Peering into North Korea

Last Modified: 20 Oct 2006
By: Lindsey Hilsum

Lindsey Hilsum looks across China's Yalu River into the secretive world of its neighbour, North Korea.

A North Korean soldier waves as a Chinese river cruise boat passes by on the Yalu River at the town of Sinuiju. (Reuters)

I felt embarrassed floating down the Duck Green River taking pictures of the North Koreans on the other bank, as if they were creatures in a zoo that we dared not approach too closely.

But the soldiers and other residents of Sinuiju, the North Korean town closest to China, are used to such voyeurism. Dozens of tourist boats set off daily from the quay at Dandong on the Chinese side, gliding under the Friendship Bridge which links the two countries.

Our boat set off at the same time as one hired by a wedding party, the guests snapping photos of the bride in peppermint green tulle and her smart-suited groom as they giggled happily on the top deck.

The contrast between the two river banks is painful. Dandong is an unlovely city, but compared to Sinuiju it's paradise. At night, multi-coloured neon lights illuminate flashing signs for restaurants, hotels, markets, bars and clubs, while the Korean side remains dark and silent.

As we drew close to the Korean bank in our boat, we saw old men fishing off the back of rusting hulks in a disused dockyard. Women washed clothes in the river, men cultivated brown fields by hand while children watched us and waved.

We caught sight of the occasional soldier in a tall, peaked cap - one had a rifle slung over his shoulder while he cradled a baby with his other arm.

The houses were crumbling. Our tour guide pointed out two newer buildings which she said the North Koreans had built as restaurants, wanting to show that they too were modernising. But no-one ever went in or out, she said.

North Korea's exports include the health product ginseng and fake Viagra. In our hotel we found packets of "Man Viger" (the packaging showed a ferocious looking tiger) and "France Combo Human Pheromone in the Romantic City", one for "Lady", the other for "Gentleman."

I liked the idea that even in North Korea they've got the idea that the French are somehow sexier than the rest of us. "Britain Combo Human Pheromone" presumably wouldn't have the same allure. In the Korean quarter of Dandong, our producer Bessie bought ginseng in a red tin with a lethally sharp edge when opened.

Inside was a crude, splintered wooden box encasing the small, dark ginseng root. The stall owner said it was smuggled in.

That evening, we had dinner in a Korean restaurant, accompanied by two Chinese businessmen. Those who trade with Pyongyang have been told by the Chinese authorities not to speak to the foreign media, but a few glasses of rice wine and little karaoke made them relax.

They told us that the Chinese embassy in Pyongyang had warned them the day BEFORE the nuclear test that they should go back to China, leaving just one key person per company in the North Korean capital. No reason had been given, just "the situation is tense". "It's already affecting us," grumbled Mr Wang, who acts as a middleman for Chinese manufacturers selling to North Korea.

"Some Chinese suppliers rang to ask us to with-hold products because they fear their things will get stuck in North Korea. The insurance doesn't cover war."

After regular visits over many years, they painted a bleak picture of life inside the isolated state. "People in government enterprises earn less than a dollar a month," said Mr Cheung. "They spend most of their time having political education classes.

The economy is close to collapse. Even the farmers don't harvest when the crops are ready - they have to wait until the government sends people from the city to help."

They said that they weren't allowed to talk freely to North Koreans, but those they'd met were aware to some extent of the country's problems. "They just don't realise how bad it is," said Mr Wang. "All they know is what the government tells them." The businessmen said they had to carry thousands of dollars in cash because North Korea has no functioning banking system, and no credit facilities.

As we talked over pancakes made of kimchee - North Korean pickled cabbage - and other delicacies, beautiful young waitresses in traditional brightly coloured dresses danced and sang. When we tried to video their performance, their fixed smiles wavered and they asked us to stop filming. The restaurant, we learnt, was part owned by the North Korean state.

The young women are brought to Dandong for a year or 18 months and then have to return to North Korea. They are told to spy on each other. They fear what would happen to their families if they tried to stay in China.

China's great worry is that if sanctions or other pressure makes the regime's grasp on power falter, millions of North Koreans would flee over the border. They're extending a barbed wire fence, but the frontier is 870 miles long so guarding it closely would be extremely difficult.

Souvenir sellers told us how North Korean soldiers sometimes approach the river's edge where the channel is narrowest and barter old medals or trinkets for food. If one of them tries to cross, they said, other soldiers shoot them.

I reflected that all that holds any totalitarian government in place is fear and collective obedience. The day the soldiers decide not to shoot, it will all be over.

As we floated under the bridge I wasn't peering into a zoo, but a prison. One day, maybe, the guards will fling open the doors and throw the key into the Duck Green River.

Related links
Lindsey Hilsum reports
China reports
North Korea reports