- Blessing
The chirping swallows gracefully returned in an arc from their winter migration to the southern side of the river. They mostly congregated under the eaves of the central dwelling among the six compartments of the house located in Hyesan, North Korea.
“Look, it’s the same one that was here last year. Honey, come and check it out!” The husband insisted as his wife appeared in slippers. She smiled at the birds, believing that they bring a seed that yields rice, silk, and treasures to good-hearted individuals. The birds held even greater significance as the couple was still rejoicing in the arrival of their fourth son, who was just one month old.
The anecdote, which I heard many years later, never fails to entertain me and remains vivid in my memory. It’s of my parents who eagerly anticipated the promising future for their newborn son and rejoiced over the return of the swallows. My parents, Park Jooyoung (born on November 15, 1926) and Shim Youngsook (born on August 20, 1930) gifted me a life that surpasses any material wealth or achievements. Although I am but a humble student of life, I would like to share a few words about my parents, whose greatest blessing to me is the ability to gaze up at the sky, breathe, speak, and experience the wonders of being alive.
My father is originally from Yeongyang-myeon, Yeongyang County, in South Gyeongsang Province, South Korea. Like many others under the Japanese colonization era, he was born in a shabby thatched-roof house embraced with much sorrow of having lost one’s own nation. Such a respectful father, who is more precious to me than anyone or anything else in the world, did not have parents – at least not in my memory.
My father said that my grandfather passed away before he turned three years old, then my grandmother remarried into the Jang family.
At the tender age of nine, my father embarked on a journey of self-reliance. He took on various roles, working as an itinerant farmhand and babysitter to make ends meet. It was a time marked by deep national humiliation and disdain, that even the head of the nation would be confined in a foreign country’s legation and that Martyr Lee Jun begged in The Hague, for the independence of the country.
In pursuit of a brighter future beyond the confines of a small colonized peninsula, my father set his sights on Manchuria where he hoped to find new opportunities and possibilities in the vast expanse of land.
“In the Tumen river’ blue river, floating away an oarsman’s boat
The boat that carried my love on that past day…”
Just like the song, my father too walked the heartrending path of a wanderer. His gleam of hope was the belief that there is a way to survive in Manchuria. Should it be logging or farming, he was willing to work tirelessly.
I think that my father’s life would have been different if his parents had been alive and thus he had been maintaining contact with them, no matter how poor they were.
Throughout his life spanning over 80 years, my father carried a deep longing for his hometown, Yeongyang-myeon. Now, I find myself in South Korea, my father’s homeland, thanks to the unwavering love and determination of my parents, who have since returned to the earth.
With my parents, eldest brother, and second youngest sister laid to rest in North Korea, I enter my 52nd year of life. Once again, my thoughts turn to my father. The saying “like father, like son” resonates deeply within me, reminding me of the timeless wisdom passed down through generations.
My father was very affectionate by nature while occasionally flying into a rage. Korean men with the last name Park (박) are said to be affectionate and have a temper, while the women are clever and strong. Many North Korean female Party officers have the same last name, Park. Likewise, two of my older sisters are also smart and have strong personalities.
Like my father, I also possess a quick-tempered and direct personality. I believe that this trait stems from him, along with a strong sense of justice and a deep understanding of the importance of caring for the less fortunate. These values were among the greatest gifts endowed upon me by my parents.
After Korea was liberated from Japan on August 15, 1945, my father, who was living in a place called Wuchangxian, made the decision to remain in China instead of returning to Korea. At the age of 19, he joined the Communist Party and was appointed to oversee a small-scale agricultural cooperative. At that time, the Chinese government was actively promoting the establishment of cooperatives and driving their implementation.
My mother once told me how my father beat up three young trouble-makers. These men were hindering the unity and goals of the cooperative. My mother, who was standing between my father and the men, attempted to stop the fight. My father, in his rage, grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her aside, and then attacked the men. My mother’s wrist was severely bruised and I pity those men who were pounded by his fist. In a time dominated by an outdated feudal agricultural system, leadership within organizations or groups often relied on physical enforcement rather than persuasion or verbal discipline
My father’s life could have been very different if he had returned to South Korea within five years after the liberation. The second potential turning point for him was the Korean War.
North Koreans have been taught for over 70 years that the US army, along with its ally, the South Korean army, orchestrated the invasion of North Korea with the support of 16 other nations known as the UN forces. As a result, many individuals residing in China were drawn into the conflict due to the influence of the Kim Il Sung authorities. At the age of 19, my father also joined the war as part of the 1st battalion, 43rd brigade of the People’s Volunteer Army. In the initial stage of the War, Peng Dehuai, a four-star general, was called to command the Chinese People’s Liberation Army deployed for the Korean War.
Peng Dehuai recognized my father’s linguistic abilities as a bilingual Communist Party member and he kept my father by his side as a translator. Later on, Peng entrusted him with the leadership of the first battalion, which fell under his direct command.
Despite its name, the Korean War saw a larger participation from Chinese forces than Korean forces. The People’s Volunteer Army consisted of an estimated 100,000 soldiers, and my father was among them. It all started in October 1950 and during this time my father tasted the peaks of happiness, glory, disgrace and humiliation marking a significant turning point in his life. The war served as the second defining chapter in my father’s life.
As a son, it is only natural to reminisce about the love shared with my parents and yearn for the memories we created together. However, the realization that they are now forever voiceless leaves me stunned and overwhelmed, no matter how loudly I shout in desperation. My heart aches with profound sorrow, knowing that I couldn’t fulfill my responsibility to care for them to the best of my ability and witness their peaceful transition as their time on earth drew to a close. Sadly, their lives ended, burdened by the weight of waiting for their fourth son, myself, whose fate remained uncertain in prison. The regret I feel for not being able to provide them the solace and closure they deserve is immeasurable.
