OPINION:IN 1997, North Korea got inside my head and stayed there, lodged somewhere beneath the surface, until the death of Kim Jong-il whose funeral took place yesterday.
Fourteen years ago, North Korea was the most closed, intriguing and least-known country in the world. From reading all the reports during the past 10 days, I see nothing has changed. It was stunningly beautiful and full of contradictions, with at least one surreal experience guaranteed every day.
People say that the mourning photos and footage visible online in recent days are nothing but choreographed grief, completely stage-managed. I don’t think so. If spending a week in North Korea completely gets inside your head, what must a lifetime living there do to you?
The scenes online reminded me of those witnessed when I visited Kumsusan Memorial Palace. Kim Jong-il has been lying in state there since his death earlier this month, in the same place the body of his embalmed father, Kim Il-sung, has been lying on public view since 1994.
The palace is closed to foreigners generally, but we were invited there as part of an official delegation.
It was like being in the strangest of films – utterly eerie and surreal. Kumsusan Palace reminded me of an overdecorated airport hangar with hundreds of silent, grieving people on huge moving walkways, some of which were seemingly miles long. They were all dressed in their best clothes, many crying into white handkerchiefs.
We were told by our “minders” – the men who accompanied us every time we left the hotel – that we were to dress smartly. On arrival, the soles of our shoes were brushed on a giant mat and I recall going through some kind of wind machine to remove the dust from our clothes.
There were coloured lights, sombre music and a giant statue. Kim Il-sung was lying in state in a glass sarcophagus, his head visible on a pillow and his body covered in the North Korean flag. In groups of four, we were told to bow at his feet at his left side and his right side. Every moment was stage-managed.
At that point in the trip, we had spent days visiting orphanages where children were seriously malnourished; hospitals were without electricity, running water or medicine; and industrial areas had rusting cranes and silent machinery – yet here we were being proudly brought around this magnificent palace.
We had witnessed people collecting grass to add to seaweed stews, seen mothers lying helplessly beside dying children in the children’s ward of the general hospital of Pyongsong, seen gangs of obviously malnourished people doing hard physical labour. Yet we were expected to admire the Mercedes car that the great leader used to drive and all the gifts he had supposedly been given by admiring presidents from other countries – and not forgetting his magnificent personal train. It was in direct contrast with the shame apparent when the nurses and doctors saw our distress in seeing the children in their charge, suffering from severe malnourishment and cardiac failure.
Duty and shame are key values in North Korea. Duty to do your absolute best in awful circumstances and shame when things don’t work out; when you manage to produce a meal out of nothing, yet there is no running water available for your guest to wash their hands. Or far worse, answering questions from foreigners about how many children in your state nursery have died.
I still remember the face of the pharmacist in a hospital asking me not to take a photo of his empty pharmacy.
The past years have been extraordinarily difficult for ordinary North Koreans. Now all have been mobilised to attend the funeral and memorial events throughout the country. There are elements of grief, anxiety and confusion.
Princess Diana died when I was in North Korea and I didn’t even realise it. News that goes around the world doesn’t reach the ordinary North Koreans, though they most probably have been told that the whole world is in mourning for their dear leader, Kim Jong-il.
It remains unknown to what extent their lives will change under the new regime.
Niamh O’Carroll is director of O’Carroll Consulting and lives in Dublin. She visited North Korea while working for Trócaire