Chapter 1 - Life
Jeung Kang awoke in his house with a start. Well, technically, it's a hut that he's living in. The radio was still blaring the same dull speech of freedom and patriotism, but Jeung had heard that before. He slowly sat up, avoiding the morning-hunger head rush. He walked over unsteadily to his dresser (nothing more than a cardboard box; but Jeung did not mind, for it kept his things safer than laying them out inside) and pulled out his pants, a thin shirt, and his work hat.
Bang bang bang! Jeung looked up at his door. The guards were waking them up again today with a ferocity that has never been seen before. "Open up!" a guard yells at through the door. Jeung goes to open it, but the door bursts open anyway as a group of guards storm in, tearing up his sheets off of the ground and moving the small bamboo furniture. "Okay men," said the oldest guard, "he has no contraband." The guard looks at Jeung, who looks back timidly with his eyes cast upon the ground. "Weak." the guard says, and spat on the ground. As they turned around in a tight formation, Jeung burned with the desire to retaliate. But what use would that be, as anyone who retaliates against the government of North Korea would surely die.
Jeung walked outside and met Kyun, his neighbor to the hut next door. "Hello Kyun. How was your sleep?" Jeung said to Kyun. "Terrible," Kyun replied. "I couldn't sleep because of…" he hushed his voice. He looked around, and furiously whispered "my hunger." "I understand. The pangs of hunger that I feel throughout the day are vicious and terrible. But at least we are not old and frail; then we would die." Kyun nodded in agreement. Jeung could vividly see his frailness; Kyun's cheekbones poking through, his hollow cheeks and eye sockets. It was maddening.
It was all maddening. Not being able to say anything. Not being able to speak about politics, about the poor, about the government. But that is how the game was played in North Korea; keep your head down, don't get shot, and die quietly in your sleep. Because we are all puppets, suspended by the chains of freedom.