complained to Kim Jong-il that the city was becoming a hotbed of
capitalism, and a brutal crackdown was ordered by Pyongyang. Many
traders were arrested and executed in people’s trials at Hyesan Airport.
I felt sick suddenly. I had never thought
that my mother and Min-ho
might be dead.
Mrs Ahn’s kindness had not changed. She said she would get one of the
smugglers to search for my family and, if he found them, arrange for Min-
ho to come over the river to meet me in Changbai. I said I would pay the
smuggler a fee.
It was dark when I had arrived, and dark when I left early the next
morning. I did not see Hyesan across the river, but I sensed its presence. I
smelt it. The
yontan smoke, and fresh-cut lumber. The unearthly stillness.
All I could
do now was return to Shenyang, go back to work, and wait.
On a freezing-cold Saturday morning a few weeks later, I was in my
apartment when Mrs Ahn called. She said
the smuggler had located my
family, and Min-ho had crossed the river. What she said next made me
almost scream in her ear. ‘He’s standing right here.’
There was a fumbling sound as she handed over the phone.
‘Hello?’ a voice said.
I held my breath.
Who is this?
‘Nuna, it’s me,’ the voice said, using the Korean word a boy uses for an
older sister. Something was wrong. It sounded nothing like Min-ho. I turned
to the window. I was picturing my brother in the reflection of the glass.
When I’d last seen him he was a boy of ten. Now he was fourteen. ‘Nuna,
trust me,’ the voice said. ‘Do you remember the time I sneaked over here in
the school vacation and couldn’t get back because the river flooded?’
Finally I exhaled.
It’s him. I began to giggle stupidly and cry at the same
time. I felt such a surge of love for him.
‘Your voice is so changed,’ was all I could manage to say.
‘So is yours.’
On the way to the train station I withdrew all my savings and converted it
into US dollars. It came to about $800. Some of this I would use to pay to
Mrs Ahn’s
smuggler as a fee; the rest I would give to my brother and
mother. I thought dollars would be handier for them to use as bribes in
North Korea. I took the train from Shenyang to Changchun, then the bus to
Changbai.
It was expensive, but much quicker.
On the fast, silent train, watching the hills slip by, my mind was filling
with elated thoughts of seeing Min-ho, when my phone rang again.
A man’s voice said: ‘My men have found your family.’ It was the
Chinese broker. That took the smile off my face.
I had almost forgotten about Plan B.
It seemed the most absurd bad luck that both channels had worked and I
would now have to pay for both.
‘When will you come to Changbai?’
‘Tomorrow,’ I lied.
When I arrived at the Ahns’ house, a young man was sitting at Mr Ahn’s
bedside. He stood up when he saw me.
Whenever I thought of Min-ho, I saw the smooth-faced kid brother with
the cute grin. This young man looked nothing like him. He was taller, and
fuller, but I recognized my mother’s face in his. He was staring at me with
intense curiosity. Then he gave that grin I remembered, as if to say
See? Not
a kid any more. To him, I appeared very strange. I was wearing tight jeans
and had brown highlights in my hair, a style truly alien in North Korea. We
studied each other across Mr Ahn’s living room, taking each other in, as if
across an expanse of years.
‘It’s really you,’ I said.
‘Yes.’ He spoke with a man’s voice.
Then we both laughed at the same time, came together, and I hugged his
face to mine. I could not believe I had my brother in my arms.
Before I’d even had a chance to ask about our mother a knock sounded
on the front door.
Mrs Ahn opened it. Four men were outside.
I knew the moment I saw
them that I had trouble.
They were dressed in black jackets and jeans. One of them had face
piercings. These were not locals from Changbai. They were from a gang.
‘Are you Soon-hyang?’ one of them called, spotting me behind Mrs Ahn.
He had a shaved head. ‘We’re the ones who found your family.’
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