Dear Leader by Jang Jin-Sung

the ruling Kim’s special train, for which myriadroutes were kept clear for security reasons, only for them to be changed at the last minute. Many freight trains operated several months behind schedule, and the Party and military used all kinds of justifications to get Kim Jong-il’s ratification to be granted priority track use. While trains that operated under Kim Jong-il’s orders, often carrying military goods, travelled across the country’s tracks on maximum priority, passenger trains were at the very bottom of the pecking order.
    Luckily, my hometown was south of Pyongyang, where there was less rail traffic compared to other regions. This was thanks to the nature of Japanese colonial planning, which focused its infrastructure in the northern parts of the country, to aid in its mission of using Korea as a foothold for controlling Manchuria to the north. North Korean trade networks were concentrated on these connections, and the southern regions had been left relatively undeveloped.
    The distance from Pyongyang to my hometown of Sariwon is sixty-three kilometres, which would take less than an hour by car. But when I arrived at the station, I was told that the start of the journey would be delayed by three hours. I didn’t mind the wait. I hadn’t been back for ten years and was determined to make the journey by train, so I was full of excited anticipation. To be honest, I was returning home in clouds of glory as one of the Admitted. I had even planned to take with me my special wine glass into which the General himself had poured wine, and use it to toast friends back home. But my mother sternly refused me permission, saying that such an heirloom should not be removed from the house. So instead, I had filled my rucksack with alcohol and tinned meats. Carrying this bag and waiting in line for my ticket, I stood tall and proud.
    Queues are the same everywhere in North Korea. There are three signs showing the way to lines for Cadres, Military Personnel and Ordinary Residents; and at the head of each line, armed soldiers stand guard. Although only in my twenties, I confidently approachedthe Cadres’ line with my Central Party identification documents enclosed in a tan leather wallet and embossed with the gold Party emblem. People in this queue were also offered a separate waiting room, so there was no tedious standing in line for several hours like the other passengers.
    On any train, the carriage at the front of the train is reserved exclusively for the use of Party cadres. Whereas the platform had been teeming with people, because this was a restricted area, the carriage was empty save for a few people. Near the door, there were four people with dark faces who seemed nervous and kept looking round. It appeared that they had boarded the train illegally by bribing an officer. As if their goal was not Sariwon but the safe start of the journey, they were so relieved when the train began to move that they bent over and giggled among themselves.
    In North Korea, there is no freedom of movement. You can only buy a train ticket by showing an official travel pass the size of an identity card, stating your reasons for travel. If you travel without such a pass and are discovered, the sentence is three months of hard labour. A security agent soon appeared in the carriage. He must have been offered a bribe too, because he did not ask to see the travel passes of the four joyriders. As if in gratitude to me for pretending not to have noticed this, once he had checked my travel pass, he stood to attention and saluted me very formally.
    For a long time I couldn’t take my eyes off the constantly changing scenery outside the window. We had to wait for over two hours at Hwangju Station on the way, but even this did not bother me. I was in enough of a trance to be going back to my hometown, like a pilgrim returning to a pure and holy spring.
    When the train finally arrived at Sariwon Station, after travelling for over half a day, I