, Hyesan-si. Within Yonpung-dong, Flowery Hill residents make up the largest group. It is safe to say that almost every other household has resettled in South Korea. Some households have one, two, or three family members in South Korea, while others have relocated as entire families.

3. Azalea (진달래)

The variety of Azalea found in North Korea is rare in South Korea. While I often come across something similar during my workout trail in the park or on a hill, I’ve come to realize that they are a different type called “choljuk” (철쭉). Many people find it challenging to distinguish between the two – azaleas and choljuk. Both have pale pink petals of similar size, so my usual method for distinguishing them is by comparing their stems and leaves. Nevertheless, I still feel a sense of excitement and amusement each time I encounter these choljuk plants in South Korea, reminiscent of the thrill I experienced in North Korea when I first laid eyes on the blooming heralds of spring.

I’m not certain when my village received the name Flowery Hill, but as far back as I can remember, it has been known by that name. I assume it was given this name long before the establishment of North Korea. I eagerly anticipate the day when I can return to my hometown. When that day comes, I plan to gather an armful of South Korean choljuk, which resembles North Korea’s Azaleas, and offer them to my long-missed friends and family in Flowery Hill. May this cherished name be carried forward for generations to come, even in the distant future!

After Kim Il Sung’s death, the mountains saw extensive deforestation, but until the 1980s, bears, boars, and roe deer were relatively common in the area. There were even individuals during my childhood who claimed to have spotted tigers.

It is said that the tigers living in Paeku’s dense forest vanished without a trace as a consequence of Kim Il Sung’s memorial project, which spanned across Paektu mountain. During the construction of memorial sites honoring Kim Il Sung’s anti-Japanese accomplishments, tens to hundreds of tons of granite stones were used to create structures and sculptures deep within the forest. The noise and explosions from this construction might have easily driven the territorial tigers into the forests of China’s Erdaobaihe region or towards Vladivostok in Russia.

My village, Flowery Hill, was a picture-perfect place when these wild animals still roamed its surroundings. Despite the high altitude and cold climate, fruit trees were a rare sight, but a variety of harmonious flowers would bloom in succession from spring to summer.

Dandelions, forsythia, pasque flowers, and even the white blossoms of clover, which served as the main food for rabbits, created a spectacular display of nature. Among them all, the Azalea was the most prolific, turning the village into a sea of flowers. Immersed in the gentle pink fragrance of azalea, with my eyes closed, I could temporarily escape the worries of life. My heart would race with hope for a brighter tomorrow. When I was a child, my friends and I used to hike up the hill in small groups, picking azalea petals. On some occasions, we would collect as much as 1 or 2 kilograms of them.

We could have used those petals to make wine, but that’s not what we did. Some kids simply chewed and ate them, while others, from relatively well-off households, would sprinkle sugar on top and let them ripen for a day or two. By then, the petals would transform into a thick, sweet and tangy treat that tasted somewhat like wine. As a child, I cherished this experience.

Decades later, I had the opportunity to visit my Korean-Chinese friend, Gijong Kim, in Jilin, China, during a business (smuggling) trip. He suggested a mountain hike, and I eagerly joined him. I was struck by the abundance of food in this prosperous country. The lunch our Chinese friend prepared turned out to be a lavish feast, featuring beef, pork, fish, nuts, beer, and Chinese wine, all stowed in his car. During our hike, we gathered azalea petals while climbing up and down the hills, amassing around 4-5 kilograms of them. He kindly offered to pay me 50 RMB for my efforts, but I insisted on refusing it, as receiving payment from a friend seemed unnecessary. Furthermore, he was collecting the petals for personal use, specifically for making wine.

Unable to pay me with cash, he eventually gifted me five cartons of cigarettes, my favorite, as I departed to the other side (with one carton costing 10 RMB). Over a decade has passed, and I have reconnected with several people I met and parted ways with during our smuggling days. We’ve reminisced about the old times and found solace in sharing our stories. My friend Kijong is not among them. Although it’s known that he came to South Korea, I remain unaware of his current whereabouts.

The beloved hill, once covered with flourishing azalea, has now become almost barren. The once towering and thick larches and nut pines, reaching heights of 20-30 meters, are no longer to be found, not even a single one.

Flowery Hill has lost all traces of its former beauty. Dandelions and plantain flowers (길장구), which used to line the paths and hills so beautifully, were once a source of delight but are now nowhere to be seen. They have become mere sources of sustenance, pulled out as soon as they sprout and grow even slightly. Blowing dandelion seeds now exists solely in distant childhood memories.