The Girl with Seven Names: a north Korean Defector’s Story

Over the ice
The Yalu River in front of our house was just eleven yards wide and not
deep – waist height for an adult in the middle. Before people started fleeing
North Korea during the famine, the border wasn’t strictly controlled. By my
late teens, however, it had become heavily guarded. River life had all but
disappeared. Any activity along the bank invited intense suspicion. The kids
now played elsewhere. Border guards had started closely watching the
women who climbed down the bank to fetch water and wash clothes, in
case they were receiving contraband or waiting for a moment to cross. By
that time the women who actually were trading had come to discreet
understandings with the guards, and were paying them off. The river ran
more quietly than before, as if it were depressed by its role as a prison
fence.
Not long after we had moved to the river, the guard whose beat it was
along the fifty yards outside our house came to befriend us. He would
regularly drop by for a chat and my mother would give him something to
eat and drink. His name was Ri Chang-ho. He was six years older than me,
tall, and very handsome, like the soldier in the propaganda posters. In fact
most of the border guards were good-looking, chosen to represent our
country to the foreigners on the Chinese side. Their songbun had to be from
the loyal class. These young men were privileged, but they were often
lonely and far from home.
Chang-ho was good-natured. Military duty didn’t suit him. He didn’t like
being ordered about, and was frequently assigned menial duties as
punishment for something or other. When they were off duty, border guards
had to remain on base, but he would slip out, and often came to our house.
He was charming, but I sometimes found him a little simple. He once told

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me that as part of his training, he had been shown a documentary film about
weaponry.
‘We have the most amazing weapons, Min-young.’ His voice was
excited, like a little boy’s. ‘We can beat South Korea. And the Yankees. I
can’t wait till we’re at war. It’ll be over in no time.’
I knew that I could trust Chang-ho. On a cold night in spring the previous
year, when I was sixteen, I was returning home around midnight from a
friend’s house. It was late for a girl to be out alone. As I approached my
house, I made out his silhouette sitting at the side of the road.
‘What are you doing there?’ I was surprised.
‘I’ve been waiting,’ he said.
‘What for?’
‘For you. I was worried.’
He was like the big brother I never had. I was too naive to recognize his
interest in me. He took a letter from his coat and asked me to deliver it to
his mother in Hamhung. He knew I was about to make a train journey there
to visit Aunt Pretty.
‘Don’t open it,’ he said, with an odd, private smile.
In Hamhung, I found the address and delivered the letter to his mother,
and she read it in front of me. She, too, gave me an odd smile.
‘Do you know what it says?’ she asked.
‘He said it was private.’
She seemed to find this amusing, and treated me very affectionately,
giving me snacks and juice bought from a dollar store. She was an attractive
woman. I could see where Chang-ho got his looks.
When I got back to Hyesan Chang-ho told me with a broad smile what
he’d written in the letter – ‘Mother, I wish to marry this girl so please treat
her well.’
I had not seen that coming. I glared at him in shock, and his face fell.
‘I’m too young to marry,’ I said flatly, taking a step back from him.
I felt immediately sorry for him. It was a declaration of love I could have
handled a lot more sensitively. To his great credit, he took the rebuff in his
stride, which made me like him even more. We remained friends, and he
continued dropping by the house.

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He was still patrolling the border the following year as I plotted my sneak
visit to China. By now, my school friend had given up waiting for me to
convince my mother, and had gone across on her own. This had
disappointed me, but it made me more determined than ever to go, even if it
meant going alone. The more I thought about it, the more daring my plan
became. Why slip across just for a few hours? Why not visit my father’s
relatives in Shenyang? It was a longer journey, but perhaps Mr Ahn or Mr
Chang would take me. I’d still be back home within four or five days. I
decided I’d ask Mr Ahn. He was friendlier than Mr Chang.
I started preparing the way. I told Min-ho that if I didn’t come home one
evening it was because I had crossed the border to visit Mr Ahn and his
wife. We could see their small house among the trees in Changbai from our
riverbank. Min-ho went quiet when I said this. I could see he wasn’t happy
with the idea. He was ten years old now, almost old enough to feel
protective of me.
The date I chose was in the second week of December. I was resolved to
leave after dinner. There was little I could take. I had no Chinese currency,
and I could hardly let my mother see me leave the house with a bag of spare
clothes.
That evening my mother was cooking an unusually elaborate meal.
‘Why’ve you made so much food?’ I said.
She had prepared much more than we normally ate. The kitchen was
warm and smelled wonderful, of spicy stew and marinated pan-fried meat.
She had even made bread in the steam pot. Her back was towards me as she
stirred the pan.
‘I just want to give you both a nice meal,’ she said simply.
My heart missed a beat. I don’t think she’d guessed what I was about to
do, yet it felt like a farewell supper. That evening I ate as much as I could.
After the bowls were cleared, I put on my coat, as if it had just occurred to
me to go out.
‘Where are you going at this time?’ she asked.
‘Just to a friend’s house,’ I said, without looking at her. ‘I’ll be back in a
few hours.’
She put on her own coat and walked me out to the front gate holding a
kerosene lamp.

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‘Don’t stay out long. Come home quickly.’
She smiled at me.
Over the years to come, I could never shake the memory of that moment
and the look on her face in the glow of the lamp. I saw love in her eyes. Her
face showed complete trust in me.
I turned away guiltily.
I heard the gate clang shut behind me. This is it. My heart began to
pound. It was a clear night, and so cold the air burned my nose and turned
my breath to plumes of vapour. I tightened my scarf, and zipped my padded
coat up to my chin. I stood still for a moment and listened. Dead silence.
Not even a breeze to stir the trees. There was no one about. I looked up, and
the vault of the sky was lit with stars.
I began to walk. My footsteps seemed very loud. Eventually, there, about
ten yards ahead, I could make out the figure of Chang-ho in his long coat,
patrolling the riverbank with his rifle on his back. Luckily, he was alone.
There was just enough light to see by. The river beside me was a winding
road of ice – pale and translucent, as if it were absorbing the starlight.
I called Chang-ho’s name in a low voice. He turned and waved, and
switched on his flashlight.
Before he could say a word I said: ‘I’m crossing over to visit my
relatives.’
I saw his eyebrows shoot up. I’d never mentioned relatives to him before.
He thought about this, and shook his head slowly.
‘No,’ he said dubiously. ‘Too dangerous.’ His mouth turned down with
concern. ‘You could get into big trouble. And how would you get to where
your relatives live? You don’t speak Chinese. And you’re alone.’
‘I know people just there who’ll help.’ I nodded in the direction of Mr
Ahn’s house. He stared at me for several seconds. It was as if he was seeing
a different person.
‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘If you’re sure.’ He was extremely reluctant
about this. ‘Don’t be longer than a couple of hours.’
‘I’m hardly going to be long if I’m wearing these,’ I said, pointing to my
feet. He shone his flashlight onto my expensive new shoes, gleaming in the
beam. I’d worn them thinking they would help me blend in on the other
side.

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Suddenly we heard a twig snap underfoot on the other bank and our
heads turned. A dark outline of a figure was lurking on the other bank,
obviously a Chinese smuggler waiting for a contact to exchange goods.
‘Hey,’ Chang-ho called over to him. The figure looked as if he was about
to run away, so he must have been surprised when Chang-ho’s next words
were: ‘Would you help this lady across and take her to where she needs to
go?’
There was a pause. Then a faint voice called back. ‘Sure.’
It was just a few slippery steps. I’d be across in under a minute.
For the first time I was scared.
If any of the other guards saw me they’d have no hesitation in dragging
me back, even from the Chinese bank, where they were not supposed to
tread. This was the first time I had ever done something so flagrantly,
criminally illegal.
I didn’t feel guilt now – just a rushing, hair-raising danger.
I stepped onto the ice, one foot then the next, wobbling and sliding in the
new shoes. Ahead of me the Chinese stranger had emerged from the
shadows of the trees to help me, holding out his arm.
My mother would be fine, I told myself. Later tonight Min-ho would tell
her where I’d gone. By the time I returned she’d have forgotten her anger.
I’d only be away for a few days. I was so sure of this that I didn’t even look
back.
So why did I get the feeling that my life was about to change for ever?

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