Oct 19th, 2005
Changing Homes
As my siblings and I grew older, my parents decided that our condominium simply did not have enough space, and so we moved into a single unit home, complete with its very own outhouse.
The home had enough room to sleep ten people - by Korean standards - which basically meant that there were three rooms in the house.
Moving from the condominium into our own house resulted in a certain degree of isolation. Now, I was mostly surrounded by my two brothers, my sister, and my Mother. The only other people I encountered during the day were relatives, who would come from the village in order to help my mother with her household chores.
Our new home was separated from neighboring houses by eight-foot walls, which served to create an illusion of isolation in an otherwise claustrophobic neighborhood. The walls meant that I no longer saw other children in the neighborhood when I stepped onto the narrow front porch, before I would begin the walk to school.
Every morning, I would leave my house very early garbed in my school uniform, which consisted of blue shorts, a white shirt, and a red necktie. I would walk down a steep, narrow dirt road that lead to the school.
Once all of the students had arrived and been accounted for, we would go through the same daily process, which would begin with our teachers leading us through a set of callisthenic exercises. Once these had been completed, we would sing songs extolling the virtues of our glorious leader.
After the morning rituals, we would begin our daily lessons.
Initially, our lives did not change much even though our political system had become communist. Later, as the societal changes began to have a more palpable effect on our daily lives, a sense of fear began to grow.
While it was still fresh though, I continued to do the same things I had always done: play soccer, tinker with my go-cart, and waste time with other neighborhood children.
There were a number of beaches along the Taedong River, which runs through Pyongyang. It was popular for families to visit the river during holidays. Back then, the beaches were still relatively unspoiled and I would often lose myself in a blur of fishing, swimming, and playing in the sand.
In this country, when people think about eating fish, they tend to think about larger fish. Back then, people would catch hundreds of tiny fish and then fry them in a cooking pan. They do that in Sri Lanka as well, and I feel a dim sense of nostalgia when I see them eating these fish.
I’m sure if I ever got a chance to go back, I would not recognize the beaches or the river that graced this beautiful city.
