Free North Korea Undercover by John Sweeney Page B

died in 1993, but Macaluso is still with us: a brilliant little gnome of a man, eighty-nine, whose impassive shrugs suggest a pint-sized version of Marlon Brando’s Godfather.
    Their trip to North Korea took place at the height of the rift between the Soviet Union and China. That spring the Chinese People’s Liberation Army had attacked a Soviet position on a disputed island in a river of the far west of China, leaving fifty-nine dead, including a senior colonel. The Chinese also managed to capture a then-secret T-62 tank. Both sides had tested nuclear bombs, and the Communist world stood on the brink of a terrible internecine war. The shooting died down, but the ideological conflict continued. As the two great Communist powers clashed, smaller Communist parties tried to reach out to one another, to find common ground. Both the Italian and the North Korean parties were keen to show the Soviet Union and China that they could entertain independent relations between friendly socialist parties without the interference of either big brother.
    Logistically, however, they were stumped. The Italians had to fly to North Korea via Moscow, and the Russians were not keen on the PCI doing its own thing. So for three days they lay stranded at Moscow airport, the excuse being the weather. On the fourth day, the North Koreans, who had been growing increasingly impatient, made Kim Il Sung’s very own jet available to the Italians. As they embarked, Trombadori could not help but notice the similarities with the Pope’s personal plane, which he had recently travelled on as a journalist: comfortable large beds, elegant rooms for conversation, and excellent food. The Catholic Church and the North Koreans had different ideologies, but, as it turned out, the same tastein executive air travel.
    The North Koreans held the Italians in high esteem. At the very least, the visit of the PCI delegation to Pyongyang meant that Kim Il Sung could claim to have friendly relations with the largest Communist Party in western Europe. Both Macaluso and Trombadori were thus received almost as if they were heads of state. Despite their familiarity with Soviet satellites, they soon realized that North Korea was a world unto itself. Macaluso had walked around Krakow visiting the churches. In Budapest, he’d enjoyed some of the admittedly meagre nightlife. None of this was possible in Pyongyang.
    The Italians were escorted everywhere by an official of the Korean Workers’ Party. When they were taken shopping in one of the main squares of the city, they were amazed to see that everyone else had already been made to leave. No soldiers, no workers, no civilians walked across the square. The PCI delegation was shown the house where Kim Il Sung was born, the cradle where he’d slept and the desk where he’d studied. Macaluso, a Sicilian, no stranger to religiosity, said: ‘They showed us a shrine containing pool cues that had been used by the Great Leader as if they were a saint’s relics, all whilst he was still alive.’
    The visiting Italians found the food ghastly. Macalusore called how even the most privileged North Koreans still kept all their vegetables and other food in brine because of the lack of fridges. He didn’t comment on this habit, just pulled a very miserable face.
    Kim Il Sung, to the two Italians, was no saint. He was far more approachable than the cult of personality would have suggested, smart and sly and also, it seemed, more thana little paranoid. He told them about the attempts on his life that had been organized by Khrushchev. To the Soviets, Kim implied, for the North Korean leader to exercise independent relations with China was to be guilty of treachery.
    Macaluso pointed out the contradiction between North Korea’s claim to political independence and its support for the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, crushing the Prague Spring in 1968. After the translator had spoken Macaluso’s words, Kim Il Sung remained silent. The other