Jia: A Novel of North Korea (8 page)

She hugged me several times, until her big glasses nearly
slipped off her small nose. My body staggered in the director's arms. My heart trembled. Am I leaving? Am I really
leaving?

At noon the next day, as I left the orphanage, the director cried and held my hands. I couldn't help but break
down in tears too; she was like a mother to me. Unable to
have a baby of her own, she was the only one who opened
her heart and regarded the orphans as her own children.
The teachers treated us like trash. No one cared about us,
because no one needed us.

I was already 16; the only reason I had been able to stay
longer than other orphans, who usually departed before
they were 14, was to teach the younger kids how to dance.
Otherwise, I already would have been a garbage collector,
or a factory cook.

As the car departed, I watched the gray buildings of the
orphanage I thought I might never leave grow smaller. I
had been stuck in those dismal buildings for ten years. I still
remembered the day I arrived-it was as clear as yesterday
in my mind.

Following our arrival in Pyongyang, the soldiers took me
directly to the orphanage. When the army cars pulled up in
front of the high building, Uncle Shin helped me out of the
car, and I saw a middle-aged woman with a round face, round
glasses, and a round belly bounce toward us. Several people
followed her out while, with flushed cheeks, she talked to the bushy-eyebrow soldier. Eventually she nodded her head
and approached me, reaching her moist hand out to mine.
"Come here, baby," she said. "We'll take care of you."

Saying farewell to the soldiers, I broke into tears, grabbed
Uncle Shin's pants, and plopped down on the ground. He
looked embarrassed.

The other soldiers made fun of him. "That kid has already grown fond of you just take her as your daughter."

Before he got back in the car, he hugged me and whispered softly, "They'll take you to your grandparents'
house-this is the biggest orphanage in Pyongyang. Don't
worry, Jia. Forget everything you remember about the
mountain. You'll have a new life here." He squeezed my
hands tightly and looked into my eyes. "Jia, you'll have a
good life." He promised he would stop by the orphanage
soon, but that was the last time I saw Uncle Shin.

Nightmares haunted me at the orphanage. I saw my
grandparents and my sister in our house. My sister massaged my grandfather's back and shoulders with her feet.
My grandmother sewed worn-out clothes, frowning and
complaining that her eyes were getting worse. They all
seemed so peaceful despite my absence. I was in a rage,
and I scolded them for abandoning me because I was such a
troublemaker. They ignored my crying and turned off the
light to go to bed. In the darkness, I sobbed alone.

In another dream, they looked horrible and wore sad
faces. My sister wouldn't even look at me. She stood with
her back to me, holding Grandmother's hand, and I called
her again and again, but she wouldn't turn around. Finally,
my grandmother took her up in her arms and they left together. My midnight shrieking made me a problem child; I
woke up the other orphans.

The director asked me to give her the pictures I had
brought. I was reluctant to hand all of them over, but she
said it was possible to find my grandparents with them,
though it might take some time. I was certain that within
a few days I would leave that place and be rescued by my
grandparents.

I slept with 25 other kids-all my age-boys and girls
mixed in one big dormitory that was little more than a cold
floor. When I entered the room the first time, a boy made
fun of me, saying, "Didn't you run away from home? Your
stepmom picked on you every day, right? Didn't they feed
you? Poor you. How easily you were caught by those scary
soldiers! Your parents will come here and beat you soon."

I didn't care about him. I was sure I wouldn't be there
for long anyway. Unlike the boys, the girls were nice; they
asked me how old I was and invited me to play jump rope
and jacks, games I had played with my sister every day.
I was good at jump rope, while my sister was much better at jacks. We tied one side of the rope around a skinny
tree, and one of us held the other side at the same height.
Then we'd skip over the rope from ankle height, then knee
height, hip, waist, shoulder, neck, and up to the crown of
the holder's head. I loved that game. We sang as we skipped.
When we felt bored with the same songs we composed our
own. We even made up arm gestures to make the game
more complicated. We took our jump-rope games so seriously that we frequently got into big arguments.

One day, when it had been raining since early morning,
some of the kids were playing jacks inside, while others
took a nap. I was strolling around, sulking, when the director came into the room, and had me stand still. She took the cleanest clothes out of my backpack and dressed me up. Patting my cheek lightly, she said my grandparents were coming soon. Before the other kids, I left the room exultant, in
a flutter of excitement. I tried not to forget the names of the
places I wanted to go.

I watched through the window of the director's office as
a shiny black car made its smooth approach to the building.
An old couple slipped out of the car: the old man was tall
and wore a dark-green military uniform, holding his round
military hat at his side; the lady was tiny, and had a round
face. Next to him, she was like a cicada on an oak tree. I
couldn't see their faces very well. Once I saw them head
to the gate, I returned to my chair and waited for them,
sitting properly and organizing my tangled hair. Soon the
director opened the door, and they stepped into the office
awkwardly, walking slowly toward me.

They were the people in the pictures. Though they looked
much older, I recognized their faces easily. How many
times had I seen those pictures! As they approached, I gave
a big smile. I was certain they were my mom's parents, I
could feel her in them. They had much better skin and
clothes than my grandparents on the mountain. I wanted
to tell my sister what was happening in front of me right at
that moment. She had never seen them; it was the first time
I experienced something before she did.

They sat down on two chairs placed in front of me and
looked at me silently for some time. My new grandfather
asked the director to excuse us for a minute. She nodded
and quietly left the office. Closing the door, she waved a
hand over her flushed face, and I answered her by showing
my teeth in delight.

Alone, they examined me again. My new grandfather's air was so brusque, so different from my other grandfather. He looked too clean. He might not have any special
smell, and I wondered whether it would be possible to fall
asleep next to him, breathing in his smell and tugging on
the drooped flesh around his Adam's apple, as I did with
my grandfather on the mountain. I didn't dare to watch his
face. Moving my fingers, I counted the different-colored
medals on his chest. After counting 20, I became worried
for him; it must be heavy to carry all of them on his body
every day.

With tearful eyes, Grandmother stretched her hand toward me to touch my head. When Grandfather cleared his
throat, she pulled her hand back to her knee. Finally, he
broke the silence.

"How did you get here from so far away?"

"Some soldiers helped me."

Why did he look so uncomfortable? It seemed he wasn't
happy to see me at all.

"Bookchang is too far away for a kid like you to get here
alone," he murmured.

"How's your mom?" Grandmother asked, hesitantly.

"I've never seen her. She died when she gave birth." I
was surprised at the question. Could they not know about
their daughter's death?

Grandmother gasped and turned her head to her husband's side. His face stiffened. He demanded, "How did
you get those pictures? Did your grandparents let you come
here? Did they send you?"

With my mouth half open, I looked at each of them in
turn. Grandmother avoided my eyes; I knew he was blaming my grandparents on the mountain and me as well. His
face was turning red, and I didn't want to hear his reproach; these two people had never cared for me and now they
couldn't even spare me a warm look. My cheeks were starting to burn.

"They gave me those pictures to find you because they
didn't know where you were. They were right. Without them,
I may not have met you at all." I tried to smile at them.

Grandfather said, "What do they want? To get out of the
compound? They want us to save them even though they
killed my daughter? Isn't it enough to wreck our family?
They still don't understand. Do they think they can have
their way with us? No! They are much better off than other
dissidents, and it's because of me. We tried to be generous
because of our daughter-maybe that's not necessary anymore." He gave me a fierce scowl, his face turning purple.
He was different from my grandfather on the mountain,
like a stranger, and I pulled back in fright.

My grandmother grabbed his arm. He breathed heavily and stopped scolding me. Still, he kept a hard face. He
stood up from the chair and said, "We promised the government we would have no contact with you. We swore
that we didn't have a daughter in our lives. You and your
grandparents don't realize that your behavior could risk all
of our lives."

He lowered his voice and continued, "We don't have
a daughter. We don't have any granddaughter either." He
turned back and left the room.

My grandmother held my hands and said, "You look
like your mom when she was your age." Then she stood up
as well and quietly left the room.

I didn't move from my seat. I heard the sound of the car
leaving and stared blankly at the door; their coldness had
stunned me. In my dreams they had drawn me into their arms and taken me to their cozy house. Why were they so
angry with me? Did they think I killed my mom? Did they
also see me as a little troublemaker?

Our first meeting had lasted less than one hour. They
didn't come again.

And so the orphanage turned out to be my second home. I
later learned that my grandparents had denied any connection to me and had taken away my photos, even my sister's
favorite. They claimed that their daughter and granddaughter had passed away ten years before. I decided to forget the
day I saw my mother's parents. I decided I had just one
grandfather and grandmother in my life. My pillow was
often soaked with tears; I longed to see my sister and play
our old games. The mountains gave us no food and bitter
cold, but I longed for them just the same.

After the meeting with my mother's parents, men in
dark suits came to the orphanage several times and asked
me whether I remembered anything of my past and how
I got so lost. My answer was always the same: "I don't remember." I was afraid any comments I made about my sister or grandparents would cause hurt to them.

I became one of the orphans, living at the orphanage
and attending the school. The director of the orphanage decided to take care of me. Sometimes she gazed at me for a
moment and patted my shoulder, but she never asked me
about my past. I began to thrive, in my new home. In fact,
it didn't take long for me to become the orphanage jumprope champion.

"This is your schedule."

Teacher Song-as the sharp-eyed woman ordered me to call her-threw a piece of paper onto the desk as soon as I
stepped into her office. Forgetting I had planned to thank
her for choosing me to join her dance group, I picked it
up with haste. She wore a white shirt and black pants over
her firm body. I looked around her office and saw that everything was in perfect order. In addition to Kim 11 Sung's
big picture in the center of the room, there were several
pictures of a woman dancing. I assumed it was Teacher
Song-it was hard to tell because of the thick makeup she
wore in the pictures-but her body seemed unchanged.
One bookcase was filled with books and the other with
medals of various sizes.

"All the students get the same training. So don't say it's
too much."

I was excited to learn something new. The schedule
promised I would be busy, though I couldn't understand
what a lot of the classes entailed.

"Of course not. Thanks for giving me this chance." I
smiled at her, but she never smiled at me. Perhaps she didn't
show her gentle face to anyone.

She asked, "Did you see your room?"

"Yes," I said, nodding my head, holding the paper with
both hands. I had just come from my new room. It was for
20 girls, but I hadn't seen my roommates yet. The driver
who'd picked me up from the orphanage said they were in
the gymnasium all day and wouldn't be back until dinner.

"You'll stay there until the festival is over," she said.
That room is for professional dancers, not amateurs like
the children in other dancing groups, so try to learn from
them and get along." Teacher Song stretched constantly as
she spoke to me. It seemed that she couldn't stand to stay
in one place.

"The big festival is exactly one year away, and we are
preparing several performances for it. You are already several months behind the other dancers, but I believe you'll
catch up. You'll get extra training after dinner every night.
Got it?" She stretched her leg in my direction, leaning on
the edge of the desk.

"Yes, I'll do my best." I was still anxious in her presence.

"Okay. You may go." As soon as she finished speaking,
she sat down in her chair and turned to the papers on her
desk. Just as I was leaving, she said, "Oh, by the way, don't
mention that you're from the orphanage to the other dancers. Just say you were raised by your grandparents, who
were in the army, if they ask."

She didn't look up at me as she spoke. I bowed and tiptoed out.

My new home was huge: several buildings, all much more
colorful than the orphanage. All the furniture was new,
too. The driver had told me most of the buildings were
dormitories for the dancers. Next to them was a big, round
gymnasium; I could hear music inside even from far away.