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This is a story that I have told many times, but I never lose interest in it: My paternal grandfather was a wealthy doctor in the region of current day Pyongyang, North Korea before the outbreak of the Korean war. His wife and nine children resided on the upper floors of a hospital where he worked, and he was also the owner of the building. On Sept, 9, 1945, the Japanese, who had occupied the territory for a few decades, surrendered to the US with the help of Russian forces. In a mutual agreement, the country was split at the 38th parallel, with Russia gaining control of the north, and the US handling the south. Typical of the calm yet ominous timeframe preceding the breaking point of war, a great brain drain began between the north and the south. Those fearing the influence of Western capitalism fled the southern peninsula, and others unsupportive of communism attempted to defect into the south. Grandfather Han sold his hospital and most of his belongings to gather a considerable wad of cash to bribe Russian officials, who secretly agreed to escort his family into the south in military tanks. My grandfather's brother opposed this idea. It was well-known that many officials would simply turn-in defectors and keep the money. The risk was huge, but this was the only window of opportunity for such a large family to escape before major combat began. My grandfather, his wife, children, and mother split into groups and escaped in three separate tanks taking three different routes into Seoul. What of his brother and his brother's family? They were never heard of again. By June 26, 1950, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea Army (North Korea) opened fire on the south, completely sealing the 38th Parallel, with soldiers from both sides using it as a war front. The Korean war had now officially begun. In this family portrait, dated by hand as 1949, my grandfather (white coat and tie on the left) stands next to his brother in front of the hospital where they lived and worked. Why was this portrait taken? Perhaps to record the family one last time in front of their home that they would be fleeing. Perhaps it was for purposes of historical posterity. Or was it more of an emotional gesture, two brothers, two plans, with the knowledge that they may never see each other again.
Several years later, this second portrait was made in South Korea, with the new home in the background. Nine people are missing in this latter portrait. Grandfather has aged somewhat, with great grandmother's hair now completely white. There's also a new baby in the family (my father). I wonder if a special occasion or anniversary triggered the making of this photograph. Both were passed down through the generations, and although I do not possess the originals, I have copies.
All of this family visual history, narrated by personal accounts in my grandfather's memoirs have made me utterly fascinated with North Korea, and how it has developed (or rather degenerated) over the years. I am considered the most offendable kind of candidate to travel there (American nationality and of South Korean parents). My entry into the country is forbidden. However, I want to see this bizarro land that somehow is responsible for where and who I am today. I read travel accounts of those who do enter this mysterious land, and one day I hope I can see it for myself. The leader has sculpted delusions into national monuments, ridiculous museums of self-homage, and even television programs dedicated to the proper national hair-cut. My family's history coupled with growing up in Skokie, Illinois (also a repository of Jewish Holocaust survival stories) has definitely interested me in Germany (my current residence), also a nation of borders and separation. Yet, today it is a symbol of hope in some ways for Koreans who long to be reunified. According to the national Korean newspaper, JoongAng Daily, "1,400 North Koreans defected to South Korea last year, raising the total number of dfectors to the South since the end of the 1950-53 Korean War to 8,000." (Jan 20, 2006) Oh, North Korea, I pine for thee. |
