Jiwon’s Story  

The right to speak

“I’ve never shared this kind of story with anyone since I came to South Korea,” says a teary Park Jiwon. “I have right to speak in South Korea, because I have identification. I feel comfortable to share,” she says.

Jiwon is a 53 year old ajumma (older woman). She wears small white flower stud earrings. She touches the earrings shyly and explains how her Canadian friend took her to get her ears pierced. Jiwon pulls out her phone, and displays a photo taken with her friend. Jiwon never imagined she would have friends from all over the world.

In North Korea she grew up fantasizing about travelling to other countries and experiencing different cultures.

strained

Jiwon was obsessed with Korean and Chinese soap operas or dramas. She watched them at night while her family slept. Her son would sneak out of his bedroom and watch the shows with her.

“My son started using the South Korean language and dialect with his friends,” says Jiwon. “That’s when I realized he was watching my illegal dramas. I was scared for us.”

Since North Korea has intentionally cloistered itself from South Korean and American culture, speaking with a South Korean accent implies that a person has viewed South Korean or western content. Watching and selling dramas is a serious crime that can land someone in political prison.

“In North Korea, you never know when you are going to be called to the police station,” says Jiwon. “Sometimes you just disappear. So, I was so scared.”

Portrait of the Eternal President Kim Il-Sung (left) and Dear Leader Kim Jong-il (right) [Photo © Roman Harak, used with permission]

Jiwon had always believed that if she worshiped the Kim family, then her family would be safe. But after she became a mother, she began doubting her beliefs.

Jiwon threw away all her Korean dramas, because she felt like she was being watched. Her instinct served her right. Her house was searched by the police shortly thereafter.

The search pushed Jiwon to leave. She was tired of living in fear

“Before I die, I wanted to see if the countries in dramas exist. If it’s not true, then I planned to return to North Korea and be content with my existence. But if it’s true…then I wanted to change my son’s life.”

Jiwon didn’t know the route to South Korea. She only knew that she needed to cross the river into China and stay close to the road.

“I told to myself – today, I am going to make one step out of 1000 steps. I tried to move forward instead of backwards. I decided not to look back.”

She walked along a road until she found a bus stop labeled in Korean. When she would get lost, she would jot down questions in Chinese and ask people for help.

She told the Chinese villagers that she was visiting her relatives so they would not suspect she was from North Korea and report her to the authorities.

For eight days Jiwon walked non-stop. The soles of her shoes quickly wore out, and she bought a new pair in the city.

“I tried to pretend that I wasn’t North Korean and act naturally,” she says.

After nearly two months walking and riding, she finally made it to Thailand where she received asylum to South Korea.

In South korea

[Video © Ash Abraham. Art by Golbon Moltaji]

New Family

Jiwon enjoyed her time at the Hanawon. The Hanawon provides a range of vocational and practical training for North Korean refugees.

“You get to go to sewing class, English class, Chinese class. You can learn guitar, and you can choose your religion,” she says.

Jiwon made friends with her English teachers at the Hanawon. She also participated in a homestay program to become accustomed to life in South Korea.

Her friends helped her feel comfortable in South Korea. They were the only people she knew in the country, and the first guests she invited to her home. She recalls cooking a large meal for her new friends.

“I thought, this is my family,” she says. “This is one family with many different races and backgrounds.”

Namsan Tower in Seoul, South Korea. [Photo @ Ash Abraham] 

Although Jiwon feels more comfortable sharing her life with her new friends, she does not want to appear whiny or weak, so she keeps her emotions to herself.

She is trying to save money to bring her son to South Korea. The pain of being separated is almost unbearable.

Another challenge has been navigating her strong Korean accent. At times she feels unintelligent, because learning the South Korean dialect has been a slow process for her.

“It’s been really stressful for me to adjust here,” she says.

Sometimes Jiwon feels so discouraged that she doesn’t want to leave her apartment. When she makes a mistake with language, she feels the need to explain herself. She tells the people she encounters she is from North Korea.

“I have to let them know who I am. I am a little bit slow, but it’s their choice to embrace me or not,” she says.

These days Jiwon tries to remember that South Koreans are busy with their own lives, and do not have time to pay attention to her mistakes.

Although Jiwon does not describe herself as religious, since moving to South Korea she has found solace in Buddhist proverbs and in a church community.

After Jiwon celebrated Thanksgiving with other immigrants at a church she decided to reconsider the benefits of joining a religious community. Whenever she has the chance to go to a church or a temple she goes with an open mind.

“All those experiences helped me overcome difficulties by opening my heart and opening my mind to living this new life,” she says.

Most days Jiwon wants to go back to North Korea to see her son. She wants to tell him about all of the things she has seen and learned since leaving North Korea.

But for now, Jiwon will remain in Seoul, save money and watch as many Korean dramas as she pleases.

“I have to let them know who I am”