Days went by. Many of our neighbors who had gone to the town square had joined the Russians. Mrs. Kim gave them three books written in our own Hangul. One of the old ladies next door who didn't know how to read came to Mother in tears. "Please, will you read these books to me?" she begged. "I haven't see a book written in Korean since the Japanese took my husband away." She started to sob.
To soothe her, Mother offered her tea and sweet rice cakes. "I am sure Comrade Kim will read them to you," she said. "For now, come and join us." She put her arm around our neighbor and led her inside. The lady showed us a red book with her Korean name written in Hangul. After she had gone, Mother sighed. "The Russians are so clever," she told us. "We have been starved and treated like slaves for so long that we can be won over with a few kind gestures. People don't realize they're being brainwashed."
"Can you blame them?" snapped Aunt. "How are they to know there's anything better? Your Americans aren't here. I heard they're in Japan helping the Japanese! They're nearby now, but they just don't care about us!"
The next day, Comrade Kim came to visit. She was accompanied by the pretty blue-eyed woman with yellow hair. I was so happy that I ran toward them. I was drawn to the woman's pretty eyes and the red badges on her uniform. Comrade Kim smiled at me. "This is Comrade Natasha," she said, patting me on the head. "Comrade," she added, "this is our smart little comrade Sookan. She can attend the Little Proletariat School."
"Mulnon," Natasha replied, which means "of course" in Korean. It was strangely exhilarating to hear this woman with the blue eyes and yellow hair speak Korean. But before I could respond, Mother came out and grabbed me by the arm. Then she smiled and greeted Mrs. Kim and Natasha. When Mrs. Kim asked where Aunt Tiger was, Mother seized the opportunity to send me inside to get her. Natasha smiled as she saw Aunt Tiger approaching and said, "Anyong haseyo," meaning "How are you?" Aunt Tiger was taken aback to hear Natasha greet her in Korean. All she could do was nod in response.
With the grown-ups of the household assembled, Natasha gave us three books and asked us to come to the town meeting that evening. It was more of an order than an invitation. Comrade Kim commented that we were one of the few families that had not yet joined. Smiling, she said, "It is best to join to ensure the safety of our men. The Russian officers want a description of your husbands and sons. They will help search for them and make sure they come home to us." Having said that, she knew Mother would not refuse to come.
That evening, a jeep with a loudspeaker drove by to lead us up the hill to the meeting. We went out into the street and joined the happy masses. It was fun to be part of such a high-spirited and boisterous crowd, laughing and shouting in Korean. We walked along the path that ran along the base of the hill of Unhi's house. I looked up at the house and barely recognized it. A huge Korean flag and a huge Russian flag flew side by side, and giant portraits of Stalin and Lenin had been hung from the building. An old man gazed up the hill saying, "Under the Japanese, we were not even good enough to walk in this part of town where they all lived. Now our flag has been raised along with the Russians'." Mother and Aunt just walked on in silence.
When we arrived, Comrade Kim greeted us with a big smile and handed us each a red book with our names on it. "This is your I.D. card," she told us. "You should bring it with you to your nightly meetings." Another woman handed us red arm bands. Natasha gave us red scarves to wear around our heads. The large room was already filled with people. When everyone had arrived, Natasha started singing a spirited tune about the Volga Rivet and Mother Russia. The crowds quickly learned the refrain and began to sing the praises of Communism.
Then she sang a catchy tune that I liked: "We the little proletariat of Mother Russia are secret leaders. Small but important comrades, important leaders. Bad Capitalists, bad Imperialists. Marxism is the best. Our leaders, our leaders, they are our friends. We share equally. We are all friends, we are all equals. Little proletariat can do important work. We are important, we are important, we are important comrades." I sang out loud and was happy until I looked over at Mother and Aunt. I realized that they were barely mouthing the words. I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much, but everyone else, even Inchun, seemed to be having a good time at this festive gathering.
After a few more songs, we ate a huge meal and then were told to sit in front of a big screen. We were to watch a film about Mother Russia. I had wondered what Russia was like, and I couldn't wait for the movie to begin. The lights dimmed, and loud Russian music started to play. Masses of happy Russian proletarians filled the screen, waving red flags as they marched and danced in Red Square in celebration of May Day. Then I saw the vast fields of golden wheat and the happy farmers. The narrator said, "Mother Russia is a workers' paradise. No one wants for anything in wonderful Mother Russia."
We came home very late and I was exhausted. Mother and Aunt said nothing on the way hack. Early the next morning, at the crack of dawn, we were awakened by a loudspeaker. "Comrades, rise and shine. The sun is up. The happy proletariat of Mother Russia must begin to build the workers' paradise. There are streets to be swept, fields to be cleared, and crops to be planted. Here are your hoes, rakes, and brooms. Come." We donned our red scarves and red arm bands and went outside. One of the Russian comrades was standing at our gate waiting, and counted to see that we were all there. He put us on a truck which stopped at house after house until the vehicle was full.
We were driven to the outskirts of the city. One Russian comrade rode in the back with us and led us in song as we sped along. Mother and Aunt along with several other women were dropped off near an old minefield. They were to clear the land. Inchun and I and several other children were dropped off at a factory to sweep and clean. Inchun and I swept the grounds for several hours. At lunchtime, we were driven to another large building already filled with people. We looked for Mother and Aunt, but couldn't find them. So, Inchun and I ate with the other children. Soon we were taken back to the work site. Late in the afternoon, they picked us up and said we were going to see a movie. We drank barley tea, and sat down in front of the large screen. It was the same movie we had seen the night before. I was glad when it ended and the truck took us back home. Mother and Aunt were getting off another truck as we pulled in, and we ran to their waiting arms. Exhausted from the hard work, Inchun and I tumbled into bed.
Every day was more or less the same. We worked, sang variations of the same old songs, heard the same praises of Communism and Mother Russia, and saw the same happy faces of the Russian proletariat in the movie they showed over and over again. Incessantly, the loudspeaker blared the praises of the great Russian leaders. The town was so noisy I could hardly think. There was no need to think. Our every activity from dawn to dusk was programmed for us. We wore identical black pants, white shirts, and red scarves, and each morning when we were picked up for work, we were told what to do and how to do it. I had not learned anything new since that first Party meeting. I had begun to realize that Mother and Aunt were right.
Every day the Russians criticized the capitalistic Americans to make us feel the way they did. I found it harder and harder to tolerate the Korean women who worked so hard for the Party, fervently spreading Communist philosophy. They were so happy and proud to be leaders, and we called them our Town Reds. I was tired of it all, but there was no choice. We had to go to work and to the Party meetings every day to have our red I.D. books stamped. Each week, they counted the stamps before they gave us our rice ration.
The monotonous days turned into weeks and then months. It had been almost a year, and my father and brothers had still not returned. Aunt Tiger continued to wait for her husband. I missed the sock girls and I wished we could see even one of them. But we had no news of them. Our town was sparkling clean, and the red Russian flags, the red banners, and the big pictures of the "kind Marxist leaders" were everywhere.
Everything seemed to be in perfect order, but once in a while, we would hear of people trying to escape to the South. The dedicated To
wn Reds started a campaign to identify traitors. Over the loudspeaker they made their announcements: "Comrades, beware of the traitors who try to escape to the capitalistic South. Russia has no mercy for traitors. Those who have tried have been shot to death." Every time we heard these announcements, we couldn't help worrying whether we were on "the list." As Aunt Tiger put it, we weren't like the Town Reds, we were "Phony Reds" or "Pinks" who reluctantly did as we were told.
The special school for "The Little Proletariat" was finally established. Instead of attending the Party meetings with the grown-ups, we had our own meetings. With Natasha and Comrade Kim, we sang special songs and while we ate, we watched that same old movie. We were constantly told how important we were. Comrade Kim said it was our duty as little proletarians to teach the grown-ups. If we knew of grown-ups who did not show complete dedication to the Party, we should come and tell Comrade Kim and Natasha, and they would help us. They encouraged us to talk about our families and tell them what we talked about at night. Many of the children told stories about what their families were doing and received prizes for their candor. Inchun and I said as little as possible. We were not very popular at the Little Proletariat School. A little boy named Hansin was so thrilled to be a little proletarian that he talked all the time. One day he mentioned that a stranger had come to his house, and after that we never saw him or his family again. I started to grow more and more afraid of the Russians and the Town Reds.
Mother worried about our going to the Little Proletariat School. I heard her say to Aunt Tiger, "After all, they are children and the Town Reds are very skillful at getting information out of them." She was right. With each passing day, it got more difficult for Inchun and me to say so little.
We knew that Kisa was trying to make some arrangements for us all to go South. Mother wanted us to be ready to leave as soon as Father, my brothers, and the nuns arrived. As a mechanic, Kisa was always going around fixing things, and he got to know many of the Pinks in town. He became involved with a group that helped locate secret guides that would take people to the South. As a cover, he pretended to be a Town Red, actively working for the Party. Mother said he would be killed if they found out what he was doing. At home, Inchun and I would sit together and make up things to tell the comrades. We kept working and attending the school, but it was all very boring. I began to wonder what it would be like in the South.
The cold weather was setting in. Mrs. Kim brought a barrel full of coal for us to warm our shiny ondol floor. Beaming, she told us, "Your Kisa works so hard for the Party. He often works all through the night to recruit Party members. So we have brought your family the first batch of coal to help keep you warm. Remember how freezing cold we always were when the Japanese Imperialists were here?" Mother nodded and thanked her.
Early the next morning, Kisa came rushing home and whispered to Mother, "We'll have to make plans to go to the South right away. It's getting tougher and tougher. The Russians have discovered most of the secret paths we've been using, and they've started closing them off. They've put more guards on patrol with machine guns. We think a lot of the people we sent have been killed, but we're not sure."
"I want to wait as long as we can tor the nuns and for the men so that we can all go together," said Mother.
Kisa shook his head. "They're probably already in the South," he said. "Many men went straight to the South when they were released by the Japanese. They got word of the Thirty-eighth Parallel before we did. We can't wait. If we wait much longer, we'll never be able to leave. I'm going to make the arrangements. We have to be careful to avoid suspicion. There are lots of spies around. Make sure to go to all the meetings, and smile and sing loudly." He patted Inchun and me on the head and said, "I know I don't have to worry about you two little ones. You're too smart for your age. Keep an eye on your Mother and especially on your Aunt Tiger. Make sure she doesn't complain about anything. We all have to look like happy members of the proletariat, understood? I'll be back as soon as I can." Kisa left as quickly as he had come. We all watched him limp away.
The following morning, the truck came by and picked us up as usual. The day never seemed so long. Inchun and I worked side by side in the fields. Whenever one of the Town Reds came near us, my heart started to race and I was afraid she would shout, "Traitors, we know you are plotting to escape. You are only pretending to be good little proletarians." I was glad when the sun set and we were finally put on the truck and dropped off at home. My voice was hoarse and my arms ached because I had sung so loudly and waved the flag with the hammer and sickle so vigorously the whole way home.
The days dragged on slowly, now that I was anxiously waiting for Kisa to tell us when we would be going to the South. It was hard not knowing what had happened to my father and brothers. It was hard to remain silent when it was all that I thought about. Mrs. Kim started to bring delicious cookies to the Little Proletariat meetings to give to the children who told all about their families, but Inchun and I were wary. Our whole household was nervous and frightened. We were afraid of the Russians, but even more afraid of the converted Korean Communists, for they would surely report us. It was hard to tell who was a Pink. We couldn't take any chances.
One afternoon, Mrs. Kim came to visit us. She asked if Mother was feeling all right and if we had enough to eat. Mother thanked her profusely for her concern, and Comrade Kim left saying, "Mother Russia and our leaders are generous. If you need more bread to eat, we will give you more."
Mother sighed with relief as she watched Mrs. Kim walk back out the gate, but Aunt Tiger whispered, "Do you think she knows something? Maybe someone told her to watch us closely. I wonder if Kisa is all right ... it's been a few days since he's been home."
"I am sure he's all right," replied Mother, wringing her hands. "Mrs. Kim is just poking about as usual."
That night we ate our meal in silence. I heard Mother and Aunt Tiger whispering their prayers in the next room. I, too, said my prayers under my breath and I drifted off to sleep, comforted by their voices.
Chapter Eight
A cold gray fog hung over the town. The rice-paper paneled doors, rattling in the late-October winds, sounded like crickets on a dark night. It was late, but we were trying to stay awake, hoping this would be the night that Kisa would come to see us. When I went to adjust the rice-paper panels, I saw a black figure limping toward us. My heart started to race and I was filled with joy and relief.
Kisa smiled nervously as he came inside. He was flushed and breathing heavily. "I saw Uncle!" he blurted out. "Just for a few minutes on the road."
Mother said, "When, how is—"
Kisa waved his arms in the air to stop her and said that he had only a few minutes to spare. He said that through his work with the Party members, he had gotten in touch with Father, who had been trying for a long time to find a way to reach us. Father had successfully convinced the Communists to hire him to transport raw materials from the North and trade them for rice in the South. He had already made several trips back and forth.
While transporting goods to the South, he managed to help many people escape. Somehow, he found my three brothers after the war. Jaechun had been very sick with tuberculosis and dysentery due to the bad food and the years of hard labor under the Japanese. Hanchun and Hyunchun were about to be shipped off to Siberia, hut Father got to them in time. Mother had her hands clasped over her mouth to contain herself. She wanted to hear every word. "Are they all right, where are they now?" she finally blurted out.
"Yes, yes, Uncle said they are all fine now," Kisa answered. "They were ill, but Uncle hid them in a Buddhist temple far in the north where they could recuperate. Then, he hid them in his truck and took them to Seoul. Uncle is looking well. He's working on coming up to Kirimni to take us back next. From now on, we must be ready to leave at a moments notice."
"We'll be ready," Mother said. "We'll pack everything right away and we'll be waiting."
"No, no ... no packing. There's not enough room in the truck
," said Kisa. "Just be dressed in many layers of warm dark clothing. We must pretend we are off to a Party meeting down the street. We're going to have to walk through town to meet him. He can't be seen straying from his appointed route. It would arouse a lot of suspicion. In the meantime, be very visible at the Party meeting, praise Communism, and hoist the red flags high. If you can, try to be home as much as possible. I don't know when Uncle will be coming, but we have to be ready to go whenever he shows up."
"Be careful," whispered Mother, and she watched him disappear into the darkness. She stared at the door through which Kisa had so quickly come and gone, and then collapsed to the ground. I saw tears welling up in her eyes. Aunt Tiger sat next to her and they hugged each other. Mother stretched out her arms and Inchun and I ran to them. How good it was to know that Father was alive and well, and that my three brothers were safe in Seoul. And how wonderful to know that Father would be coming to take us to the South. Yet I wondered how it was that he had left us here so long. I wished that he had come for us earlier, as he had for his sons Why had he left us for last?
Mother, wiping her tears with her trembling fingers, murmured, "I knew my God would not desert me. I knew He was listening to all our prayers." Then Mother looked at Aunt Tiger and said, "We will soon hear good news about your husband, too." I suddenly realized how pensive Aunt Tiger looked. She was happy for us, but I knew that every day she hoped for some news of her husband.
We waited in anxious excitement, and each day seemed longer than the one before. Aunt Tiger, frightened that our plan would be discovered, said one day, "I think I should be more visible at Party meetings. It'll make it easier for us. Maybe I'll be able to get us a work assignment to do at home."
Year of Impossible Goodbyes Page 9
