A beautiful lake, Samil Po, lies at the foot of a high cliff in the
mountains along the east coast, just a few miles from the Demilitarized
Zone. It is a lovely spot. The water is deep and very cold. The cliffs
are covered with pine trees, rooted deeply in the stony soil. A
pavilion, perched atop the highest cliff, overlooks the lake and the
docks where I lie soaking up the late-October sun. Park has gotten a rod
and some worms and is enjoying himself fishing.
As I take in the tranquillity, I have much to ponder. My visit will soon end. Instead of the six to eight weeks I have requested, I am granted 20 days. Instead of a three-page list of places throughout the country, I get to tour only the southern half.
But I have seen much, and I have learned what is foremost in every North Korean's mind. Unification. It is a theme expressed in kindergartners' songs and dances, in the slogans of officials, in the conversations of students, workers, and farmers. Reunification of the peninsula, they say, would mean a single force of fifty million people, nourished by a deep-rooted national heritage, contributing to the economic and intellectual development of East Asia.
One after another, the North Koreans I have met express willingness to spend their life savings on reunification. When I seem skeptical, a farmer asks, "Wouldn't you give your savings to free your brothers and sisters from hunger and poverty? We think people in the South are our brothers and sisters."
Relaxing now at lakeside, I become aware of the sound of singing. I look up toward the pavilion and see uniforms. I cannot see the faces but, from the sound of their voices, these soldiers seem no older than 17 or 18. They are singing patriotic songs, one with a line something like, "We will be happy to die to protect our country against foreign invaders." Martial songs—but the singing has a strange quality to it; it sounds sad and hollow. I wonder if the youngsters are homesick.
How sad to think that these faceless young soldiers may have to sacrifice themselves if something should disturb the tenuous balance of peace. Too many tears and too much blood have already been shed by one people over a conflict in ideologies. I fervently hope these young men will never again have to fight their brothers.
On a hill not far from here a young captain fought and died, a boy of 18.
My brother.
Source: Kim, H. Edward. "Rare Look at North Korea." National Geographic, August 1974.
As I take in the tranquillity, I have much to ponder. My visit will soon end. Instead of the six to eight weeks I have requested, I am granted 20 days. Instead of a three-page list of places throughout the country, I get to tour only the southern half.
But I have seen much, and I have learned what is foremost in every North Korean's mind. Unification. It is a theme expressed in kindergartners' songs and dances, in the slogans of officials, in the conversations of students, workers, and farmers. Reunification of the peninsula, they say, would mean a single force of fifty million people, nourished by a deep-rooted national heritage, contributing to the economic and intellectual development of East Asia.
One after another, the North Koreans I have met express willingness to spend their life savings on reunification. When I seem skeptical, a farmer asks, "Wouldn't you give your savings to free your brothers and sisters from hunger and poverty? We think people in the South are our brothers and sisters."
Relaxing now at lakeside, I become aware of the sound of singing. I look up toward the pavilion and see uniforms. I cannot see the faces but, from the sound of their voices, these soldiers seem no older than 17 or 18. They are singing patriotic songs, one with a line something like, "We will be happy to die to protect our country against foreign invaders." Martial songs—but the singing has a strange quality to it; it sounds sad and hollow. I wonder if the youngsters are homesick.
How sad to think that these faceless young soldiers may have to sacrifice themselves if something should disturb the tenuous balance of peace. Too many tears and too much blood have already been shed by one people over a conflict in ideologies. I fervently hope these young men will never again have to fight their brothers.
On a hill not far from here a young captain fought and died, a boy of 18.
My brother.
Source: Kim, H. Edward. "Rare Look at North Korea." National Geographic, August 1974.
