The
distance between the North Korean border town of Hyesan and South
Korea’s capital Seoul is 440 kilometers (273 mi) as the crow flies. It
took Park Kun-ha five years to complete the journey.
His
way turned out not only to be a lot longer but tortuous, taking him
through the jungle of large Chinese cities, Southeast Asian rain
forests, labor camps, and even prison. It was a modern odyssey during
which he became the victim of crime and a thief himself, as well as rag
collector, beggar, harvest hand and tile carrier. He made it to his
destination in the end – only to discover that he wasn’t really welcome.
Park,
a native of North Korea now living in Seoul, is one of 25,000 refugees
who have managed the perilous escape from the Communist country isolated
from the rest of the world to seek a new life in the south.
"The
trip of death" is what refugees like Park call the risky North-South
trek. Nobody knows how many give up along the way, are arrested by North
Korean officials, or are arrested in China and kicked out. Only the
ones who actually make it know how dangerous the journey is. Park left
in June 2000 and got to Seoul in June 2005.
The
easiest part was fleeing across the border to China on foot, the
50-year-old man says. He was a customs inspector at the border, so it
was relatively easy to find a moment when he could wade across the Amrok
River unobserved. But he had to make sure not to be discovered by
Chinese officials because they send North Koreans right back where they
came from where, if they’re lucky, they end up in a labor camp and if
they’re not they are executed as traitors.
Park
made it through China. In the border region he was helped by members of
the Korean-Chinese ethnic group known as Joseonjok. During the day, he
slept in hideouts, and at night he walked as far away from the border as
he could get. In the fall he got work as a harvest hand. In the
southern part of China, he worked for several years on University of
Yunnan construction sites before continuing further south.
In
Laos, all his savings were stolen off him – which meant he had to beg
to survive, sleep rough. Desperate, he stole a fishing boat one night
and rowed across the Mekong River to Thailand. He begged his way to
Bangkok where the South Korean embassy organized accommodation for him,
and after nearly another year of waiting he was finally flown to Seoul.
Park’s
“trip of death” lasted a little bit longer than usual: most last
between ten months to a year, following the same route via China and
Southeast Asian countries although some opt to go via Russia or the Gobi
Desert in Mongolia. But whichever way they travel, the long flight is
full of risk, all the way.
There
is the constant fear of being denounced to authorities. Women
particularly all too often become victims of sexual abuse. Yet from 2006
to 2012, between 2,000 and 3,000 North Koreans made it to South Korea
every year. Last year, however, the North Koreans tightened controls
along the border with China, thus reducing the flow of refugees seeking a
new home in South Korea to 1,500.
Disinterest and prejudice
Although
the refugees seek a new home, that’s not necessarily what they find.
What Park found when he finally reached the land of his dreams –
disinterest and prejudice – shocked him deeply. He doesn’t know which
was worse. "They are completely indifferent," he says about South
Koreans. "They live their own lives, they couldn’t care less about the
North." He wasn’t expecting that. He thought people would be interested
in him, as someone who put his life on the line to come South.
The
first job Park found in South Korea was as an assistant janitor. After a
few days, his boss expressed relief that his new helper turned out not
to be as “aggressive” as he’d feared. Many South Koreans take their lead
from the behavior of North Korean leaders and assume that all North
Koreans are bellicose – a prejudice that is only encouraged by the fact
that, when speaking, North Koreans have accents they perceive as hard.
In
general, North Korean refugees don’t enjoy much of a good reputation in
the South. Most of them find menial jobs – they can forget whatever it
was they learned in the North (Park had studied biology). Twelve percent
are unemployed (in 2012, the unemployment rate in South Korea was an
estimated 3.8%). According to a study, one in ten of the North Korean
refugees has had trouble with the law in South Korea. One in nine female
refugees in South Korea has been sexually harassed or raped, and a
third are said to have prostituted themselves at least once. Sixty
percent of all new arrivals prefer not to reveal their origins.
There is a very popular dating reality show on Korean TV called SBS Jjak.
One episode that aired about a year and half ago threw a revealing
light on the way North Korean refugees are perceived by South Koreans. A
pretty young woman had become the absolute favorite of the men on the
show. In tears, she confided that she’d left something important out of
her biography: her North Korean past. All the men then lost interest in
her, except for a poor farmer’s son.
Park
– despite money he received when he arrived, and a generous state
subsidy to help him integrate into South Korean society that works out
to the equivalent of nearly 30,000 euros – says he still doesn’t feel
completely accepted in his new homeland. Yes, he acknowledges, "I can
say what I want and make my own decisions." But he hasn’t yet been able
to forge deeper links within South Korean society.
Five years ago, together with some other North Korean refugees, he formed NK Intellectual Solidarity
(NKIS), which helps North Koreans integrate. The NKIS also puts
relevant information about living in the South together for North
Koreans who are thinking of making the “trip of death” and smuggles the
USB sticks into North Korea.
Park
Kun-ha has also found great personal happiness in South Korea – he’s
remarried. Like him, his new wife is a refugee from the North.
* *
Published on Suddeutsche Zeitung by Reymer Kluver, May 16, 2013