A River in Darkness: One Man's Escape from North Korea

by Masaji Ishikawa

From my perspective, there wasn’t much difference between a socialist movement, a nationalist movement, and a brutal brawl in the black market. All of these people had a couple of things in common. They all had their own personal histories in Japan—and they were all poor. They just wanted to assert their own existence.

Suddenly, nationality and background meant everything. And in this new hierarchy, my father was nothing. He had no family connections by birth. Worse, he was Korean. That

the mass repatriation was great news for both governments—the perfect win-win situation for everyone except the real human beings involved.

Less than twenty-four hours earlier, they’d happily eaten our food and gotten drunk on the alcohol my father had bought. Now they totally changed their tune.

finally realized that he’d never experienced true freedom.

Three criteria determined your caste: your birth and background, your perceived loyalty to the party, and your connections.

“The son of a farmer must be a farmer. That’s the way it is in this country.

If you suffer long enough, it almost becomes funny, and you can find yourself laughing at the most miserable situations. I guess it’s a kind of hysteria.

And I came to recognize that, no matter how difficult the reality, you mustn’t let yourself be beaten. You must have a strong will. You have to summon what you know is right from your innermost depths and follow it.

We were on the verge of starvation, but the bonds of family love remained intact.