A Kitachousenjin

He poured through books like water from a clear glass pitcher. And when he was empty, he waited to be filled again. "I'm just buying my time," he thought. But really it was the elements that had control. Sure, he could set himself under the eave of a rooftop, but even then, it still had to rain.


I talked with a guy from North Korea tonight. Kitachousen. All of Korea is chousen; they consider themselves one-people, one-blood. Through our conversation of 95% Japanese and 5% English, I managed to understand his main convictions and the things he so desperately wanted me to understand. His name was Kim, a 41-year old entrepreneur selling Korean food in Shizuoka. His grandfather had been from South Korea and somehow (I couldn't follow this part) this allowed Kim to be in Japan, though his alien registration card showed him as a North Korean.

Kim constantly apologized for the things he was saying, though he raised little offense. He said that Koreans in North Korea would rather keep their own culture, their pride, and starvation, than to be infiltrated by Americanism and the vices that come with it. He said that it was a difficult decision to make between which was worse: starving in Korea or being shot on the street in L.A.

South Korea had become "America's dog." The people were kept sedated with the "3 Ss:" sex, screen and ___. War was business, and America was only after North Korea so that they could be closer to China's and Russia's door, the likes of which would be a "constant pebble in China's shoe." According to Kim, North Koreans feared an aggressive and hostile China as a result of American presence, more than they feared their empty stomachs. He said that if America went to war, they would win, 100%. But maybe not before North Korea would be able to take a retaliatory pot-shot at either South Korea or Japan.

Kim liked Americans, and he couldn't get enough of shaking my hand and patting me on the back. But he assured me that that didn't mean he liked my government. In his mind, Clinton would have made the best president because she would be the most likely to leave North Korea alone. Kim also liked American style business, this probably being the result of his livelihood. The Japanese tended too much to keep their heads down and despair over the low points of the oscillating business curve. He kept a smile on his face and waited for the upswing. Kim wanted everyone to be friends, for there to be peace among all nations, and even dreamed of visiting America someday, if the government ever allowed him to.

"Hontou Gomennasai, I'm really sorry, Luther," he said as he criticised America again. He loved meeting Americans and telling them all about North Korea. "They don't teach you these things in school."

We traded numbers toward the end of the evening. Kim said he would take me out for yakiniku or Korean-style barbecue. I would pay 20%, he would pay 80 because at 41 "he was my uncle." I told him I really liked ishiyakibibimba, another type of Korean cooking. That awarded me another handshake.

Kim was the first North Korean I have ever met, and I do hope to spend another evening with him. This one had turned into a late night, but one that I wouldn't have traded for any night's worth of perfect sleep.

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