

A North Korean defector wipes away tears during a press conference, urging the Chinese government to stop repatriating North Korean defectors in front of the Chinese Embassy in Seoul on Feb. 21. / Yonhap This is the fifth and final article in a series highlighting China’s repatriation of North Korean defectors and the ordeal they have to go through if they are returned to their homeland.― ED.



By Darren Southcott



LONDON ― The call by South Korea for the international community to increase protection for North Korean refugees in China has again highlighted the stark plight of this oft-neglected group.



As covered by the Korea Times last week, increasingly the United Kingdom is seen as favored destination for refugees, yet the situation there is stark and brings its own challenges.



Refugees are often forcibly settled in small towns, isolated from support networks in London. It is left to concerned individuals to connect isolated refugees to the larger community in London, providing supplies, news and comfort. One such individual is Pastor Kim, a South Korean living in London.



“I have heard the dangers they face...they remain traumatized, fearful and untrusting of strangers...they are alone in the community, so I try to be a friendly face they can see at least once a week,” he said. “They are distrustful of authority and strangers. I try to build trust so I can help as much as possible.”



The pastor travels weekly to meet the refugees in northern England, amid the rows of industrial terraced housing. Living invisibly, but stoically, refugees build a new life against the odds.



The pastor’s first visit is to “Mr Jeong,” living in a modest house in a down-at-heel town. The pastor settles down in his sitting room, surrounded by proud pictures of Jeong’s hanbok-clad children. His family’s plight has done little to improve his torture-induced heart problems.



“We are targeted by kids in the local area,” Jeong said. “We are isolated and have no friends around here and my son has been bullied at school. Look, I’m even losing hair through the stress!”



Finding comfort in cooking, he provides a banquet of Korean delicacies which reveals his skills as a talented chef. Such a feast would surely be unimaginable back in the North.



“We lived through so much hardship while in North Korea and close family members died. These memories stay with us and we want to enjoy every meal to its fullest,” he said.



He hopes to open a restaurant when his condition improves and his son displays the academic excellence that seems to be a trait shared either side of the DMZ.



“He is top of his class in both English and Maths, despite only being here three years. I am very proud of him and all of my family. I do not want us to be a burden on anyone and once I am able to I want to work and provide for all of them,” he insisted.



Upon leaving, the spirit of resilience and diligence lingered as the pastor moved on to the next town, again nestled amongst post-industrial moorland.



The next visit was to “Mr. Ko,” living in a temporary center for refugees a few miles down the road. It did not take long for the realities of refugee life to be brought home.



“I’m not sure why, but ￡10 is coming out of my account every month. I tried to have it cancelled at the bank, but it is still coming out,” he said. “This is a large amount of money for me.”



Kim was sure that fraud was taking place and explained that this was not the first setback Ko had experienced since leaving North Korea. “He has lost everything close to him and he wants to start his life afresh. I try to bring him food to keep him healthy. You can see by his condition that he rarely eats,” the pastor said.



Coming from relative privilege in North Korea, Ko’s furrowed brow hints at his silent trauma. Although nothing can compare to the persecution suffered at home, the transition to the United Kingdom had brought its own problems.



“There is nothing I can do at the moment but wait, which makes me feel isolated. There are no other Koreans for support, but I am thankful for the pastor’s trips to see me,” he said.



Anonymous amid widespread poverty in the town, the loneliness only increased as the pastor reluctantly rose to leave. The regret was palpable and Ko was handed a bag of tortilla crisps – “man-ee du-se-yo,” pleaded Kim.



The last visit was to one of the larger northern cities, which, having been knee-capped by the financial crisis, was dotted with derelict properties. We turned down an eerily quiet row of terraces, before spotting some young children playing colorfully on the pavement.



“They’re here, they’re here,” the children shouted, as they ran to fetch their mom and grandmother. The children excitedly giggled as they greeted the arrival of their pastor friend.



The subdued clouds of the previous visits seemed to lift as Kim began to lead the hymn-singing once inside. It was clear that despite their isolation they had found togetherness in each other and their religion. Immaculately dressed, the children were clearly a source of immense pride for the family.



“We have left behind so much misery that we are so happy to have been given this chance to start again,” the grandmother, Song, said. “The United Kingdom seemed like a mythical place to me before – it was completely unreal to us. Now I am here I am thankful for everything.”



It seemed that hope for the future helped to alleviate the pain of the flight from their homeland.



“We just want to make a happy life for our children now. The people here have been so kind to us, and we are so grateful. Our boy is in nursery school now and we can really see a future for ourselves here. After what we came from it is hard to imagine where we are now,” she said.



From time to time the memories flood back and over coffee Mrs Song broke down, recalling the nightmares that keep her awake at night. Shaken to the core, she remained strong.



“After what we have witnessed, we have no fear anymore; that is what keeps us going,” she said.



Darren Southcott is a contributing writer for The Korea Times. He recently earned his master’s degree in human rights from the University of London. Southcott lives in London.