The station was already crowded with anxious travelers pacing the terminal. A conductor said there would not be a train to Hamhung or Onsong that day due to an engine problem; some would-be travelers turned back while others decided to wait out the delay in the station. I was afraid that Seunggyu would catch me after discovering my escape, and I needed to get out of Pyongyang. Grabbing the conductor’s arm tightly, I asked him if there was no other way to get to Onsong. If I hadn’t held him I felt he would have flown away without giving me an answer.
“You can catch a car ride on the street just ask the driver to take you on board.”
“Where can I catch those cars?”
“Go to any big street, you’ll see the trucks. Try to the west, crossing the Pot’ong River.”
I made my way to Sosong Street. Pedaling furiously, I headed northwest and passed over Sosong Bridge. The layers of clothing stuck to my body and I felt heavier and heavier. On the other side of the Pot’ong River, several groups of people were gathered along Pulkun Street, on the side that would take them toward Pot’onggang Station. Each group had five or six people, all waiting to catch cars, and all carrying big bags. Some had mirrors, rice, and salt bags; others even had televisions.
Leaving the bicycle on the grass next to the road, I joined the closest group. Whenever cars passed, we waved our hands, but were ignored. Finally, one man took money from his jacket and waved it around. Soon enough, a military car stopped with a screech and a soldier asked us where we wanted to go. The car was going to Kowon, in the far east. I knew there was a station there with trains to Onsong, so I got in without hesitating, along with seven others. After checking our travel permits, the soldiers took 300 won from each of us, no matter where we were going. That was about three months’ salary for a factory laborer. Some people on the street were left behind because they wanted to go in other directions or didn’t have enough money.
The car was extremely cold, and after taking a seat, everyone took a big, crumpled plastic bag out of their packs and wrapped it around themselves. Clearly, they knew what to expect. I could hear my own teeth chattering from the cold.
The man who had waved the money looked at me sideways and gave me a grin that exposed his dark-yellow gums. “You didn’t bring a plastic bag?” he asked. He proudly adjusted his bag so that it covered his whole body from the neck down. His bag, unlike the others, had special holes for the head and arms. It seemed that he had cut the bag specifically for this purpose.
“No,” I said, avoiding his eyes.
“It’s spring, but it’s still cold, and it’ll be much colder when we climb up. Protecting yourself is the most important thing.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest.
He smiled and said, “I’ll share mine for fifty won. Come inside.”
He opened one arm and made space, pointing at it with his eyes. I didn’t want to get close to a male stranger, but it was getting colder. A middle-aged woman with a snub nose sitting in front of me was watching the exchange and snapped at him, “How dare you take her money? Be generous.”
She turned her head to me and said, “Come here. Let’s share mine, it’s big enough for two.”
I grabbed my backpack and slid in next to her; warm air from her body hung inside the plastic bag. The man glared at the woman, but said nothing.
“Is it your first time catching a car?” she asked. Her snub nose was noticeably redder than other parts of her face.
“Yes” I rubbed my hands and blew on my frozen fingers.
“What that guy said is right. You should prepare. Otherwise, it’s a perfect day to die from the cold.”
The car rocked from side to side, bumping my tailbone hard against the seat, but eventually I fell asleep, letting go of the anxiety of the last few days. It was much better inside the plastic bag, sharing the heat of two bodies in that airtight space.
“Get up, get up.”
When I opened my eyes, the others were already out of the car.
“Are we already in Kowon?” I asked the snub-nosed woman, who had taken off the plastic bag and was folding it.
“No, we’re at Majon. The car broke down with a fourth of the way left to Kowon. They’ll fix it, but they aren’t sure how long it will take.”
“What are we supposed to do? We already gave them money.” I stood up, holding my backpack.
“You can take another car or wait until they fix it. But don’t even think about getting your money back.”
“What will you do?”
She swung her backpack, which was much bigger than mine, onto her back and clutched a pumpkin-shaped knapsack and a small mirror under her arm. “There is a street market close by—I’ll go there and sell my goods. You can have a meal there and wait until they fix the car.” She headed off to the right with nothing more to say.
As the passengers scattered, I asked a soldier who was smoking outside when he thought we’d be moving again, and he answered gruffly, “We don’t know, not long, but not before night. Come back after dinner.” The group of soldiers headed to the street market, leaving one to fix the car. He looked not more than 16 and seemed not to know what he was doing. I followed the group to the market.
So many smells emanated from the food stalls! My stomach gurgled at the smell of steamed sweet potatoes and egg breads and corn nuts fried in the pan. There were several groups of kkot-jebi in the market. When they rushed past me, I had to breathe with my mouth, not my nose. I tried to find the people from the car. I saw the soldiers teasing a young woman in her food stall. She brought dishes to them with a coquettish smile, and some of them tried to touch her body. She didn’t complain at all, but her face twisted as she got past them.
Two would be better than one, I thought, so I looked around the market for the snub-nosed woman. I accidentally bumped into a man coming from the other direction.
“Watch out!” he spat. “Are your eyes just for decoration?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, lowering my head several times.
He grabbed my right arm. “If I was hurt just now, what would you do?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“How do I know you didn’t mean it? Are you trying to mess with me?” he demanded, eying me skeptically.
“Sir, I was looking for my friend, and I was distracted. Forgive me.”
I was scared by his reaction, and tried to wriggle my arm out of his grasp. He said, “Be careful next time,” and rushed off.
I met the eyes of an old female merchant who was selling underwear in different colors. She looked at me first and then her eyes deliberately followed the path of the man. When I followed her glance, I saw him walking away with several men. I removed my backpack and saw that the bottom was half-torn and some of my clothes were pushing out through the hole. I scrambled to look inside; the gray sock where I put my money was gone. I had hidden my money in two socks and sewed them into the bottom of the backpack. I grabbed the torn part and ran in the direction he had gone, crying, “Thief, Thief! Catch him.”
I pushed people aside in my dash to catch him, but he was gone. I spun around, crying out for help, but no one even looked at me; I was the only stranger in that place.
I returned to the car and found the boy soldier groaning.
“Can you fix it today?” I asked him.
“I’m trying.” His face and shirt were soaked with sweat, even on the chilly day. I crouched down next to him as he worked.
My thoughts raced. Did I have to go back? No! I couldn’t. Where should I go? I had left Pyongyang and lost half of my money within a few hours. What worse luck was waiting for me? I was as miserable as the boy soldier.
Several hours later, the group of soldiers came back sluggishly, picking their teeth with toothpicks. When they saw that the boy soldier still hadn’t figured out how to repair the car, they kicked him several times. “You good-for-nothing!” they yelled, throwing two loaves of bread to him. He picked them up from the ground nimbly and devoured them without even dusting them off.