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

freezing.
I checked the time on my phone every minute for an hour.
At 8 p.m. there was still no sign of them. A keening cry from a night bird
made me jump.
A quarter of an hour later, night had fallen like a cloud of ash. I could see
nothing on the other side of the river. The power was out in Hyesan.
The blood was no longer circulating in my hands and feet. The
temperature was dropping by the minute. I didn’t know whether my teeth
were chattering from cold or panic. Where are they?
Another hour went by.
Then out of the darkness someone called: ‘Ya!’
My heart went into overdrive. Along the North Korean bank a beam of
light was bouncing on the dirt track. Border guards, patrolling in pairs,
greeting another patrol. They were passing every two minutes. I didn’t
remember there being so many guards. They were just fifty yards away
from me. I could hear their conversation.
One patrol had a dog, which turned its head toward me and barked,
setting off a dozen other dogs. A memory came to me, long suppressed, of
seeing blood on the ice one morning. A failed escape. I put my hands to my
ears. If the dogs would stop barking—
My phone was buzzing.
Min-ho’s voice was fast and tense.
‘We’ve had a problem.’

---

Quickly, Min-ho explained that just as he and my mother had been about to
cross, they had walked straight into a border guard. Luckily he was
someone Min-ho did business with. The guard told him there was a general
alert out for a high-ranking family from Pyongyang who were attempting to
escape this very night. There were extra guards all along the river, he said,
as well as Bowibu agents. The whole area was in lockdown. The guard then
asked Min-ho to stay a while and keep him company while he kept a
lookout. At that moment, my mother had said good night, and had walked
away.
Min-ho said he and my mother would try again to cross just before dawn.
I returned to Changbai. It was now midnight. The town was deserted and,
alone in the dark, I felt exposed. I was too nervous to sleep, so I found an
all-night diner. I ordered a bowl of bean-paste stew and went over what
Min-ho had said. I couldn’t believe this. I had picked the worst possible
night of the year to bring my mother across, and it was already going
horribly wrong. I willed myself to stay calm, and to think clearly. In a few
hours everything will be all right. I couldn’t finish the stew. I went back to
the hotel and tried to doze for a while in my clothes.
I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew the phone was
buzzing next to my face.
‘We’ll be there at six,’ Min-ho said. I jumped off the bed. Minutes later,
as I was in the taxi, he called again. ‘We’re across. We’re hiding in the
derelict house.’
I was elated. I had not seen my dear mother in eleven years, nine months,
and nine days. Now I was minutes away from her. I asked the driver to wait,
and walked across the rough ground toward the riverbank.

---

The sky to the east was turning a faint duck-egg blue. Then, there, about
fifty yards ahead, next to the derelict house, I made out the silhouettes of
two figures. They were walking at a crouch, coming toward me.
My omma. In the half-light I saw a strained, old face, and a body moving
very stiffly. Min-ho was behind her, protective and guiding with his arm
around her.
I ran to meet them, but there was no time for a reunion. ‘We have to go,’
I said.
We were exposed, between the river and the town. At daybreak the
Chinese border guards would start patrolling. The taxi driver, who I hoped
was waiting out of sight on the road, might have got out and been watching.
He could report us.
I pulled out the clothes I had brought for them. ‘Put these on. Over what
you’re wearing. Quick.’ Once they were dressed I led them towards the
taxi. ‘Act normal, but don’t speak. He’ll think you’re locals.’
We got into the taxi. In case the driver reported us, I asked him to take us
to a different hotel. We sat in silence for the ten-minute ride. I paid the fare.
It wasn’t customary to tip but I didn’t ask for the change. We got out and,
once he’d driven away, walked to the Changbai Binguan. It was so early
that no one was around. The lobby was empty and the sole receptionist was
engrossed in her cellphone. Once I had put my mother and brother in the
elevator and told them to go to the room, I went over to the desk.
‘Hey there,’ I said, sounding casual. ‘The lady’s with me. I’ll bring her
ID when we come down for breakfast. The man’s not staying. He’ll go
soon.’
‘Fine,’ she said, stifling a yawn.
I closed the hotel room door behind me. For a moment we looked at each
other. Half a lifetime had passed since the three of us had been together. No
one could speak. Then my mother broke down, and all her tension released.
I held her. A lump rose to my throat. I had never felt such extremes of joy
and sadness at the same time. She was weeping uncontrollably. Over her
shoulder, Min-ho’s face looked immensely sad. He’d shared her pain all
these years. And soon he would say goodbye to her and probably never see
her again. We stepped back to stare at each other, taking in the changes in
our faces, the ravages of time. My mother looked helpless and frail. My

---

mind still held the image of her face the night I’d last seen her. She was
forty-two then, and a woman of so much energy she could hardly sit still.
Now she was fifty-four, but she looked much older. She was far thinner
than I remembered, and her mouth was drawn and lined.
They were both different. Min-ho was a grown man. I could see the
strength in his shoulders and arms. Eight years had passed since that brief
reunion with him at Mr Ahn’s house, cut short by the gang. He kept his
feelings bottled up, as our father had, but his eyes brimmed with tears at the
sight of our mother’s distress. Her hands were shaking, touching my face,
then touching her own face, then mine again.
‘Omma,’ I said. She saw the concern in my eyes.
‘I’ve aged twelve years in the last twelve hours,’ she said.
I laughed and hugged her again. She’d always made fun of her own
appearance. As I held her I suddenly remembered the clothes she had on
underneath were icy and soaking wet.
They were both visibly more relaxed after a hot shower, but I was back in
worry mode. We were not safe. I had to stay in control, and be vigilant. By
far the most dangerous part of the plan lay ahead.
‘Why are you so spotty?’ my mother said, as if no time had passed. It
was exactly the comment she would have made when I was seventeen. The
stress of the preparations had wreaked havoc with my complexion. ‘If I’d
known I’d have brought bingdu for you.’ Crystal meth.
‘I don’t think so, Omma.’
‘It’s great for your skin. Mix it with water, wash your face with it, and
it’ll clear up in no time.’
‘I use it for night driving,’ Min-ho said.
There was no point debating this with them now. Two separate worlds
were colliding in this room. Min-ho had put on the new jeans and top I’d
bought for him. He looked handsome. My brother. I did not want to think
about our imminent goodbye.
None of us had been to bed, but no one felt like sleeping. I wanted to know
what had happened last night. After they’d run into the border guard on the
riverbank, my mother had gone to wait at a friend’s house nearby. Min-ho
had kept the guard company for a few hours, then gone back to Yoon-ji’s
house, where he’d been living with her and her parents prior to the

---

marriage. The wedding plans were under way, but a date had not yet been
set.
‘You should have stayed together,’ I said, looking at both of them.
‘I couldn’t let Yoon-ji know I was helping Omma escape,’ Min-ho said.
If their relationship ever went sour, this fact could be fatal for him. ‘If we’d
come over last night, I was just going to call her and say I was here on
business and would be back in a day or two. She was still asleep when I left
this morning. I wrote her a note.’
Two guards had been patrolling when Min-ho had returned to the
riverbank with my mother just before dawn. They asked him who the
woman was. He told them she was a client meeting someone in China, and
would be coming back.
‘I told them she was paying me big money, so I’ll have to give them
something when I go back.’ Min-ho hesitated, and I saw worry in his eyes.
‘The funny thing was, while we were talking, more guards appeared. They
were relieving the guards on duty further up the path. Suddenly, there were
nine of them who’d stopped to talk. Some of them tried to persuade me not
to cross with this woman. They trusted me, but they didn’t know who she
was. Leave her behind, they said. So we got delayed a bit while I argued
with them.’
I told him he should have waited until they’d gone.
‘It was getting light and I didn’t want to run into a Chinese patrol on the
other side. Anyway, the guys all know me. It’s not a problem. I just said
goodbye and crossed.’
The group of nine guards watched as he took my mother’s hand and
waded waist-deep with her through the water.
The irony was all too much. I started giggling and couldn’t stop. The
border crossing is the most dangerous moment for anyone attempting to
escape. But my brother and mother had been waved off by every armed
border guard along that stretch of the river.
Next thing I knew all three of us were weeping with laughter.
As we went down in the elevator the next morning I told my mother and
Min-ho not to speak too loudly at breakfast. I would say something to them
in Mandarin from time to time. Otherwise, we’d keep quiet, and not draw
attention by speaking Korean. I was worried that Min-ho stood out. He was

---

the youngest person in the hotel. The other guests were middle-aged or
elderly.
After breakfast, we ventured out, disciplining ourselves to say as little as
possible. Even though many people in Changbai spoke Korean as a first
language, strong North Korean accents would be conspicuous. We went
shopping at a market so that I could show them the wealth of goods on
display. Then I took them to lunch at an upmarket Korean restaurant. I’d
figured, again, that this was the last place anyone would expect to spot
escaped North Koreans. But I also wanted to treat them. Soon Min-ho
would be leaving us, and I wanted us all to have a wonderful memory of
our last time together.
Back in the hotel room, Min-ho turned his cellphone on. It rang straight
away. It was Yoon-ji.
She was shouting the moment he answered. My mother and I could hear
every word. ‘Where are you? Who’s the bitch you were with?’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you know what’s happening?’
‘Calm down. What’s the matter?’
‘Everyone is going crazy here. The senior guard who let you across is
here at the house. He’s in a panic.’
‘Why?’
‘Someone informed his commander that you’d gone across with a
woman. The commander says if you come back with her right now, you’ll
be all right. But if you come back alone, you’ll be in deep trouble. And so
will the guard, for letting you cross. They’ll accuse you of human
trafficking.’ Min-ho’s eyes bulged in disbelief. ‘The guard is here. He’s
begging me to make you come. Right now,’ she said. ‘And who’s this
bloody woman you crossed with?’
‘She’s visiting relatives,’ Min-ho sounded evasive, sheepish.
‘Well why didn’t you just take her across and come back?’
‘She’s paying me a big fee.’
‘We’ve got money. Why take such a risk for this bitch?’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Bring her back,’ she shouted.
‘I’ll call you later.’
He hung up and collapsed onto the bed with his hands over his face.

---

My mother and I had heard everything.
Min-ho was in an impossible dilemma, the worst of his life. He had to go
back but couldn’t return with my mother – or they’d ask what she was
doing in China. The answer could only be to meet me. If he went back
alone, he’d be accused of human trafficking and interrogated. The Bowibu
would break him and quickly get to the truth – that he was helping his
mother to defect. He’d face political prison, a zone of no return. His life
would be over.
I went to the window and my forehead hit the glass with a thump. Not in
any of the disaster scenarios I’d envisaged had I imagined a complication
such as this. For several minutes we said nothing, sunk in our own thoughts.
I broke the silence.
‘Min-ho, if you go back, you’ll be in terrible trouble,’ I said, speaking
slowly and evenly.
Min-ho looked as if he’d been cast in wax. My mother said nothing.
‘If you both go back, it’ll be worse. Omma can’t go back with you. That
leaves us two choices. We can hope that your connections with the guards
will get you out of this …’ I was talking to him but he made no sign that he
was hearing me. ‘The other choice … is don’t go back.’
My words filled the room.
‘Your friend the guard will be finished. I’m very sorry about him. But
we’re your family. Min-ho, you can’t go back. You just can’t. It’ll be so
dangerous. You have to come with us. I hadn’t planned for this, but we’ll
figure it out, somehow.’
I knew there was no choice, but I had to let him decide. Both options
were extremely risky. Min-ho would have to travel across China as an
illegal. Also, I had budgeted for my mother and for the broker’s fee, but
didn’t think I had enough money for him, too. I had no confidence we could
all make it. But if he really thought he could go back, brazen it out, and
bribe his way out of the problem, it had to be his own decision.
Min-ho was in shock.
‘I can’t go back.’ His voice was a whisper. ‘We all know that.’
I took his hand and my mother’s hand, and held them. ‘We’ll leave
together. We’ll do the best we can.’
His phone rang. Yoon-ji again.
‘Are you on your way?’ she asked.

---

‘It’s going to take me one more day,’ he said quietly.
He was buying time to figure out how he was going to tell her. Her
parents liked him and had connections that could help him. But if they
thought he was running out on her, they also had the power to stop him
getting far. The Bowibu were permitted to operate in China to track down
escapers.
‘You’ve got to come back,’ she cried. We could hear her weeping.
She’d sensed he wasn’t going to come.
In the morning, we decided to leave Changbai as fast as possible. Min-ho
was dreading turning on his phone. It rang within seconds. Yoon-ji was
calling again. She was calmer now. She said she had a feeling that he wasn’t
coming back. Her parents were in the room with her.
‘Tell me … the woman you’re with. Is she really a stranger? Or is she
your mother? Just say the truth.’
‘She’s my mother,’ he said. ‘My sister came for her. That’s why I
crossed.’
Her parents had figured it out. She started crying again.
‘Min-ho, please come back.’ She was begging him. ‘You left me a note
but all the time you knew you were going for good. How could you leave
me sleeping without saying goodbye?’
My mother clasped her hand to her mouth. This was breaking her heart.
Min-ho’s lip trembled. ‘Please believe me. I wanted to go back. I still do.
But I can’t take Omma back. So how can I go back alone now? Check the
money in the drawer. It’s all there. If I were going for good, would I leave it
all there?’
‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘Just come back.’
‘Min-ho.’ A man’s voice, now. Stern. Yoon-ji’s father. ‘Please return
right away. I’m begging you, for Yoon-ji.’
Min-ho didn’t answer. He was breathing deeply. The look on his face was
one I remembered from when he was a little boy and wished something
wasn’t happening to him. I took the phone from his hand.
‘This is Min-ho’s sister,’ I said, hearing the coolness in my voice. ‘We
want him to go back; he wants to go back. Whatever he does now is
dangerous. But please understand that returning now is the more dangerous
option.’

---

‘I know it’s a serious problem,’ he said, ‘but we will do whatever we can,
whatever the cost, to take care of this.’
‘Good. Thank you. We will also try to think of a way,’ I said. ‘Let’s
speak again tomorrow.’
I could hear Yoon-ji in the background crying almost hysterically. I
ended the call. The scale of this disaster was clear. These two were in love.
I turned off the phone, and without expecting to, burst into tears. I was
exhausted. I looked over at my mother, who had remained silent this whole
time. I could only imagine the guilt she was feeling. She had been the rock
of our lives, always able to solve any problem, fix any situation. Now, she
could only watch as her children struggled with a calamity that had struck
just a day after our reunion.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ Min-ho said.
My mother shot me a puzzled look. He closed the bathroom door. We
heard him turn on the taps and flush the toilet. Then the shower came on
with a hiss. My mother and I glanced at one another and then we looked
down. We could hear him sobbing. It was agonizing to hear. He had nothing
left but his body and the clothes on his back. His mother and his sister could
do nothing. No words would be enough.
A few minutes later, he came out, dressed and towelling his hair dry. We
pretended we hadn’t heard. He had regained some composure.
‘So, Nuna, what’s the plan?’ He’d called me older sister on the phone,
but it was gratifying to hear it from him in person.
‘We’re leaving this town in under an hour.’

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Chapter 44