Daughters of the Dragon: A Comfort Woman's Story (15 page)

T
WENTY-SIX

W
hen I pushed
my way out of the apartment to go to work, my stomach churned. I moved to the street in case I had to vomit again. I had to wait a full minute to let my stomach settle.

I had decided not to tell Jin-mo about my morning sickness or that my breasts were swollen and sore. I didn’t want to burden his troubled mind with the fact that I was pregnant. Over the past few months, we had made love sporadically, and after each time, Jin-mo berated himself and called himself weak. It frightened me to watch him slip deeper and deeper into his depression. When my morning sickness began, I did my best to hide it. Jin-mo was missing a lot of work. He slept during the day, and at night, he read his books or filled sheets of paper with notes. He rarely ate and had turned pale and weak. I worried about him.

That morning, the March wind was sharp. I wrapped my scarf tight, dropped my shoulder to the wind and headed to work. I dreaded going to work. My manager in the translation department, Mr. Chee, had disappeared months earlier. Some said government officials took him away because he had lived in England and might have had capitalist’s ideas. Others said he had escaped to the south. After he left, the documents and contracts I worked on became increasingly absurd. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted to be home with Jin-mo. But with the way things were in Pyongyang, I went to work every day and kept my feelings to myself.

As I rounded a corner onto the boulevard leading to the government building, a convoy of gray-green army trucks belching black smoke in the air rumbled south. In the back of the trucks, young soldiers clutched rifles and looked out at the pedestrians with fatalistic eyes.

Outside the government building, a group of workers clung to scaffolding around a newly installed granite base on the boulevard. Next to it was a tall crane. A government official dressed in a black wool coat and fur hat stood next to the scaffolding. The pedestrians bowed to him as they walked by. From behind the scaffolding, the crane lifted a huge iron statue of a man. Its back was to me and its arms stretched out to the street below. As it rose to the pedestal, it slowly turned toward me and I saw they were erecting another statue of Kim Il-sung. The massive figure smiled down at me benevolently.

I went inside the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. In the bullpen area, a man whom I had never seen before was sitting in my chair. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a black military coat with a major’s insignia. Standing next to him was a soldier in a green uniform. The pistol on his belt made me swallow hard.

I wanted to run but went to my desk as my coworkers glanced at me nervously. Without getting up, the man asked if I was Hong, Ja-hee. I told him I was. He ordered me to follow him. He picked up his briefcase and marched toward the stairs. His footsteps echoed off the walls. The soldier with the pistol motioned me to follow the major.

They led me to a windowless room on the third floor. Inside was a metal table and two chairs. The soldier stood with his back against the door. The major told me to sit. He took off his coat, laid it on the table, and sat in the chair across from me. He took out a pencil and paper from his briefcase. “My name is Major Lee,” he said. “I have some questions. I expect you will answer them truthfully.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

Major Lee observed me coldly which sent a shiver through me. “You are Hong Ja-hee from near Sinuiju. Correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He wrote on his paper. “Your father died in battle fighting for the Japanese and your mother worked in a uniform factory. Correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And during this time, your sister Soo-hee was sent to a comfort station in Dongfeng, China. Correct?”

I was stunned. How did this man know about Soo-hee? I wondered if he knew about me, too. “Yes sir,” I answered quickly.

“What did you do during this time?”

My stomach began to roil again. I wanted desperately to keep what I did in Dongfeng a secret, but his question hung heavy in the air.

The major leaned over the desk toward me. “I asked a question. You will answer.”

My stomach turned into a knot. I tried to think. Ever since the Russians had left North Korea and Kim Il-sung had taken power, people who lied to the new regime had disappeared. The Communist officials expected North Koreans to cooperate and always to tell the truth. And there were rumors that the officials always knew if someone was lying. “I worked in the comfort station in Dongfeng, too,” I said finally. I lowered my eyes.

Major Lee nodded and wrote something on his paper. The soldier at the door glared at me.

The major continued to ask his questions. He asked me why I came to Pyongyang and he asked about my relationship with Jin-mo. I told him I came to work for the provincial government, that Jin-mo and I only shared an apartment, and that we were not married. “We rarely talk,” I said, truthfully. He asked why Jin-mo wasn’t coming to work anymore and I told him it was because he was sick.

And then the major asked, “Do you know why he has been inquiring about your sister?”

My stomach jumped again and my mind raced. “Sir,” I said, “I asked him to. He has learned nothing. I do not think it is possible my sister is alive.” 

The major nodded. “Yes, I don’t believe he found anything about her.” The major wrote some more on his paper, folded it, and pushed it inside his briefcase.

“Very well,” he said. “There is one more thing and we will be done.”

From his briefcase, he took out a two-page document, a pen, and an inkbottle and placed them on the table. He stretched his lips into a polite smile but his eyes remained cold behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “It has been determined that you are valuable to the Worker’s Party of Korea. You have the physical qualities of an ideal Korean woman, and apparently, you have great skill with languages. Your supervisors report that you are an obedient worker. We need someone with your skill in the department of education where you will translate literature supporting our Great Leader. It is an important assignment and you are fortunate to have been selected for it.”

He pushed the document and pen toward me. “First, we must be sure you are qualified. This is a statement of support for Chairman Kim. It states that you believe he alone is the rightful leader of Korea, North and South. It further states that you agree to give him your devotion and are even willing to die for him if asked.”

Major Lee’s smile stretched thinner. “The party is willing to overlook someone’s past if that person agrees to support Chairman Kim. I’m sure you will agree with this statement. Please sign where indicated.” He uncorked the inkbottle and pointed it at me.

I dipped the pen in the ink and signed the document without reading it. Major Lee blew once on the ink to dry it and put the document in his briefcase. He told me I had made a wise decision. “And now,” he said, “this man will show you to your new assignment.”

The soldier with the sidearm led me to the Ministry of Education on the third floor. I sat next to a stern woman with thick ankles who regarded me with disdain. I spent the entire day translating into English and Japanese propaganda about Kim Il-sung. The documents expounded upon the Dear Leader’s incredible bravery when he fought the Japanese during their occupation. They said that he alone had the skill and vision to bring the Korean people together as one nation. The documents made him sound like a god.

I did not question a word and made the translations as accurately as I could.

*

That evening when I left the government building to go home, the wind was still blowing cold. I wrapped my coat tight around me and walked quickly to the apartment. I was anxious to talk to Jin-mo about Major Lee and his questions.

I pushed the apartment door open and took off my shoes. The books and papers that Jin-mo had stacked in the living room were gone. Jin-mo crouched in front of a blaze in the fireplace. What remained of his books and papers was in a small stack next to him. The orange flames threw shimmering shadows against the wall.

As I took off my coat, I asked Jin-mo what he was doing. His face reflected the orange flames. He had changed into clean clothes, and had brushed his hair smooth.

“I’m burning them,” he said in an odd voice. He tossed another book in the fire.

“Why?”

“Because these books do not mean anything anymore.”

“Jin-mo,” I said, coming to his side, “someone came to talk to me today. Major Lee was his name. I had to tell him what I did in Dongfeng.”

Jin-mo stared into the fireplace as the flames caught the pages of the book and rose high. “It’s a good thing you did,” he nodded. “They probably already knew.”

I took his hand. I looked in his face, still handsome through all his pain. “Jin-mo, let’s leave Pyongyang. Let’s run to the South where no one knows us. We can go tonight.”

“It’s too late for me,” he said.

“Jin-mo, they will kill you here.”

“Yes, they will,” he replied matter-of-factly. He tossed another book on the fire.

The flames were hot against my face. “What should we do?” I asked.

“You have to go without me.”

I pushed his hand away. “No, I won’t go alone,” I cried. I could feel a tear overrun my eye. “I will not leave you!”

“Ja-hee,” he said, “they are probably outside right now. They will not let me get one block from this apartment. And if you’re caught trying to escape with me, they will kill you, too.”

“I don’t care. I will not go without you.”

“You have to. They will destroy you here; first your mind, then your soul. In the end, you will not care when they kill you.”

He picked up a book and admired it. After he tossed it in the fire, I said, “Jin-mo, I’m pregnant.”

He looked into the fire and smiled sadly. “How long?” he asked.

“Three months.”

“It is a girl,” he said simply.

“How could you know?”

“Because of your comb.”

“I don’t care about the comb,” I said. “I do not believe in the dragon. And I will not have this baby without you.”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s how I will do it.”

I shook my head. “Jin-mo, what are you talking about?”

Suddenly Jin-mo grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at him. “Ja-hee, promise you will do this for me. Promise you will keep the comb and let the dragon protect you.”

“No. I will not.”

He gripped me hard. “You must do it. Don’t you see? You must survive this. Then, someday you can tell them what we tried to do here. Do it for me. Do it for Korea.”

I must have winced from his grip because he let go of me. He nodded oddly and smiled a sad smile.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the dragon,” I said.

“I said I didn’t know,” he said, picking up the last book. “But now, it’s all I have to believe in. At least it’s something. And who knows? It might be true.” He tossed the book in the fire.

Eventually the flames consumed each page and all that remained of Jin-mo’s beloved books were glowing orange embers. He watched as the embers faded to ash and then looked at his feet.

I took him by the arm and led him to his room. I stripped off his clothes and put him in bed. I took off my clothes too, and slipped beneath the blankets next to him. He pushed his head into my breast and cried.

T
WENTY-SEVEN

T
hey came for
him when the night was darkest. They were inside the bedroom and were on him before I knew what was happening. Two soldiers dragged him naked from the bed and made him dress. He offered no resistance.

“What are you doing?” I cried, as I pulled on my clothes. I scrambled to the living room as they led Jin-mo toward the front door. “Where are you taking him? No! He’s sick. Let him go!”

“Halt!” came an order from beside the fireplace. Poking at the ashes of Jin-mo’s books was Major Lee. The soldiers stopped at the front door and turned Jin-mo to face him.

The major wore a black coat and fur hat. I hated the way he looked sideways at me through his wire-rimmed glasses. “It has been determined that Mr. Pak is sick and needs rehabilitation,” the major said. “Yesterday, you told me you were not married to this man. You signed a paper in support of Kim Il-sung and agreed to die for The Great Leader if asked. In return, we have given you an important job in the Worker’s Party of Korea. You have a fine apartment here. You have done well for someone with your… history. Certainly, you do not want to give it up for a disillusioned man, do you?”

Jin-mo pulled himself from the soldiers’ grip. “Ja-hee,” he said, “remember your duty to Korea.” For the first time in months, his eyes were clear. He looked like the man he was when I first saw him in charge of the census in Sinuiju. He looked like a man who believed in ideas. “You can do it,” he said. “Do it for Korea. Do it for me.” He smiled sadly. “Goodbye, Ja-hee.” He turned and walked out the door as the soldiers scurried after him.

I loved Jin-mo, I truly did. And I was not afraid to die for him. I desperately wanted to curse at Major Lee and run to Jin-mo’s side. But as I watched the man I love disappear out the door, my insides turned to stone just as they had in the comfort station in Dongfeng. The stone took hold of me and froze me in place like the Pyongyang fountains in the winter. I couldn’t feel and I couldn’t move. And I let them take my beloved Jin-mo away.

Major Lee slowly placed the poker back in the stand. “You’ve made the right decision,” he said pressing his lips into a smile. “Our Great Leader will not forget. And now I must see to Mr. Pak’s care. I hope the rest of your night is quiet.” Major Lee followed the soldiers out the door.

I dragged myself to the sofa and covered up with a blanket. I stared into the fireplace and wanted to cry. But my stone-hard heart imprisoned my sobs. And I thought about what kind of person I had become. I had tried so hard to put Dongfeng behind me and heal Jin-mo with my love. But I was a comfort woman and I could never have a man like Jin-mo.

My stomach roiled and I became nauseous like in the mornings. My skin turned clammy and I shivered. I threw off the blanket and built a fire in the fireplace. When the flames had taken hold of the wood, I marched to my room and pulled out my suitcase. I reached under the lining and took out the comb with the two-headed dragon.

I took it to the fireplace. In the flame’s flickering light, the gold spine glimmered and the two-headed dragon mocked me with its tongues and claws. I decided I hated it. The comb was nothing more than a cheap heirloom and the power of the two-headed dragon was just a myth. It had brought me only sorrow and loneliness and death to the ones I loved. How could I have been so naïve to believe it would protect me?

The baby inside me kicked and I cursed it. I kneeled on the hearth and poked the wood in the fireplace. The flames rose high. I added another log, then another. Soon, the flames reached past the flue. I held the comb close to the fire. The heat burned my hand and brought tears to my eyes.

You must pass on the comb, my mother had said. Do this for me, Soo-hee had said. Do it for Korea Jin-mo had said. I could see their faces dancing in the flames. “Damn you!” I shouted at them. “Damn you for making me do this. I am not the one who should!” The baby kicked me again, hard this time. I cocked my hand to toss the comb in the fire. And then the faces in the fire changed to those of Colonel Matsumoto, Lieutenant Tanaka and Major Lee. They laughed and mocked me. I dropped my arm and the faces changed back to flames.

Confused, I took the comb to the couch and wrapped myself in the blanket again. My nausea was gone and my stomach was settled. The baby no longer kicked. I watched the fire for a long time, trying to make sense of all that had happened to me.

Soon, I was warm and a profound weariness took hold of me. I lay on the couch to sleep. As I was about to close my eyes, I noticed something on the bookshelf. On the lowest shelf was one lone book that Jin-mo had not burned. I went to the bookshelf and picked it up. It was Jin-mo’s copy of The Communist Manifesto in Hangul.

I took it to the couch and opened it. Near the back was an envelope. Inside was money and a note. I took the note out and read it.

My dear Ja-hee,

You must leave the North as soon as you can. Go to the Gimhae Hotel just off the Taedong River south of the great square. Ask for a man named Mr. Gah. Tell him you want to see the world. Use those exact words. Pay him what he asks and he will take care of you.

Please forgive me for loving you.

Jin-mo

I thumbed through the money. It was a substantial sum. I read the note again and memorized the hotel and phrase I would need to say. Then, I took the money and tossed the note and book in the fire. I took the comb to the kitchen. I found some cloth, wrapped it around the comb and tied it closed with twine. I went to my room and laid out my dress for work the next day. I put the comb, the money, and the photograph of my family in my dress pocket. I went to bed and waited for morning to come.

*

The next day, I didn’t have morning sickness for the first time in a month. I washed and dressed and went to the kitchen. The apartment was eerily still without Jin-mo and his books. I finally cried a little when I realized I would never see him again, lay by his side, or talk to him about his ideas. I wondered what was happening to him, if he was being tortured or if they had simply killed him right away.

I hated them. The communists killed my beloved Jin-mo and they would kill Korea, too. Like the Japanese, they wanted all of you. It was just like Jin-mo said—first they take your mind, then your soul and then your life. Well, I wasn’t going to give them anything more.

I ate a breakfast of
dduk
and strong
bori cha
. I wondered if I should make
dduk
cakes to bring with me but thought better of it. Jin-mo’s note said Mr. Gah would take care of me. I had to trust that he would.

I put on my coat and went out the door. The sun was shining making everything bright again. The willows filtered the sun like lace. It was almost warm. I headed to the provincial government building, careful not to look over my shoulder or do anything out of the ordinary. When I got there, I looked at the huge new statue of Kim Il-sung. He beamed down at me with outstretched arms. I threw a silent curse at him.

I walked inside and climbed the staircase to the Ministry of Education. I sat at my desk and bowed a greeting to my supervisor with the thick ankles. I began to work on a translation proclaiming that Kim Il-sung would be Korea’s supreme leader for all eternity.

When my supervisor left the room, I went to the service staircase and down to the street level. I pushed the door open to an alley jammed with military trucks and official government cars. I wound my way to a side street and turned south toward the Taedong River.