Free Dear Leader by Jang Jin-Sung

1990, when I should have been wholly devoted to my musical studies at Pyongyang Arts School.
    Kim Sang-o’s apartment was in Otan-dong, in the Joong-gu Area, with unobstructed views over the Daedong River. After Korea’s liberation from Japanese occupation in 1948, Kim Sang-o had returned from Japan and served as the deputy editor of a newspaper in Hwanghae Province. When Kim Il-sung came to Hwanghae Province, Kim Sang-o was assigned to be his speechwriter. Thiscollaboration eventually led to his promotion to the post of Vice President of the Central Committee of the Korean Writers’ Union.
    However, the influence of China’s Cultural Revolution, which began in 1966, led to many intellectuals being purged in North Korea too. The North Korean state had designated Khrushchev as a ‘revisionist’, following his criticism of Stalin’s cultification, and at the time the DPRK preferred the Chinese style of Communism to that of the Soviet Union. The record of Kim Sang-o’s years in Japan as a student let him down as it associated him with pro-Japanese collaborators, and was seen as undermining Kim Il-sung’s authority as an anti-Japanese resistance fighter. After losing his licence as a writer, Kim Sang-o was banished to the countryside, where for fifteen years he worked as a farm labourer.
    Kim Il-sung, however, had a good memory. When he conducted an on-site guidance session in South Hwanghae Province, he asked for the young speechwriter who had composed Kim’s first speech in Hwanghae Province, shortly after the liberation of Korea. Kim Sang-o was subsequently recalled to Pyongyang and he composed the lyric poem ‘My Homeland’ at this emotional time, praising the person of Kim Il-sung (instead of the state or territory) as his true homeland. My classmate Ri Su-ryon was born in Seoheung-gun in Hwanghae Province where Kim Sang-o had been in exile, but following his rehabilitation she had moved with him to the capital city of Pyongyang.
    Kim Il-sung appointed his former speechwriter as the head of UFD Office 101, Section 5. From then on, he had to channel his literary talents to serve the goals of the Workers’ Party, working under a pseudonym and deprived of an identity or history of his own. By the time of my visit to his home, he had retired from the UFD, though he was still an honorary director of Office 101 due to his official status as a Kim Il-sung Associate. As his UFD title came with no actual responsibility, he was living as quiet and ordinary a lifeas possible for someone with such a background. More importantly from my perspective, he also had the time to meet me.
    When Kim Sang-o himself opened the door, I was startled and bowed deeply from the waist. His tall stature and imposing countenance made a strong first impression on me, suggesting that men of Kim Il-sung’s inner circle were, even in appearance, extraordinary beings. Yet it was his humility that made him a truly great man in my eyes.
    In spite of his status, Kim Sang-o’s house was cold because of the erratic heating system in Pyongyang. As I entered, his wife offered me one of his coats to keep me warm, and I was surprised to notice three cigarette burns on the fabric.
    Until fairly recently, the electricity supply had not been too bad. But as it was a centrally organised system, even a minor disruption in one area would affect the hot water heating supply for the rest of Pyongyang. The age of the pipes and their tendency to burst frequently was a problem, and many households resorted to siphoning hot water from the traditional Korean under-floor heating system to use for washing. So there was always a lack of heat, and with the inefficiency of the infrastructure, even in the harsh middle of winter, the best heat to be had was a lukewarm floor.
    This was the case even though Kim Sang-o lived in a senior Party cadres’ retirement flat, built in the 1980s in a residential area set apart from those of ordinary Pyongyang residents. Although this