Good afternoon. My name is Kim Hye Sook.
I'm wearing sunglasses right now, because in a prisoner camp back in North Korea I still have siblings who are imprisoned there. Because of that, I cannot reveal my full identity to the public, so I have my sunglasses on. I'd like to ask for your understanding for this.
My family was imprisoned in October 1970 in the number 18 labour camp. My grandfather, my father, my mother, my younger brother, and my younger sister were all imprisoned at that time. At the time, I was living with my maternal grandmother, so I wasn't imprisoned with the rest of my family members. But I kept on being bothered by the officials who were in charge of my maternal grandmother's area. They tried to send me to where my family was. So at the end of February 1975 I joined my family in the political prisoners camp. I was 13 years old at the time. I had no idea what was going on at all. I just was forced into this prisoners camp.
What I felt at that time is really something that I cannot express at all. It was just so sad that I had to go in there.
My aunt on my father's side took me to the gate of the number 18 labour camp, and the guards there made sure that no one inside the camp could meet my aunt there. For about three or four hours, I waited at the guards' station, and my mother, who I hadn't seen in five years, came out to meet me from inside the camp. I really couldn't recognize who she was. Her health had deteriorated to the extent that I couldn't recognize her at all. It was the end of February, but her shoes were all tattered. I really couldn't find any words to say to my mother, and I just held her hand.
I was taken inside the prisoners camp by my mother. There were things they called houses, but you really couldn't call them houses. They were just small huts that maybe wild beasts would live in. I saw that my siblings were there. And I had more younger brothers and sisters who were born in that camp.
My grandmother welcomed me by bringing out a dinner table that had food that was not even fit for animals. We had various grasses and some corn mixed together in a porridge. It really wasn't something that I could swallow. It would hurt my throat on the way down. I couldn't swallow at all at the beginning, but I saw that my younger brothers and sisters ate that as if it were a feast. They kept on looking at my bowl, so I just gave what was in my bowl to them.
I asked my grandmother where my father was, because my father wasn't there. They told me that my father had gone out to work at night but he didn't come in the day after or the day after that. I asked my mother what happened to my father and where he was. I heard that in 1974, on December 7, the security guards took my father, and my mother was working in his place on the farms to support her five children and her mother-in-law.
They were very hard times for my mother. The year that I went in, 1975, my mother fell from a cliff as she was picking vegetables in the mountains, and she passed away. So my grandmother and my four younger siblings and I went into the mining area and started working in the mining section of the camp so that we could sustain the family and at least have something to eat. It was my responsibility to protect my family there.
In that area we would receive, per month, seven kilograms of corn. If we dried it out at home, it would shrink to about four to four and a half kilograms. This was for six family members to eat for one whole month. Wherever we went, if we saw anything green on the ground, we would just pick it and save it to eat later on. We spent 13 years in the mining area, working like that and eating like this.
In my 13 years, because of all the dust that I breathed in inside the mines, I developed a lung disease, and it's really difficult for me to breathe. But actually, it was very fortunate for me, because most young men really didn't live beyond 40 years because of all the mining dust they had breathed in.
It was for us very fortunate that we could at least eat this porridge made of anything green that we could find around us.
We saw many public executions, either by gunshots or by hanging, and for us, we were always on the verge of danger and we always had to witness these atrocities within the prisoners camp. In the public execution by shooting, we saw in number 14 camp that there was a public execution going on. Someone from number 18 camp had crossed the river into number 14 camp and had stolen some corn because they didn't have anything to eat, but everyone who did that was shot to death by the prison guards.
We are called “relocated people”, but everyone was in pain and suffering throughout this period. During my 28 years there, every single day I felt that I really wanted to just die and be over with it. All the security guards and everyone there would all be watching us, and we would be recognized as prisoners and relocated people within the prisoner camps, and they would just not treat us humanely at all. Sometimes they'd call us and tell us to get down on our knees and then open our mouths, and then they would spit into our mouths and tell us to swallow their spit. If we swallowed as soon as they spit, then we would be okay, but if we gagged, we would be beaten. Really, in those times I did not want to live any more.
I told you that we picked greens whenever we could, but sometimes we would have some salt and that would make the porridge just a little better, but most of the time we didn't have any salt at all to help it go down. Every month, one person could get about 600 grams of salt, but that too was sometimes not given out. For about five or six months we maybe got about 700 to 800 grams of bean paste, and it really wasn't enough to make any soup out of. It was so rare that whenever we received it, we just ate it as it was. And even though we had that respite of that bean paste and salt, our bodies suffered a lot. Even now, compared to beef and pork, we like it when we have bean paste because it was such a rare commodity in the prisoner camps.
My mother passed away in the prison camp and one of my younger brothers also died in an accident in a mine. Everyone suffered throughout the years. What I felt during that time was that I needed to be released from the situation, but my mother and father didn't pass anything down to me, and I had four younger siblings and my grandmother all to take care of in that camp. So whenever I went out to work, I had to just bear the suffering, just shoulder the suffering.
We were supposed to work for eight hours a day in the mines, but usually we would end up working for 12 to 16 hours. When our shift started we would go into the mines and it was very dusty there, and then after our shift ended—late, of course—we would go out and try to go into the mountains and get anything green that we could to eat, and then we'd bring it down to the mines. Picking the vegetables was another shift that we had to work as well, and all combined, it was about 16 to 18 hours that we worked and we would get whatever sleep we could back in the hut.
Because of the dust we were very dirty after mining, but we didn't have enough soap to clean up, and water was rationed and everyone got three very small buckets of water to wash with. If we used more water we would get beaten. We worked in the mine but we couldn't get any water. It was impossible to wash without any soap, so the miners who worked suffered a lot, and I felt the suffering myself looking at the other people and experiencing it myself.
Public execution was particularly rampant at the time when in 1994 Kim Il-sung died and Kim Jong-il came to power. He tried to replace his father's people with his people, and there were many secret executions and public executions at that time as Kim Jong-il tried to secure power in North Korea. Any disobedience would result in a shooting.
We saw all of this peak in about 1996. There were many bodies all around the roads. At first I was scared, but later on I saw too many dead bodies so it didn't scare me or alarm me at all.
There was just no time or energy for the people to take care of the dead bodies on the street, so a special team took care of them and placed them elsewhere.
At that time people who had served under Kim Il-sung were also sent to the prison camps and they too were sometimes in accidents at the camps.
In my talks about the situation in North Korea, which I give around the world, I always think of this and think that I need to tell people about the situation in North Korea so they have a very clear view of what the situation is like there, and I started to draw a picture of life in the concentration camps.
In Japan there was a person who served as a chef to Kim Jong-il and I showed him my picture about life in North Korea. He looked at the situation there and he recognized one of the people I had drawn. He was previously in the central government and this chef of Kim Jong-il had taken a picture of a person who had ended up in a prison camp and who had died there.
Other people I talked to after coming out of North Korea recognized the people who were in the drawings I drew of the prison camp. These pictures have helped people understand the extent of the prison camps in North Korea, and they too have joined in voicing the message that these prison camps must be dismantled.
During my 28 years in these prison camps I suffered a lot, and for me it's a dream that I've been released and am here in Canada now. Sometimes I can't really believe I'm living this life here.
Until the end of the 1990s I worked in the mines. We suffered a lot until that time. I became a model prisoner there. When you become a model prisoner you are allowed to get married there, so I married a person and registered with the camp and I gave birth to one son and one daughter. In 2001, on Kim Jong-il's birthday, I was released from the prison camp. Until I was released we bred various dogs and pigs and we always gave them to the officials at the prison camp so they would leave my family alone. On February 16, 2001, my family and my younger siblings were all released from the prison camp.
I wanted to escape the society that had caused me such suffering.
When you're released they tell you where your relatives are. So I went to my uncle's house, my father's brother's house, and finally found out why my family had been sent to the prison camp in the first place. My uncle told us that if he had lived with my grandmother instead of my father, his family would have been taken to the prison camp. All this was because my grandfather had apparently disappeared during the Korean War. The North Koreans thought he went to South Korea. Therefore we all had to go to the prison camp. After I was released I was told this fact.
I had one son and one daughter, as I mentioned, and I went to my mother's sister's house in P'ungsan to live. But you really can't live with relatives for a long period of time, so I tried to gain independence from my relatives. I found a small place for my family to live and started to peddle things to make a living for my family. I would peddle fabric and manufactured goods among different towns in the neighbourhood.
I would sometimes go to a different town to peddle things. In 2003, while I was in a different town, a flood swept over the town where my family was living and swept away my children. I searched high and low for my children. I went all around North Korea to see if maybe my children were alive somewhere in the country. I could not find them. My leg was injured in the process, so I could not go anywhere at all. I met a broker who told me that if I went to China I would have food and there would be things for me to do to work.
As to the process of my defection, maybe I should do that in a separate period.