She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. It’s not serious, I’m just old. Old people are slower to recover than you kids—I’ll be fine in a few days.”
Glancing quickly at me, she said to Sangwon, “She’s a new face.”
Sangwon answered delightedly, “She’s my mom.”
I didn’t say anything, but smiled at her and at Sangwon in turn.
Grandmother didn’t ask anything more; she lay down again and muttered to herself, “Helping each other is good. Anyway, it’s a long road to survive here.”
As night fell outside, people returned to the cave one by one. Some recognized Sangwon and said hello, others didn’t know him and didn’t care. “Is it your first time?” they asked, or, “Do you have some money to exchange for food?”
Quietly, Sangwon explained to me how the people in the cave lived. When the sun came up, some would go to town to work or to beg for food or money, while others would climb into the mountains to look for food.
The cave seemed to be about a hundred meters deep, and it stayed cold no matter how warm it was outside. To be safe, we couldn’t start a fire, so plastic bags kept us warm as we slept.
Every night, two people took turns acting as lookouts in front of the cave. If some people staying in the cave didn’t show up for a night or two, it meant that they were arrested on the outside, or had moved on to another place.
We were quiet and kept to ourselves. Some people cooked together, others cooked separately. They had learned to cook rice in a special way in order not to be caught by the police; it was called “cooking rice underground.” You put uncooked rice in a plastic bag with water or snow, and bury it, and then light a fire on the ground with branches of bush clover. This was one of the strategies people had learned in their guerilla training, so living in the mountains wasn’t difficult for them. We exchanged information about how to survive. What the men had learned from their mandatory ten years of military duty in the service of the nation was now extending our lives outside of it.
The night Sangwon and I arrived, both of us collapsed. His leg swelled so that he couldn’t walk. His fever spiked. We slept for several days like dead people.
Three or four days must have passed. We were able to get some food from the others, and at least the seclusion made me feel safe.
Early one morning, Sangwon woke me up and said, “Sister, I’ll go to town today.”
I looked around and saw that some people were already preparing to go out. I thought I should stop him. “Not yet, Sangwon, your leg needs more rest.” I rubbed his calf. It was still swollen, and bruises covered his thigh.
“No-see?” He rose to his feet and swiftly walked back and forth, wobbling a little bit. His leg actually looked much better. “I don’t have any problem walking now,” he insisted. “I know my body, I’m really much better. I’ll bring some food today—we also owe food to the ones who shared with us.”
I got halfway up and said, “I’ll go with you.”
He pushed me back down. “You need to rest another day or two. Then we’ll go to town together and I’ll show you around. I’m going to get some garlic in town—if you chew three raw garlic cloves three times a day, your cold will go away.”
Sangwon followed others out of the cave, and I lay down again and looked up at the ceiling. I felt relieved. If I hadn’t met that small boy, what would have happened to me?
In the afternoon, Grandmother asked me to go find something we could eat in the mountains. She seemed to have recovered from her injuries.
“Sangwon will bring some food,” she said. “He’s really smart. In the town, he even has his regular fans who give food or money only to him.”
I was feeling much better, and I thought Sangwon would be happy if I too found some vegetables or fruits to eat. I put our belongings away in the corner and prepared to leave.
Following several women who remained, I crawled out through the mouth of the cave and emerged into blinding sunshine. I squinted instinctively, but the warmth felt so good it seemed to flow through me. As my eyes adjusted, I felt the cool air. I glanced up at the sky for a second and then back at the mouth of the cave. From the outside you would never notice the entrance; it was the perfect place for us to hide.
I turned and found a strange man staring at me, with several others behind him. There was a brief silence, and then he said something I couldn’t understand.
The women behind me in the cave cried out, “Run away, run away! The Chinese police have come!”
The strangers rushed toward us. The man who had stared at me tried to grab me. I pushed him and ran, jumping into the nearest bushes. Resting for several days inside the cave had made my legs weak, and I stumbled as I tried to pick up speed. Screams echoed behind me. Sangwon always said I should run without looking back, so I ran straight ahead. I felt my chest expanding unbearably. I pulled back my head to lessen the pressure on my chest, but I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I was dying, yet I ran and ran. When I could run no farther, I tumbled onto the ground.
Exhausted and out of breath, I grabbed on to some weeds and firmly closed my eyes. If they find me, they will beat me, I thought. If they try to stand me up, I won’t move at all. This place will be my grave. I felt gooseflesh all over my back. I was too scared to move, even to turn my head.
I remembered the night my sister and I were walking in the forest. We were startled and ran home, terrified that something was following us. My grandfather had always warned us not to be outside so late. He frightened us, telling us that ghosts might catch us from behind and have us for dinner. In the years I had spent dancing for the festival and working at the hotel, the memory of my youth in the mountains had faded. Sometimes I felt it was another lifetime, or perhaps only a dream. But all at once the terror of that night with my sister returned. I squeezed the weeds with all my might, as I had my sister’s hand.
I kept myself flat on the ground for many minutes, but nothing happened. No yelling voices, no footsteps. After a while, I turned my head and felt a tranquil wind against my cheek. Above me I saw the wide sky, the trees, the flying leaves. The sun was blazing. I breathed slowly, watching the sky. A swarm of large dragonflies flitted about. The grass was silent, save for the pounding of my heart.
It took me hours to return the way I had run. I found footprints where I had trampled the grass, but they soon disappeared. I looked for familiar landmarks, but I hadn’t been outside the cave since my arrival. I was lost. It was still day, but in the mountains nobody could guess when darkness would fall. I hoped I wasn’t too far from the cave.
I looked around me. The wind was chilly in the mountains, but I felt spring had arrived in earnest. Everywhere the trees were green with new growth. I tried to walk in a straight line, but I couldn’t be sure I was going the right way. I prayed I might run into someone returning from town, but I encountered no one. I heard the sound of water flowing in the distance.
Eventually, the sky turned completely dark, and I couldn’t see two paces in front of me. I wondered if I should stop for the night. I stood still, afraid to move and afraid not to move.
So many people escaped to China only to land in more trouble than before, spending every moment in fear, worrying for their safety. The darkness of the mountains engulfed me. What ani I looking for in this strange place? I wondered. Where are my friends?
Each question led to another. My strength and desire were gone. I didn’t have a destination. Other people had goals. Some people, after getting to China, tried desperately to travel onward to other, safer countries. Others wanted to return to North Korea with money and food. What were my goals? Right now I was looking for the cave. But after that? What do I seek here?