A North Korean Defector’s Nine Year Journey to Freedom | Eunju’s Story
I didn’t know I was hungry until I was eight years old. Growing up, I had no concept of whether my hometown was wealthy or poor. Then when the great famine struck in the mid-90s, more people died in our city than anywhere else in the country.
That’s when I realized “Oh, this is the most difficult place to live in North Korea.”
I was born in the city of Eundok, North Hamgyong Province. Before that it was called Aoji, a destitute place infamous for its coal mines, where South Korean prisoners of war were sent to work.
In the middle of a long famine, people lose all sense of humanity. You couldn’t survive without dirtying your hands. My father was a kindhearted person, the type that was unable to hurt anyone. But towards the end, hunger drove him to steal from our own house.
On my first day of middle school, I couldn’t find my new backpack anywhere. It turns out that my dad had taken it to the Jangmadang, traded it for food, and eaten it by himself. In the end, he still died from starvation, and my mom, my sister, and I were left to fend for ourselves.
We heard that if we went to China, we could eat all the candy we wanted. With that one piece of information, my mom said she’d rather get shot crossing the Tumen river than starve in North Korea.
It was mid-February in 1999, during the bitter cold winter. The water was frozen solid and stretched over 100 meters across. My mom went first, followed by my sister, and I was in the very back. Maybe it was because I was anxious, but my shoes felt so slippery and I kept falling over as they went farther and farther ahead. We heard that soldiers would shoot anyone who tried to cross the river. But this was our only chance at survival.
My mind was racing, “What if I’m left behind and get caught?” My mom and sister probably feared the same thing.
We encountered a tributary that wasn’t frozen all the way, so my mom waited and had me go first because I was the lightest. A few steps in, the ice broke and I fell into the piercing cold water. None of us knew how to swim. At that moment, I really thought it was the end. But then my feet hit the ground. We had made it to the other side.
Not long after we had crossed into China, a Korean-speaking woman came up to us. She invited us to her house and gave us over a dozen boiled eggs, more food than we had seen in years. In North Korea, when my sister and I had a field trip for school, my mom would cut one boiled egg and give each of us half in our lunch box. To have this much at once was a true luxury. For the first time in a long while, we dared to have some hope.
But then my mom was sold off to a Chinese man. The fortunate thing was that even though my sister and I were 16 and 14 years old, we were so short that people asked if we were 7 or 8. They couldn’t sell us separately, so we were sent together with our mom.
We had been sold for 2000 yuan. When we wanted to leave, the man told us to pay him back. We worked in his house and on his farm but of course we never saw a penny. For three years, we lived in confinement, and my little brother was born.
On a quiet night before my brother was even a year old, Chinese police came to the house in the dark, knocked on the door, and arrested us.
When North Koreans get caught, sometimes they’ll roll up their money and eat it or hide it, but we didn’t have anything. We were taken back across the border with just our clothes. It’s well known that there’s a physical exam to look for hidden money. In a way, you shouldn’t even feel a basic sense of shame as a woman and as a human being. If you cry or plead for mercy, you’ll get beaten up. You cannot question them at all.
With so many people in North Korea dying of starvation, names were removed from the family register after three years without any news. We had already been declared dead. There were two minors and an adult, but our identities couldn’t be confirmed. At the time they couldn’t keep minors in prison without a ruling from the court, so we were entrusted to another person from our hometown. No one wanted extra mouths to feed, so he just let us go.
We went straight to the Tumen river and in 2002, we escaped again.
I had enough food when I was in China. Even dogs and pigs ate rice and corn. But we lived looking over our shoulders, in constant fear of the police.
When we heard about life in South Korea, where our safety and identities would be guaranteed, we decided to defect once more. We were introduced to a broker, gave them some cash upfront, and traveled through Mongolia and the Gobi Desert.
On September 1st, 2006, I arrived at Incheon airport with my mom. My sister joined us in South Korea in 2008. Nine years after first crossing the Tumen River, we were finally together in freedom.
When I was in China, my only wish was that my mom, sister, and I could sleep together, eat together, and come home from work together. I dreamed that someday we could go to the supermarket and get a whole cart full of things to share. After coming to South Korea, we achieved not only that, but everything we’ve ever wanted.
I co-authored a book about my journey, A Thousand Miles to Freedom, with a foreign journalist named Sebastien Falletti. He interviewed several North Koreans, and I agreed to share my story with him out of a sense of duty. I never thought he’d choose me.
Compared to North Korean defectors who live special lives, I don’t actually dream of being a human rights activist. There are times when I don’t want to share anymore and I feel like I have to repeat myself.
But then I think about my best friend in North Korea. Her name is Sunhwa and I don’t think she’s here yet. I imagine that she would want to live like me — to attend college, pave her own way, and explore the vast world we live in. But she is still stuck in the darkness. Until Sunhwa can live a life of freedom, I feel a sense of responsibility to continue to share.
When I think of North Korea, the dark image of my hometown floods my memories. But I would still like to go back just once and visit my dad’s grave. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that he was also a victim of the North Korean regime. I have hope that in this lifetime, North Korea will open up. I’ll return with my mom and my sister, and together we’ll visit my dad’s resting place and prepare a huge meal for him.
For North Koreans to share their stories with audiences around the world, retelling and reliving some of the most harrowing experiences, is an act of exceptional courage. They’re working towards the day when others no longer have to go through the same painful experiences.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives in freedom.
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A North Korean Refugee’s Legacy of Freedom | Holly & Mia’s Story
As a little girl in North Korea, I dreamt of becoming a musician. When I was 6 years old, I saw my school teacher playing the organ. After class one day, I went up and placed my hands on the keys, trying to mimic what she played. When the teacher got back, she asked who touched the organ. All the kids looked at me and I thought I’d get in trouble, but instead of punishing me, she started teaching me how to read music. Eventually, my teacher came to my home and urged my parents to send me to Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital, to pursue music with some of the country’s best musicians.
But my parents knew I could not achieve my dream. My grandfather had been a landowner before the North Korean regime took power. When the Korean War broke out, he had fled to the South, never to be heard from again. The regime didn’t forget my family’s past - to them, we were traitors. Before I was even born, my future had been decided.
I couldn’t attend a university or get a good job. While others studied, I would have to dig for coal and sell it.
One night, I was gathering firewood on a mountain near the South Korean border with another girl. In the distance, I saw a town that was dazzlingly bright in the dark evening. Electricity is a luxury in North Korea, and I soon realized I was looking across the border. I had secretly watched South Korean movies for years. I had seen the delicious food they ate and the amazing places they traveled. I stared at the lights and dreamed of what my life could be.
The dream was too powerful to ignore. I worked every day from sunrise to sunset to save money for my escape.
I gathered rare mushrooms on the slopes of North Korea’s tallest mountain, through the bitter cold. After sixty trips, I had enough money to hire a broker to help me escape into China.
But I trusted the wrong broker.
The broker betrayed us and sold us out. Soldiers were waiting for us at the meeting point and we were dragged from the river to an interrogation cell. The secret police want you to confess that you were trying to defect to South Korea. They beat you with a stick and slam your head against a wall until you just want the pain to stop. But if you confess, you’re sent to a political prison camp to die like an animal.
So I refused to say anything. They kept beating me and screaming at me, but I closed my eyes and held on to my dream of freedom. It was two weeks before they finally sent me to a detention center.
A woman in my cell told me about another broker who could help me escape. But there was a catch - I would have to be sold to a man in China.
I chose the unimaginable. I was sold for less than $3,000.
It is hard for me to talk about this time in my life. The man who bought me kept me in a small bedroom in his house. In one month, I was pregnant. When he found out, he told me to get an abortion. I refused. He tried to drug me and take me to get an abortion while I was unconscious.
One night I felt sick and thought it was food poisoning, but I was in labor and rushed to the hospital. After twenty hours, the doctor had to perform an emergency c-section. The man who bought me complained about the extra expense.
But when I woke up, there was my beautiful baby. I put her on my chest and knew she was my everything. My new dream was to give my daughter Mia a chance to have a better life than me.
I knew we couldn’t stay in China. The man who bought me didn’t want a child, and every day we stayed was another day we could get caught. But I couldn’t take a newborn baby on the dangerous journey. I waited until Mia was one year old, making secret plans with someone who could help us escape - now I know they were part of LiNK’s rescue network.
The day of our escape finally came, and we went to a safe house. I had Mia on my back and a bag full of diapers, clothes, and a small bracelet that was a gift for her. It was everything we had. We met up with other North Koreans, and they were not happy that Mia and I were joining them. I could not blame them. There were stories about groups that were caught because of a crying baby.
Taking care of a one year old is hard enough. Doing so while avoiding the Chinese police was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I didn’t want Mia to cry so I never put her down, even when my back and arms ached from rocking her. We never stopped for more than a few hours so I had to breastfeed her along the way. Whenever we did have a break, I’d change her diapers, clean her, and make sure she ate enough. By the time I was done, we had to move again. I didn’t have time to eat so I went days with barely any food.
But every mile we traveled brought us closer to our new life. One hot morning, we climbed into a boat and crossed a river. With Mia in my arms, we were met by LiNK’s field team who welcomed us into freedom.
There are two days I will never forget. The day Mia was born and the day I arrived in the United States. I cried so much walking out of the airport. I had no idea what our new life would look like, but we were together and we were finally free.
Now when Mia falls asleep in my arms, all I feel is happiness. My story used to only be about my dreams, but now, I am watching my daughter grow into a fearless and curious person. If I never decided to escape and if I didn’t have LiNK’s help, Mia’s life would be so different. Instead of growing hungry, she has a full stomach. Instead of learning North Korean propaganda, she’s learning about science and animals and the world. Instead of fearing we could be sent to a political prison camp, I just worry she’s growing up too soon.
I believe that one day, every North Korean will be free. And every child will be able to write their own story, like my Mia.
Thanks to Holly’s bravery and the help of LiNK supporters around the world, Mia will never know a life without freedom. Holly will be leaving behind a legacy of freedom for her daughter and for generations to come.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives.
