“Let morning shine on the silver and gold of this land,

This is my beautiful fatherland.

Let us devote our bodies and minds

To supporting this Korea forever.

Nest for the spirit of labour,

Let us glorify forever this Korea,

Limitlessly rich and strong.”

Jung Soojung in her childhood, was just like any other child. Playful, cheerful and just plain happy. A joy to have around. Those who knew her used to say that she was able to bring a smile on their faces by watching her naïve, child-like brightness. But there was a fault. There was something in her that was characteristic for a child, yet it would not serve her any good. She was curious. She had a curiosity in her that was considered unhealthy. What set her apart from the average child was not that trait, but something that she didn't choose. What set her apart was the fact that she was born in People's Democratic Republic of Korea, or simply known and referred to by the most common person as North Korea.

Her childhood was no different from any other child's, it had just a few minuses. She didn't have as many toys, she did not have a whole lot of friends, food was scarce, but other than that, it was no different. Maybe excepting one aspect. Many families in North Korea are not able to afford education for their children. A poor country, schools require students to provide their own desks and chair and considering that many families struggle with making money and putting food on the table, not all of them are able to get education for their children. Soojung's family was not much different, but they wanted to offer their daughter the best they could, they wanted her to get at least the most basic schooling and actually succeeded in keeping her in school for more than just the basic four classes. Although eleven classes were compulsory in North Korea, many parents secretly pulled their children out of school, not being able to provide the money that was needed for schooling. Soojung was just a bit luckier. Although school was different than what the average Western person would perceive as education. They learnt about their Dear Leader, about the glorious “Eternal President” Kim Ilsung, the genius that Kim Jongil was and the glory and prosperity of their country that was the envy of all nations. They sang patriotic songs, learnt facts about the three important state figures, knew their biography like the back of their hand. History was rewritten. It was made in such a way to portray the South and the U.S.A as evil, corrupted countries who only wished the worst upon the glory that People's Democratic Republic of Korea was.

During her school years, Soojung had made a friend. He was a boy and his name was Daeryong. Although children at that time, she had noticed that something about him was off. He wasn't paying attention in class, he was fidgeting around, nothing seemed to interest him, but she never asked him about it, she thought that he was simply that kind of person that could not concentrate for too long on something, that got bored pretty quickly, not to mention he would sometimes miss a day or two of school.

Soojung's curiosities slowly faded. Indeed the education she was given in her school years was doing it's job perfectly. It was slowly brainwashing her, filling her mind with unnecessary information, with false facts and with hatred towards other nations while teaching her love for the country, the regime and the Dear Leader. It would have molded her into the perfect citizen, into the animated object that the government would want to have and would cherish, a perfect example for the others to follow. Maybe she would have even been given a flat in Pyongyang along with her family, they had never done something wrong, they had never made any offense, they had never been a bother to the regime, they had never been seen as a threat, their bloodline was pure. Had it not been for that one faithful day.

The village would rarely gather, and when it did, it meant that something had happened or something was going to happen and that usually meant something bad. That day it was no different. Something was definitely wrong, but it was going to be taken care of. The regime was going to get rid of yet another traitor, it was going to punish yet another crime committed against the state. In his late sixties, a man had tried to cross the border during mid summer. When it came to crossing the border to China, many North Koreans preferred the winter season, when the river would be frozen and easier to pass, but he could not risk getting hurt and tried to swim through it instead. A grave mistake. He had been caught and was now going to pay the price for his injustice, for his crime. He was going to pay with his life.

Those were the rules. If you were to go against the nation or the regime, you would have to be punished, depending on how grave the crime was, but when that meant that the border was attempted to be crossed, it meant certain death. Definitely, badmouthing was not going to bring a lighter punishment, depending again on how bad it was. If lucky, maybe one would get away with just a sanction and very little to no privileges at all, but in most of the cases, it meant being sent to a labor camp, which in it's own meant certain death, except it was slow. Painful. Secretive. Once sent in a labor camp, it was almost certain that one would not return, they were never to be heard of. But the death brought by trying to run away was public. It was shameful. The deeds were announced to anyone who was around, to any passerby, and if it happened that the culprit was from a smaller village, their family was condemned to be marginalized, never trusted. From a bad seed, nothing good could sprout. The death would be quick, caused by firing squad, but the moments before it were horrible and the family was forced to watch.

And that man had a family. He had a daughter and two sons, but after each married, only the daughter remained in the village, the other two had left off after being offered better working places in the country's capital. They were going to return to the village though, that was how things worked. Only the elite, only the most healthy and only the most trusted of citizens could live in Pyongyang. If one was no longer deemed worthy of the city, they would be forced to leave, without a care from anyone as to where they would live and work from that moment on. People's Democratic Republic of Korea was definitely a place of self-reliance. One had to get around with their own muscle and brain.

But he also had a granddaughter. She was his only grandchild, at least that was what he knew. He hadn't spoken to his two sons in ages, he just knew that they were in Pyongyang, living a better life than they would have had in the countryside and he couldn't condemn them, a better life was what everyone wanted but only a select few could have. He loved his granddaughter with all his might, with all his being, she was on his mind even in the last few moments when he was swimming the waters, attempting to cross to a land of the better. He felt horrible for not being able to take her with him, to take his family, he felt like the most selfish human being, but once he had stepped foot into those water, there was no turning back. If only he could have done something about it, if only he could have taken his family with him, if only he hadn't slipped on those rocks...

His hands were tied behind his back, his wrists tightened together with worn out rope. His expression was tired and pained, traces of torture were present, he wasn't so easily let go of once he was caught. Only he knew the pain of the beating he went through, of the correction he was applied, despite the outcome. He was shamed not only by the soldiers present, but also the crowd. It was so easy to jump in the same bandwagon and do what the others were doing. Once a witness had started throwing a small pebble and spitting on the poor man, soon the others continued, the pebbles slowly turning into larger stones. Oh, how easy it was to be a sheep in such a crowd. Only one or two handfuls of people watched the scene rather terrified, hesitant to intervene and to make a move. They preferred to be distant, to keep to themselves, they did not want to create an offense, but in the same time, they did not want to be part of the crowd, they did not want to be like the others. Among those who managed to remain strong and faithful to their human side was the family of the man. The daughter, the son-in-law and most importantly, his granddaughter.

Soojung did not understand. It wasn't that she did not understand what was happening or most importantly did not understand the reason, she did, she knew that her grandfather had done something wrong, he had went against the nation, he had committed what was probably the biggest of offenses and he was now paying, but she did not understand why. Why did he try to cross the border. Why would he? The nation was prosperous, glorious, to be part of it and work for the nation meant to be proud. At least, that was what she was taught and despite her initial curiosity and doubt, she believed it. She swallowed it and went on, she was just a child, what was she to do when at that age, how could she understand such matters?

She was the only one who was quiet, the only one who kept to herself, though every now and then she was tugging at her mother's hand, asking her why. Did not ask further, just “why?”. Her eyes had drifted for a moment, but when she turned them once more, she had caught the moment the man's body was pierced and fell to the ground. It wasn't like a puppet because that was something he wasn't. He wasn't a puppet anymore, he had managed to break the strings that he had attached to himself and undress himself of the thick veil he had around himself, a veil called lies and propaganda.