Mother exclaimed, "How long do you think you can fool the eager Reds? We're all doing enough. Don't get in any deeper. It's too dangerous." But Aunt was determined, and for the next several days she worked until late in the evening with Comrade Kim and her followers.
Early one morning, Inchun and I heard Aunt chatting with the other Party members. "Comrades, I want to do more work for the Party. Communism is the way to go for us women. No men and no Japanese can tell us what to do anymore. I want to enlighten ignorant women and convert them to Marxism. The capitalistic Americans are no good. We must do what we can for Mother Russia." Comrade Kim, thoroughly delighted, immediately took Aunt Tiger to Natasha. Aunt Tiger told us later that they had a celebration to welcome her into the ranks.
Aunt Tiger quickly made friends with the Party leaders as well as with many of the frightened, timid townspeople. It did not take her long to know the real Reds from the Pinks. Between Kisa and Aunt Tiger we learned that there were many others looking to escape to the South.
As Aunt Tiger had hoped, she was able to get us a project that allowed us to work at home. We were given the task of making more flags and posters for our town. Mother and Inchun and I copied the propaganda slogans onto large banners and sewed flags at home all day long. The whole family had become trusted comrades and potential Party members.
Each day we waited for Father, fully prepared to leave for the South within minutes. For several nights after Kisa's visit, we lay awake listening for the urgent tap at the door. Our nervous anticipation turned to weary disappointment with the passing of the days. There was no sign of Father, and Aunt Tiger was having a harder and harder time pretending to be a devoted Party member. She produced no results as far as the Party was concerned. She had not identified any townspeople as traitors, nor had she brought any new members into the Party. And the Russians and Town Reds were beginning to keep an even closer eye on everyone. Party leaders had begun to issue passports to all of us. Even to cross the street I had to show my passport and have it stamped. Walks and visits were limited even within Kirimni.
At the Little Proletariat School, it grew increasingly difficult for me to listen to the awful propaganda and the constant harsh criticisms of the Capitalists. Anyone who was interested in anything other than the Marxist Red books was labeled a traitor and a Capitalist. We only talked about Mother Russia and the wonderful Communist leaders. I had to make the smaller children repeat after me: "We, the young proletarian comrades, are important. We can save our grown-up comrades from being Capitalists and Imperialists. If we see any comrades, whether father or mother, not understanding Mother Russia, we must report them to our comrade leader. This is our duty to Mother Russia. The Capitalists are our enemy The Imperialists are our enemy. Mother Russia is for people like us. One for all and all for one. We are all equal and it is our duty to secure this social paradise."
It had been almost three weeks since Kisa had come. As usual, I got dressed in my many layers of clothing in case that day would be the one. Inchun came to my room, and we watched the dawn breaking. The world seemed safe and peaceful. It was then that we heard footsteps outside the rice-paper paneled door. Our ears were so attuned to the atmosphere that no unusual sound or movement could escape our notice. We ran to the door. Mother and Aunt Tiger were already there, peering out into the semidarkness.
The door slid open and a foot entered awkwardly through the door. We knew it was Kisa. "It's okay. It's Kisa," he whispered with excitement. "I have a very special message from Uncle. He will not be able to come and get us. The security is too tight around here." Then he pulled out a small pouch of something and handed it to Mother as if it were some precious object. Carefully she untied the strings of the pouch. Rings and necklaces made of gold and jewels sparkled inside the handkerchief in which they were wrapped. Kisa said they were rare jewels and they would be enough to hire the best professional guide to help us cross the 38th Parallel. Kisa had made these arrangements over the past three days as Father had asked him to. The guide would come at exactly 4^30 in the morning, and would he dressed like a farmer, wearing straw shoes and carrying an A-frame on his back. Mother was to give the pouch to him before we left on the long journey.
"You give it to him when he comes. Why are you telling me this?" asked Mother.
Kisa sighed. "I can't go. If I disappear, the Russians will notice immediately and will send a search party after me. Then we'd all get caught and be brought back here to face the machine guns. Aunt Tiger and I have to be here to cover for you and give you a chance to cross the border. The two of us have been too visible. You must leave now and we will follow soon after. I have to run. Remember to be ready by four-thirty. That's when the patrol guards change shifts and the guide will want to use every minute of that time. So be waiting by the door, give him the pouch, and follow him immediately. He will be pleased with his pay, and he will treat you well, especially the little ones."
Aunt Tiger remained silent throughout all this. Mother turned to her in disbelief. "But both of you must come with us..."
Aunt Tiger did not respond, and Kisa simply said, "We will all see each other very soon. I must leave. Now, when you reach the South, there will be sources to help you locate your home in Seoul. That won't be a problem, so you needn't worry about that now." Kisa wished us a safe journey and lifted Inchun up onto his shoulder. He gave him a bounce, and put him down. Then he rested his hand on my head. I had always felt warm and secure in his presence. He hesitated for a second as if he wanted to say something special to me. I wished that he would with us. Suddenly, I was gripped by the terrible fear that I would never sec him again. I looked up at him and he smiled broadly to chase away the clouds of sadness within me. I could not smile back at him. He turned and slowly disappeared.
Mother looked deep into Aunt Tiger's eyes. But before Mother could speak, Aunt Tiger said, "I want to stay here, you know. I want to remain here until my husband comes back to me. I know he's not dead. He'll come back for me; he can't live without me."
"Maybe he went directly to the South from Japan. He probably heard the Russians were here and that many of the Northerners were escaping to the South. Maybe he is looking for you there ... Why don't you come with us? Convince Kisa to come with us, too. We'll all risk it together."
Aunt Tiger took Mother's hands in hers and said resolutely, "Listen to me. All these years you were my strength. You were the one always helping me. I came to you as a bitter and spiteful woman whose only remaining objective in life was to get revenge on the Japanese for killing my parents and my babies and taking my home and husband from me. But thanks to you, look at me. I now have many people whom I love and most of all, I am able to help many people. I've found new purpose in life. This simple woman is going to do some good. I now know so many people who want to escape to the South. I want to help arrange a few more trips for the neighbors and then I will leave. It won't take too long."
Aunt Tiger left for her midnight Party meeting. As usual we draped thick blankets over our rice-paper paneled doors for fear that even the dim candlelight might attract the attention of the comrades. Mother told us to get some sleep. I lay awake filled with fear and anticipation. I watched the low candle burning, and listened to Mother walking about the dimly lit house. We were all afraid. So many things could go wrong. Once it was discovered that we were gone, the Communists would know that we had gone to the South. Kisa and Aunt Tiger would surely be suspected and punished. We had heard many cases of how those who were left behind were punished as traitors of Mother Russia. I tried to remember all that had happened today. It was too overwhelming to think that we were to escape without Kisa and Aunt Tiger. I could not imagine life without them. They were the family that I knew and loved. I knew them better than I knew my own father and brothers. I heard Inchun snoring softly beside me as we waited. My thoughts started to disperse into millions of bubbles. My entire body was suddenly overcome with exhaustion and I began to sleep.
When I woke up, I saw Aunt
Tiger kneeling at the side of my bed. She must have just returned from the midnight Party meeting. She was smiling. She looked tenderly over at Inchun, and pulled his covers around him. "We will let him sleep a bit longer," she said. "I wanted to have a few moments with you before all the rushing about begins." Instead of saying anything special about our leaving each other, she started rummaging through her bag. She had brought some food from the Party meeting for our trip. Surely she was trying to hide her face as she searched for so long through her small bag. Her eyes were filling with tears. As Mother walked by, Aunt Tiger pulled out some money. "Keep it," she said. "Just in case something happens and you need it." Mother shook her head. Mothers eyes were closed and her lips were trembling. But Aunt Tiger insisted. "Please, I beg of you, let's not waste time talking about my coming along anymore." Mother looked down at the ground. Then she took the money and put it in the sock that she kept hidden under the long skirt of her hanbok, her chima.
It was hard to believe we were finally leaving Pyongyang. We were all ready. The guide was to arrive any minute. I went and sat with Inchun. We could hear the two grown-ups rushing about in the next room near the kitchen. It was windy and cold, and I listened to the rattle of the thin rice-paper paneled doors. I knew it was the last time I would hear the familiar sounds of our old house. I looked around the room. There were a few things I wished to take, but I knew I couldn't. If only I could take one of Grandfather's oxtail brushes with me.
Inchun and I must have somehow dozed off as we waited. Aunt Tiger came and tapped us awake and said, "He's here. Hurry." We followed her to Mother's room. Mother was dressed in dark clothes and had wrapped her head with a dark kerchief. The guide sat opposite her. He was a thin little man with a wrinkled leathery face baked by the sun. His small black eyes cast a strange light as he looked at us. In his rough chapped hands he held the pouch that Kisa had brought from Father. Next to him, propped against the wall was his A-frame.
The guide stood up, saying, "Good, you're ready. Children, remember, if you are stopped and questioned by anyone, I am your uncle. I came from Yohyun to fetch you in a hurry because your grandmother in Yohyun is dying. No matter how many times you are questioned, that is all you should say. Say you don't know anything else. You are children and you will get away with it. When we go through the checkpoint where they check passports, you stay behind me. The guards know me, because I live in the neighborhood and pass through often. They know I have many children. They'll probably just think you are mine. If your mother is pulled aside for questioning by the Russian soldiers, don't let them know she is your mother by making a scene If all three of you are captured, the Russians will interrogate you separately and your mother probably won't make it. It'll he easier for your Mother make up some explanation if she's alone. As soon as they see a woman traveling with her children, they think she's up to something and start investigating. So, don't cry and call out to her. Don't even look back Just follow me and match along casually The soldiers will probably look your mother's passport over and let her go. She can catch up with us later."
While he spoke, Mother looked at us and when he was done, she said, "Remember to do exactly as he says." We understood. Mother said to the guide, "If for any reason I am detained and it looks as though it might take some time, please take care of the children. I put some extra money in the pouch for their use just in case. Perhaps you could take the children safely to the South first and come back for me." Then Mother looked at us and said, "Everything will be fine. Just listen and do as he says. We'll all be fine."
Aunt Tiger sat down beside us. "You needn't worry about these two children," she told the guide. "They are wiser than some old folks I know."
The guide slipped the pouch Mother had given him in his chest pocket underneath the many layers of strange clothing he was wearing. He strapped on his A-frame and headed toward the door. Aunt Tiger desperately reached out and grabbed our hands. Little Inchun burst out crying. Aunt Tiger hugged him and said, "Now, now, what is this? I'll be coming right after you." I saw Aunt Tiger wipe away her tears.
Mother gently pulled Inchun from Aunt Tiger and hugged him. "Don't make this any more difficult than it is," she whispered to him. "Everything will he fine, you'll see." Meanwhile, the guide was waiting impatiently outside the door. He made a hissing noise like a cat to get us to hurry. We left Aunt Tiger standing in the yard stating out into the darkness. It was strange to leave this house where I had lived all my life. It was strange to leave everything I loved. Inchun had not even taken his little top. We were allowed to take nothing but a small snack and our passports. The guide took the passports from us and Mother kept hers. We did not question him. He was the leader. He knew the Russian soldiers' rules and schedules, just as he knew which streets were safe and when. Our lives depended on him. We had to obey him unconditionally. Yet I feared we had entrusted our lives to a greedy farmer.
Mother held our hands. The guide walked so fast that we had to run to keep sight of him as he wove through the small back roads of Kirimni leading to the train station. Often we heard the harks of the Russian guard dogs patrolling the main streets. At this, we would stand perfectly still until we heard the barking fade into the distance. The guide did not look back once to see if we were following him.
We chased after him for two hours in fear that we might lose him. The cold, gray morning light was greeting us. I could see the train station in the distance. Now we were out in a wide street and had joined a crowd of people heading toward the station. Farmers and peddlers were bringing their wares to sell to the passengers on the train. Many of the people at the station looked as if they had slept there. Perhaps they had missed the midnight train. Many had cages of chickens and rabbits, or crates of food with them. I suddenly noticed that the guide had disappeared.
I nudged Mother and she whispered, "Don't say anything, just stay next to me. He knows what he is doing." We sat on the cold concrete and waited. Inchun just listened and did not say a thing. His pale little face was still streaked with the tears he had shed when we left Aunt.
The Russian soldiers and North Korean police, with their guns flung over their shoulders, were walking around the station scrutinizing everyone. Mother pushed my head down into her lap and closed my eyes with her hands. We sat quietly amidst the hundreds of other passengers who were waiting for the train. I wondered how many of these ragged farmers and peasants were headed to the South as we were. They looked gloomy and tired, with their heads between their knees, hoping to avoid the attention of the police. It was safest to look like all the others and blend into the crowd. The police and the soldiers lifted several of the sleepy faces only to let them drop back down. They wove through the crowds practically stepping on peoples legs and hands.
A big boot stepped between Inchun and me, almost crushing my hand. The hem of the man's heavy khaki coat brushed against my face. It smelled awful, and left me feeling afraid. Up close, the guns looked even bigger than I had thought. I was supposed to keep my head down and my eyes closed, but I followed the police with my eyes. They must have been looking for someone. Mother pushed my head back down again, and she rested her hand on my head to make sure I would not look around. After a while the police went away. The guide reappeared and sat at the opposite corner of the station. He put his A-frame down, leaned against it, and went to sleep.
Finally, the train arrived. The station became chaotic as people got off the train and stepped through the crowd. Most of them were farmers who had come to sell then water at the station or at the Pyongyang city market. They carried big bundles of fresh eggs and corn, live chickens, and handicrafts. The smell of steamed corn and sweet rice cakes filled the air. The women balanced big baskets on their heads, and some had babies strapped to their backs. The vendors called out to the crowds, trying to sell their goods, and some of the people who had been sleeping and waiting around the train station for so long got up to buy food.
Mother didn't buy anything. We had to rush to the train to fo
llow our guide. I wished we had a minute to buy one of those steaming ears of sweet corn. I was hungry and cold. But Mother took us by the hand and led us along. The station was so crowded that we were pushed by the swarms of people moving toward the train. Mother was constantly on the look-out for our guide, while holding tightly to us. The masses of people parted only for the armed police or the soldiers. Pushing and squeezing to make room where there was none, some people cried out in pain or fell and were stepped on. Mother lifted Inchun and carried him so that he would not be crushed or separated from us. There were too many people. The train was already full. By the time we were pushed onto the train we had lost sight of the guide. I could see the anxious look on Mother's face as she searched in all directions.
There were no seats or windows. I heard people say the Japanese had broken all the windows and removed the seats before they left. The cold wind blew through the cars. None of this mattered, though. We were desperate to find our guide. We were completely lost without him. We hadn't even realized that the train was already well on its way. People began to settle down. Some were able to stake out a small space on the floor to sit. We huddled together on the floor, trying to dodge the damp night air. Mother kept looking around while trying not to attract the attention of the secret police, who seemed to he hiding everywhere.
I don't know how long we sat on the cold floor of that crowded train. My whole body ached. I wanted to stand up and stretch my legs, but Mother said that if I stood up, there might not be enough room for me to sit again. At least all the bodies pressed against each other helped us stay a little warmer. But Inchun, cold, hungry, and uncomfortable, began to sob. He had a stomachache and vomited. People made rude remarks and stood up. I was glad when they stood because they now served as shields against the wind.
Year of Impossible Goodbyes Page 10
