The Words of the Ichijo Family

The Green Fence - Impressions of My Trip to North Korea

Fran Ichijo
October 2007

It was drizzling on October 27 as I left home, my husband driving me to Dulles airport to take flight KE 094 to Seoul, on my way to join seven hundred other women bound for North Korea. Once we landed, fourteen hours later on October 28, we unfolded ourselves from the crowded plane and found a few other conference attendees waiting for the buses to the Chung Pyung Heaven and Earth Training Center. Even though we were exhausted, the excitement was building as we chatted in the airport lobby and on the bus, finally arriving at Chungshim Youth Center, which was quite comfortable. Our energy spent, we slept on Korean mats on the warm heated floors.

We awoke at 3 AM on the twenty-ninth to take buses to Hoon Dok Hae with our True Parents at the Chung Jeong Peace Palace. It was a profound experience for me, seeing True Parents again and in this clean, crisp, celestial setting, thinking of Father building his humble church of cardboard some fifty-five years ago.

Father seemed excited about us going to North Korea on a peace mission, and spoke past the time allotted in our schedule, of course. We had such a precious experience with True Father, who danced, cajoled us, spoke deeply to us of the providence and told us to love our husbands. Leaving the palace, the view from the mountain was breathtaking, the glorious fall colors varied and bright; my husband would have loved it!

We started the WFWPI annual convention at 11 AM in a huge gymnasium in the Youth Center, where we listened to field reports from around the world of all the national and local WFWP activities. These women have made ground-breaking efforts to bring enemy factions together, provide well water and food to starving people, build schools in Africa, and educate about AIDS prevention in many locations, all by networking, using volunteers and gathering donations. It is quite gratifying to be a small part of it all. We had more reports in the afternoon, including one from America and the very active Korean chapter, which has accomplished a lot since its inception in 1992. Later, at a group photo shoot, we each received a lovely pink pashmina shawl, a gift from True Mother, to send us warmly on our way the next day to North Korea.

The evening surprises were not yet over. We were treated to a speech and a monastic session by Hyung-jin nim, True Parents' youngest son, and his lovely wife, Yeon-ah nim. He asked her to speak first. She glowed while speaking in Korean lovingly and respectfully of True Mother, recalling how Mother had apologized tearfully to Hyung-jin nim for her so often being away busy with the world providence as he was growing up. Hyung-jin nim is like a charming movie star, without the complications, in a sweet, yet dignified and confident way. With humor, he teased us, saying, "You will return from North Korea, you will return."

We heard closing remarks, mostly tips and warnings about what to do and not to do in North Korea-to be on time, to always stay with the group, to ride the same bus always, to not to lose our ID cards, to wear them all the time, to not speak too candidly with North Koreans, to not point at things we are looking at, to not bring any literature, magazines or sermons into the country with us and to not wear blue jeans. We learned there would be no mobile phones or internet access there. That we were to enter this mysterious and much maligned country the following day seemed surreal.

We received the photo ID badges that show on which bus and in which seat we entered the North. [Officials check passports and luggage at both immigration facilities. They stamp only the ID badges, which North Korea retains when the tourists depart.] We traveled first to an immigration facility in South Korea, where once processed, we climbed on Hyundai tour buses and met our guides. We set off, and our guide, a cute, young South Korean lady explained the rules again, translated by Mrs. Sook Il Seipp. As we were going, she suddenly called out, "No photos here." We were passing the MDL (Military Demarcation Line). The landscape was stark, barren with big round blocks of granite.

Once in the North Korean side of the MDL, we began to see North Korean soldiers stationed regularly. They stood stiffly, seriously; they were rather dark skinned. [The MDL is the point of division between the two Koreas as determined by the July 27, 1953 armistice agreement; an area two kilometers north and south of that point is referred to as the Demilitarized Zone or DMZ.]

North Korea's immigration facility was dingy white, not at all like the South's bright, modern facility had been. We obediently queued up as our young guide instructed us -- according to seat number. For a large group of women it was amazingly quiet.

We breathed a sigh and even applauded for the journey once we were back on our bus. We were making our way to Mt. Kumgang, our North Korean destination and the focal point of the resort run by one component of South Korea's Hyundai conglomerate as a joint effort to begin trade or dialogue with the North. It is a first step toward opening up non-political relations, and Hyundai is investing a lot of effort.

Once past the immigration facility, there was a ten-foot tall steel fence, painted green, on either side of the road. It was a very bright green as might be used on children's toys, such a cheerful innocent color, perhaps a sublime statement that we are all "okay and happy here." It was odd to have this obvious fence all along our route, wherever we went, to separate the Northerners and us.

I noticed not a single automobile, although I saw an occasional bike; there were train tracks running parallel to our bus route, but not once did a train go by. The tracks were near enough for me to see lots of weeds from apparent non-use. The trip to Mt. Kumgang resort took about forty-five minutes. There were many farm fields, right and left, which should have recently been harvested, but they looked dull and overgrown, unused. This barren land seemed painfully full of potential. The mountains beyond the fields were gorgeous, majestic; granite boulder hills continued to roll past in a unique display of God's handiwork.

We were still in a military zone, so photographs were not allowed. I saw a single ox-drawn cart with bundles of rice hay piled on it. There were people on bikes, a donkey pulling a small cart, a wheelbarrow. Most people were walking. With one exception, everyone I saw wore dark clothing. Sadly, no one was overweight.

We got to our (seemingly) four-star hotel after 4:30 PM and settled our bags. Our hotel room was nice and clean, with large sliding glass doors to a tiled deck facing the mountain.

Our dinner, souvenir shopping and the main conference event were all near each other and just five minutes from our hotel. The schedule was rather rigid; we had to be on time or a whole bus would be held up. I saw the concierges constantly checking their wristwatches.

The same tall green fence gaily lined the little road on both sides from our hotel to the plaza where the restaurant, souvenir shops and domed theater were. An occasional stiff military guard stood stolidly at any break in the fence where a small road would lead to somewhere in the woods. The guards were stern, still and barely looked right or left as we passed by though I did spot a small glance in our direction as the bus moved past one guard's little station hut.

Once at the main plaza, we could use our US$10 meal coupons for a buffet dinner. It was quite delicious, and I ate well, wondering how the North Koreans were doing without much food, as I have heard.

After eating, we could shop-all seven hundred of us-before our important meeting with the North Korean woman leaders at 8 PM. The sales girls were all either Chinese or South Korean. North Korea apparently does not want its people to meet South Koreans or other foreigners. At the souvenir shop, I bought some nice things for my husband and children and hoped that the money would go to help feed people. Interestingly, they accepted only U.S. dollars and not South Korean currency.

Ten North Korean woman delegates were at our convention there. We heard an address by our WFWPI president, Mrs. Moon Lan-young, a keynote speech by Julia Moon (Hoon-sook nim), and a speech by the vice chair of the Choson Democratic Women's Alliance, who had come all the way from Pyongyang, the capital. She wore a Korean traditional dress (hanbok), as did all the North Korean ladies. She possessed an intelligent air, clear and pleasant. She mentioned True Father quite respectfully as having met dear Kim Il Sung in 1991, when they bonded as brothers. After Hoon-sook nim spoke eloquently in English, Caroline Betancourt and her Korean counterpart recited a declaration of peace.

Then there was a photo session of leaders on the stage with the North Korean women.

We finished with a candlelight ceremony, lighting each other's candles, starting on stage, until all the auditorium was awash with flickering beams. It was a poignant moment; both President Moon and the North Korean leader were teary during this ceremony. It is interesting to note that such a meaningful, profound, unprecedented event took place on such an unadorned stage with a simple wooden podium and no flowers.

October 31 was our day for hiking up beautiful Mt. Kumgang. Hiking was invigorating or exhausting depending on your level of fitness. For me it was meditative and thoughtful as I climbed up the mountain with a friend, Sara Melchiorre, covering almost all our family struggles and joys in between breaths. It took about two hours to climb to the first "stop", a Buddhist pagoda. We took lots of photos of the fantastic views and bridges, including wiggly suspension bridges that gave some a fright. One of my goals for this trip was to make a North Korean laugh. I did this at the pagoda. When I asked a stern North Korean what the huge ancient Chinese characters chiseled into the mountain face meant, he finally answered "Buddha" after uttering some Korean terms first which I did not know. I proceeded to make my perfect Buddha closed-eyes face and placed my thumb and forefinger in the correct position with my bent elbow. They let out a belly laugh at my antics that made me so happy. Perhaps we can win the heart of the North through humor or a performing troupe of some kind.

At the top of the second peak, my legs quite tired now, simultaneously my spirit uplifted, I sat down on rock and tried to read one of these red-letter signs. Suddenly, a young lady guard/guide popped in front of me and said in a North Korean accent, "Cho-sun mal ha shi yo?" [Do you speak Korean?' using the ancient Korean from the Han Dynasty, not the term "Iran-guk mal" that the South uses. I was surprised and a little shocked. Even though I can converse in Korean, I said in English, "Only a little" because we had been warned not to talk to the North Koreans as we might get in trouble or give out information that they might use against us. Although I was longing to chat, I withheld my normally active tongue and turned away. This actually pained me.

We returned rather late for lunch from the mountain hike. I managed to hit the famous noodle restaurant by 2:00. Cold buckwheat noodles that were actually meant to be cold! Later that afternoon, we marveled at the acrobatic skill, precision and strength of a North Korean circus.

That evening, we had our closing event, a nice closing ceremony with some group songs and a little dance thrown in. It was fun and we felt the warmth of ladies having worked together to bring some light and peace to the cold North.

The next day, after a last Korean-style breakfast buffet at the hotel, with some scrambled eggs alongside the kimchi, yams, rice, spinach, acorn gelatin, and noodles, we sat in our buses, all on time for our next destination. The choice of tours on our final morning after checking out was either another mountain hike or a seaside stroll. I opted for the ocean to save my knees.

To get to the ocean, we had to drive through the countryside, where again no photos could be taken. There was only a lone human here or there, doing something out in the field. Several people were just squatting by the side of the road. There was the same green fence on either side of the road; we could not get close to them. They could not come close to us, even if they had dared. On one side road, a guard sternly stood watching us pass, unmoved. In the distance, a group of people, all in the same dark blue pants and tops, waited behind another guard until we passed, then flooded the narrow road on their bikes or on foot moving to their destinations. We had a car in front of our bus caravan and one behind.

We saw another ox-cart man, slowly making his way, a train track with no train, and not one automobile. There were little villages with a few houses, all identical, and what looked like an army barracks. All the curtains of each house were the same color, teal or turquoise blue. All the doors were painted this same teal. The tall green fence always separated us. Karen Smith said she saw tanks parked in the distant hills.

These surrounding hills were starkly beautiful and pure, with clean air. One thing growing nicely was their cabbage for winter kimchi. Bright green with full leaves, they popped up hopefully every once in a while where we could see. The cabbage patches stood out against the brown dreary fields.

At the lovely ocean, there were small fishing boats in the distance. We finished our morning tour, returned to our buses to head south and eventually home.

One last anecdote: Although the rules and rigid system of moving people around in North Korea is all about control, they did do a good job of efficiently moving seven hundred of us from place to place on seventeen buses.

After the tour, I came from Chung Pyung to Seoul with five sisters. The mere six of us could not agree how we were going to travel to where we had to go! What should have been a one-and-a-half-hour trip took five hours. I laughed at the irony and actually enjoyed the chaos and adventure. 

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