A Thousand Miles to Freedom (14 page)

That same situation happened only two more times during the hours that we were on the road. There weren't exactly a lot of people in the desert. Each time we saw lights in the distance, we held our breath. The driver, visibly tense, immediately hid on the side of the road, all lights turned off. Luckily, both times this happened, the car that rolled by contained neither police nor border guards, which meant we could continue on our mysterious journey through the night. We would continue along the Mongolian border until we found the safest passageway.

*   *   *

After three hours on the road, our smugglers became more talkative. They explained in more detail what we were to expect. I understood that we were approaching a critical moment in our journey. I had butterflies in my stomach. For the first time, one of the two smugglers spoke to us in a gentle tone:

“Listen to me carefully. We are close to the border with Mongolia. When we arrive at the place that we know, you have to get out of the car and follow my instructions. Don't worry, we'll be right there beside you. We chose a very remote area where few people go. There will be a tall fence that you have to climb over. That's the Chinese border, guarded intermittently by patrolmen. We will help you climb it. When you land on the other side all you have left to do is go straight forward, as fast as possible. You will reach a second fence, which marks the entrance into Mongolian territory. Once you make it past the second barrier, you will be saved! The Chinese police will no longer have any power to arrest you. Understood?”

“And then? What will happen to us afterward?” asked one of our companions, very timidly.

The man replied, “Once you are on the other side, all you need to do is to give yourself up to the Mongolian army. They will transfer you to the South Korean embassy, in the capital city of Ulan Bator. There, the South Korean diplomats will take care of your transfer to Seoul. You will be safe there. Mongolia and South Korea have signed an agreement to send all North Korean escapees like you to South Korea. It will be fine!”

The smuggler was trying to reassure us right before we took off for a critical moment. The last thing he wanted was for us to start panicking when we were so close to the end. But his explanations, even if I appreciated them, didn't assuage my fears.

In the passenger side of the car, our anxiety was palpable. We knew that as soon as we crossed the first barrier, these men would take off with our money. We would have to manage by ourselves. And if we were arrested by the Chinese border police, then it was just too bad for us. They would have kept up their end of the bargain. And they would try this same operation again in a few weeks with other escapees. I still wasn't sure I completely trusted these men, who seemed motivated only by money. We couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

*   *   *

After five hours, the driver slowed down and scrutinized the surrounding area and then turned off the ignition. It was three o'clock in the morning.

“Here we are,” said the man.

He motioned for us to get out of the car, making sure we didn't make any noise.

It was really cold outside. It was May, but the night air was already very cool. In the darkness, I could distinguish some rocks and dirt, and then a tall, wooden stake. In front of us, there was a fence three meters tall. It was nicknamed the “green line” due to the color of the wooden stakes that ran along the border between Mongolia and China. The smugglers explained that they had chosen this spot because patrols were infrequent. But we still didn't have a minute to lose. The two men hoisted us up, one by one, over the barrier. The fence was quite tall, but I didn't have time to be scared. I was small and light and climbed the fence like a monkey, using the chain link like a ladder. My heart was racing. At the top of the fence, I paused for a moment to catch my breath and then climbed back down on the other side.

When my foot touched the ground, I didn't have any time to rejoice. I was too scared that a police officer would appear at any moment. I was even more scared because I sensed the nervousness of our smugglers on the other side of the fence. They didn't want to waste any time here, where they too were at risk for getting arrested. Since I was the youngest, I had to wait for my companions, who were heavier and less agile than I was and struggled a bit to climb the fence. Minutes passed, minutes that seemed to drag on forever. We had to hurry, because the most difficult part of our journey still remained: we had to reach the Mongolian border.

“Now run straight ahead! Get as far away as possible from China,” whispered one of the smugglers. Shortly after, he disappeared through the darkness.

*   *   *

And so began our mad run. The five of us bolted like we were being chased by an invisible monster. In front of me, the land seemed to move up and down as my feet sank into the sand. We ran and ran without looking back. We had to cross this no-man's-land as fast as possible to get to the Mongolian border, which was several miles away. As we weren't there yet, a Chinese policeman could bust us at any moment.

For an entire hour, we ran until we were out of breath. My mind was blank, concentrating only on reaching our destination. My breaths were short; we didn't speak to one another. My eyes started adjusting to the darkness, so I was able to distinguish the shapes—rocks and hills—in the distance. We were in the middle of the desert, an arid, desolate landscape that I'd never seen anywhere else before. Behind us, the sun seemed to already be rising. The time was passing by quickly and there was still nothing in sight. Could we be lost? I thought back to what the two men had told us:

“Go straight ahead!”

But how did we know whether we were going straight or not? There was no path to follow in this desert.

When we couldn't run anymore, we started walking. Finally, I was able to distinguish something through the dark. Something man-made. It was a sign placed on top of a cement base. On the side of the sign that we could see, there were sloppily painted Chinese characters that read “
Zhongguo
,” which means “China.” On the other side there was something very messily written. I tried to decipher the gibberish and was able to make sense of only one word. I wasn't 100 percent sure, but I felt pretty confident that it said “Mongolia.” What a relief! We were heading the right way. I caught my breath while waiting for the others. I was young, so I could walk fast, but for my mom and the others, it wasn't so easy.

I showed them what I'd found. But we weren't safe yet. As long as we hadn't crossed the Mongolian border, we were still at the mercy of the Chinese. And so we started running again, under a sky that was steadily growing brighter and brighter. How much longer would it take? Had the smugglers tricked us?

Finally, I stumbled upon what we were waiting for. In front of me was a fence, considerably shorter and in much worse condition than the one at the Chinese border. It matched the description that the smugglers had given us. We had no doubt; it was the Mongolian border! We had reached our goal. It was all the sweeter because this fence was not as tall as the Chinese one. Like spiders, we climbed as quickly as we could until we reached the top. After scaling the top, I clambered down the other side of the dilapidated fence.

I felt an immense relief. I relaxed for a moment and caught my breath. A massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

In a few minutes, the others made it over the fence as well. In that moment, we felt united by a strong sense of solidarity. The other three women, who were highly religious, wanted to say grace to God. They took us by our hands and we formed a circle. The three of them praised Jesus out loud. For the first time in my life, I prayed. I felt overwhelmed by what we had gone through. Lost in the immensity of the desert, we were just a tiny, insignificant circle of people, but at least we had one another. Since I'm not religious, I stayed silent, but in my head I prayed that everything would go well.

During this time, daylight started to seep in around us, and I saw that our desert environs were quite majestic. It was five o'clock in the morning. The sun lit up the sand and the toffee-colored rocks. The horizon was empty, interspersed with rocky hills. The landscape was both marvelous and nerve-racking.

Later, in Seoul, while researching online, I would learn that we were in the Gobi Desert, one of the most arid deserts in the world. But at the time I didn't know that; I had no understanding of geography. Our sole objective was to march straight forth and surrender ourselves to the Mongolian army. It had been explained to us that they would transfer us to the South Korean embassy, because South Korea had signed an agreement with Mongolia to send defectors from North Korea to Seoul. We were about to find out if that was true.

*   *   *

For the moment, our priority was simply to survive in the desert, since we had no provisions. The smugglers had given us each a bottle of water and a sausage link. Officially, the provisions were meager so that we wouldn't get weighed down during our trek, and because, according to them, we would quickly meet the hospitable Mongolians. But I was dubious. Where did we go now? Luckily, behind the fence, we stumbled upon a road. Finally, we would find civilization. All we had to do was follow it, and we'd surely find a village and people.

But after three hours of walking, we still hadn't seen a soul, and we started to feel doubtful, still traveling under the blisteringly hot sun. Were we on the right path? I was convinced that we were, but a few of the women weren't quite so sure and wanted to turn back. At that moment, my gut was telling me to keep going straight forward, so I told the others that I'd go ahead and scout things out.

In front of the group, I advanced through the gravel, and soon, through the blinding sunlight, I made out what looked to be a hut hidden in the desolate landscape. I was just about to go inform the others of my discovery, when all of a sudden, two uniformed men riding horses appeared. Seeing their horses, I no longer had any doubt: we were in Mongolia. I didn't know much about this country, but I knew that it had steppes and warriors on horses who had conquered China a long time ago, under the guidance of their leader Genghis Khan. Even the Chinese were afraid of these terrifying horsemen and bowed in their presence. In China, I had never seen border guards on horses. I was definitely in Mongolia. It was quite the sight. The men were almost as big as their horses. They galloped, whirled, and seemed resistant to the harsh climate of Mongolia, from the scorching summers to the harsh winters of negative thirty degrees Celsius (less than negative twenty Fahrenheit).

The two of them must have spotted me from afar. They quickly galloped over to our group. I was right: they were Mongolian soldiers. According to what I'd been told, they should not have been hostile. Yet the encounter did not go well. They searched all of us very roughly. They were clearly looking for money. Having found none, one of them started threatening us: “Give us all your cash, or else we'll send you straight back to the Chinese guards!”

I was quite worried, even if I wasn't sure I believed their blackmail. I had a sense they were taking their chances on us, seeing if they could pull the wool over our eyes. But they didn't look like they were ready to follow through. Especially since they had nothing to gain by taking us back to the Chinese border, which was several hours away. Besides, the smugglers had told us that there wasn't an agreement between China and Mongolia requiring Mongolia to send back North Koreans. What would the guards at the Chinese border do with five miserable North Koreans anyway? They already had a hard enough time patrolling the “green line.” They wouldn't want to worry about us; we would just be an extraneous burden. These soldiers were bluffing. I stood my ground, but it was our three companions who would get things under control, and in quite the unexpected way.

Our three comrades finally succeeded in cajoling these two horsemen thanks to their supplies … of cosmetics! Like good Koreans, they had brought tubes of creams and lotions, and they convinced these wretched soldiers with cracked and dirty hands of their beneficial effects on the skin. In Korea, skin quality is considered the first attribute of beauty for a woman. As soon as we had earned a bit of money in China, we had bought tubes and boxes of cosmetics to pamper ourselves and protect our skin. But we never would have thought to bring them with us across the desert. Our travel companions hadn't forgotten their makeup supplies, even for a perilous journey such as this one.

Satisfied with their new acquisitions, the officers locked us up temporarily in their barracks, where we waited the entire afternoon without knowing what was going to happen to us. And then, at night, a military vehicle tumbled in from the horizon, followed by a long trail of dust that floated up into the immense sky. This truck was obviously sent for us. Our Mongolian jailers were going to deliver us to the army.

The vehicle took us to a military base, which was also in the desert. There, the soldiers hid us away in a basement, in a building in the middle of nowhere, without giving us any explanation.

In this basement, I found women, children, and the elderly. Including us, there were a total of eighteen North Koreans who had tried to cross the desert in the last few days. We were no longer alone: we were part of an ever-growing group of refugees in search of liberty. It was reassuring to be part of such a group, even if we were still in captivity.

*   *   *

For two weeks, we stayed there. The only things to eat were foul-smelling soup and fermented milk, which the Mongolians loved but that I quickly learned to hate. I had never missed
kimchi
so much before. No Korean can go for more than a few days without this spicy cabbage, fermented for several weeks in jars with red spices. Foreigners have a hard time getting used to this food that sets your mouth on fire and has a very strong taste. But for the Korean people, rice, meat, and vegetables are so bland without
kimchi
. It's as addictive as a drug, really. In the middle of that desert, I longed for my roots. And since I am a gastronome, I take deep pride in our national dish. I have survived through famines and situations that were much worse, but there, in that forsaken country where we didn't know what was to become of us, it was the lack of
kimchi
that would bother me the most.