Written by Nikki Muyskens ETA’09-12
I remember studying some “Learn Hangeul” print-outs on my first flight to Korea, desperately trying to get some of this new writing system to stick in my mind. I had a list of “Konglish” words to sound out for practice, which did little to calm my nerves when I would tediously sound out a word like “pi-ja” and still be unable to make the connection to the English word “pizza.” What match would I be for the language barrier, if I couldn’t even understand Koreanized words from my native tongue, let alone the cultural obstacles I would have to overcome?
Thankfully, I encountered many friendly people along the way who have helped me make Korea my home, and I have gradually learned more and more Korean. Sometimes I enjoy the convenience of English loan words, like when I want to take a “tek-shi” (taxi) to the “bus-seh tuh-mi-nuhl” (bus terminal). Sometimes I just get entertainment out of Korean pronunciation, like the lack of “r” in “ma-teh” (mart) or the “sh” in “shoo-puh” (super(market)).
Other times I feel frustrated with loan words like these, like if my students don’t understand my pronunciation of “suh-tuh-di room” (study room) or laugh at my attempt at spelling a word like “saen-deh-wi-chi” (sandwich) in Hangeul. Sometimes life in Korea can give me so much “suh-tuh-rae-suh” (stress), yet I am grateful that our languages do overlap in some instances. Otherwise, how would I ever navigate the “in-tuh-net” (Internet) on my Korean “com-pyu-tuh” (computer)?
With my blond hair and blue eyes, I never fool anyone into thinking that I am Korean, and this generally earns me some extra help. I fit very well into Korea’s conception of a “way-gook-in” (foreigner). However, I am not the only type of foreigner in this country. People come to live here from all parts of Asia and the rest of the world. Some look foreign, but others blend in. Some have Korean heritage, but have grown up entirely in another country, like America.
There is yet another group, a group now over 20,000 strong, who look Korean and indeed are Korean, and yet grew up in a land very foreign to modern-day South Korea. These people are North Korean defectors, and they face their own challenges in adapting to life in this Korea.
In many respects, South Korea can be more foreign to North Korean defectors than to me. Aside from the mere existence of unfamiliar English loan words, the ideas for which such words stand are also novel. Most likely there are “taxis” and “bus terminals” of some sort in North Korea, but in a country where the “du-bal-cha” (two-footed-car, i.e., pedestrian) is the primary mode of transportation and even the very concept of unrestricted travel is unheard of, a comparison can hardly be drawn. Similarly, “marts” and “supermarkets” operate under an alien system called capitalism, which the North Korean regime has tried hard to suppress. “Study rooms” speak to South Korea’s strong emphasis on education, particularly on English education, in contrast with North Korea’s primary goal of idolizing the Kim family.
The normalization of the word “sandwich” speaks to the prevalence of Western and fusion foods, which must seem exotic if one is accustomed to a place where even rice can sometimes be outside of one’s price range. Given that situation, “stress” cannot be a foreign concept, but its source can be vastly different. Rather than being concerned with getting the next meal on the table, they may wonder how they will ever be able to navigate the wealth of knowledge available to them on the “Internet,” that bastion of information freedom.
What must it be like to be someone from North Korea, having lived through and overcome situations that I cannot quite imagine? They must be so different from me, I thought, until I met them and started getting to know them.
One mom I know is concerned about her daughter’s education and English ability, much like my other students’ parents. The high school students I teach worry about their tests, and look forward to being free and hanging out with their friends. One girl named Rachel, whom I taught in high school, is now entering university and is wondering how she will make new friends, because she doesn’t know anyone in her major. These emotions are hardly foreign to me. There are, of course, differences — significant differences — between us, in our experiences and our situations, and yet, they are not irreconcilable. They need not isolate us.
Paradoxically, the very concept of “foreigner” others the individual from mainstream society, and yet the title does offer the individual a larger group identity. Both Americans and North Korean defectors living in South Korea experience this culture as foreigners, which naturally means that there will be some similarities in our experiences.
I miss my family and friends in America, like many of them miss their family and friends, but I have the benefit of video-chat and occasional trips home. Through what I’ve read and heard about North Korea, I have gathered that there are many divided families, and that defectors can’t exactly go back to their hometowns for a visit. But this abstract knowledge, sobering as it is, gains new meaning in knowing the people that this affects personally.
Though I don’t know what it would be like to be in their situations — to have lost family and friends, to have to talk to relatives only rarely and in utter secrecy, or to feel like you’ve abandoned loved ones to punishment — I can at least identify with a great love for family, and thus connect with them a little more. We are both foreigners, but our longings and affections are not that foreign.
Recently, I met up with Rachel, the university student. She was very emotional, and told me that she had just received a phone call from her grandmother in North Korea. Rachel was grateful to have heard from her, but there was so much left unresolved in a conversation that couldn’t last more than a minute or two. There was so much she had wanted to say, and yet emotion had overcome her, especially at her grandmother’s concern for her and her mom, when their concern was for her.
All too soon, because of the danger of being reported in North Korea, the conversation had to end, while countless unspoken thoughts lingered. From afar, it is too easy to say that North Korean defectors are vastly different from us and thus distance ourselves from their struggle. But our common ground as foreigners draws us together. We miss our families; we want to see them again someday.
How will that work for North Koreans? No one can know, but we can hope together that somehow these families are reunited. “Mom,” Rachel’s mother cried right before hanging up the phone, “make sure to live until we reach unification! We’ll definitely see each other again someday.”
Nikki Muyskens is a 2009 ETA at Cheonan Yongso Elementary School in Cheonan.