파수꾼님께서 올린
아일랜드 공영방송
북한특집 프로그램 동영상을 보니
진실보다 강한 무기는 없다는 것이 실감납니다.

영어는 유창해도
대답의 알맹이가 빠진
외국어대학 학생들.

북한의 현실을
있는 그대로 보지 말고
역사적인 관점에서 봐 달라 둘러대며
미국 탓만 해대는 북한 관리.

햇볕정책의 당위성을 주장하면서
계속해서 퍼줘야 한다고
애써 강변하는
대한민국 통일부 관리...

8일간의 보고 들은 것을
15분이 채 안되는
동영상으로 압축하여
북한의 실상을 꿰뚫고
한국 통일부의 허세를
냉철하게 보여주는 명작을
젊은이들에게 보여 줍시다.

http://www.rte.ie/news/features/northkorea
클릭하면 동영상과 취재일기가 올라 있습니다.

<마가렛 워드 기자의 취재일기 원문>

Inside North korea

Day One- Saturday 19 November

'Your flight to Pyongyang is now ready for

boarding at Gate 16.' We sipped the last of our

cappuccinos in the coffee shop at Beijing

Airport and made for the gate, eyeing our

fellow passengers, and wondering if one of them

was there to watch that we behaved. Or were we

just being paranoid?

We were welcomed aboard the ageing Ilyushin by

white-gloved, immaculately dressed Air Koryo

hostesses who served lunch and handed out

copies of a week-old Pyongyang Times in

English. The lead story was that the Dear

Leader, Kim Jong-il, had visited a duck farm

and pronounced himself happy with developments.

The dateline was Juche 94. Years here are

counted from the birthday of the Great Leader,

Kim Il-sung, who founded modern North Korea.

Instead of the usual weather forecast we were

treated to a tourism preview of Pyongyang, and

told that during our visit we would see the

tower of Juche and the hill where the Great

Leader spoke of the revolution.

The first group down the steps of the plane was

a delegation carrying foil-wrapped bouquets

bought in Beijing. They were ready to go

straight to the monument to Kim Il-sung to pay

their respects.

After our baggage was screened we had to hand

over a mobile phone and receive a receipt.

There's no Vodafone roaming here anyway, but I

guess the authorities were worried we might

give our phone to someone local who could

access either the South Korean or Chinese

networks along the borders.

Driving into town with Concern and their local

staff (assigned by the foreign ministry), what

I was struck by was the numbers walking

everywhere, carrying firewood, furniture or

sacks of rice or other food. There was hardly

any traffic, just long queues for the few buses

on the streets. No ads, no neon, just a long

parade of grey and white tower blocks.

Pyongyang doesn't do traffic lights - it has

traffic ladies instead. At each junction these

ladies in blue trouser suits with natty fur

collars and hats direct the traffic with

batons, with military precision.

We are being allowed to stay at a Concern

apartment in the diplomatic compound. This is

considered a big privilege; the few journalists

allowed in here are usually confined to a

hotel.

We head for dinner at the Diplo, a club for

diplomats and aid workers where unbelievably

awful karaoke music is played to a video which

seems to major on alpine scenes.

Day Two- Sunday 20 November

Last night we asked our foreign ministry minder

if we could go to Mass, not really expecting

that we would be allowed to film. But here I am

being escorted into the front pew at

Pyongyang's only Catholic church. And Magnus

has a bird's eye view of proceedings.

I can't understand a word of course, but the

choreography seems familiar and I recognise the

Alleluia and a version of 'We Shall Overcome'.

Protestant churches were always more

significant here in the early part of the 20th

century, so maybe the hymnal dates from then.

We're told there are also a Protestant church,

a Buddhist temple and a Russian Orthodox church

under construction. It all appears to be for

show, to say that there is freedom of religion.

The choir is dressed in pink, the pianist in

green with pink roses round the cuffs. All the

women are wearing mantillas and everyone is

singing with gusto. There's nothing resembling

a consecration and no communion as there is no

resident priest. Magnus thinks he heard the

words 'Kim Jong-il', North Korea's current

leader, mentioned more than once.

No one wants to talk to us or the camera but I

slip a hymnal into my bag and make a note to

check in with the Columban fathers when we get

to Seoul to see how real this church is. One of

their number died on the Long March during the

Korean War, and many Korean priests were

assassinated at that time.

Then it's off to see North Korea's monument to

its guiding philosophy, Juche, which is often

translated as 'self-reliance'. Everything here

is built to commemorate someone's birthday -

usually Kim Il-sung's. The Juche Tower, which

we're told is the tallest stone tower in the

world, was built for his 70th birthday.

Biggest, tallest, deepest is a recurring theme

here - our next monument, the Arch of Triumph,

is apparently five metres taller than the one

in Paris. From the top there is a terrific view

of the city, which rose from the ashes of the

Korean War. Our guide says 400,000 bombs were

dropped on Pyongyang, more than were dropped on

Germany during World War II.

Then it's on to the Great Monument, a rather

tacky 20m high bronze statue of Kim Il-sung

overlooking the city. Wedding couples are

laying wreaths there in a longstanding

tradition. This rather surreal first day

concludes at sunset at the Revolutionary

Martyrs' Cemetery, where bronze busts of

various leaders look down on Pyongyang.

We're a bit tired of monuments and express a

desire to speed things up, citing lack of light

for filming, but we get the distinct

impressions that our minder is not impressed

with our lack of appropriate devotion and

reluctance to purchase the obligatory wreaths.

On the way back, as we pass through a poor

residential area, we see people huddled on the

ground. It looks like they are picking herbs or

grass. I'm not sure if this is to eat; we can't

stop to find out. We are on an itinerary, and

any deviation has to be approved. Stopping at

will is not an option. We will have to try to

get around this.

Day Three - Monday 21 November

We left for the countryside early in the

morning, one of the few TV crews ever allowed

outside Pyongyang. What was most noticeable was

that every inch of land is under cultivation,

and that there is hardly any mechanised

transport.

Any transport there is seems to be for mixed

army and civilian use. Private ownership

doesn't exist, so trucks or buses belong to the

army or to work units and are crammed full of

people. We saw more trucks broken down than

fully functioning.

Today we even saw the army hitchhiking. It's

hard to believe this is one of the world's

largest standing armies. But mostly we saw

people reduced to pack animals, walking long

distances, and bent over with loads of rice,

maize or cabbage, or fodder or fuel wood. It's

the end of the harvest season and obviously the

rush is on to get things in before the winter.

There is also the brown sofa phenomenon. I've

seen three since we arrived, all being carried

on the back of a bicycle, one with a small

child perched on top.

We saw three people in a bad state today. I saw

one man stumble and fall under his heavy load.

Another man was being comforted, clearly in

distress at the side of the road. And I saw an

old lady being loaded into a cart, clearly

exhausted. The famine here in the late 1990s

killed up to three million people, and

malnutrition is still a major problem.

Earlier we had visited a tree nursery being

supported by Concern. As Mike, Concern's

forester, explained, the famine in the late

'90s meant that people started growing food

even on mountainous slopes. So trees were cut

down. But that meant there was nothing to hold

in the land, and landslides and flooding had

wreaked havoc. So now the race was on to

reforest vast swathes of the country. But

Concern has to leave at the end of the year,

and the government has decided it doesn't need

humanitarian assistance anymore.

The locals at the nursery seem to have

developed a good relationship with Mike. He

even managed to persuade the authorities to let

him bring some of the nursery managers in the

area to a Concern workshop in Ethiopia to learn

new techniques and share experiences.

And they had a treat in store for us. When we

arrived we saw two men pouring what seemed to

be a flammable liquid over shells on a piece of

matting and setting them alight. It was a clam

barbecue, ready in minutes and served with

local firewater.

And that was just for starters; a full lunch

followed. This was a sign of the hospitality

that would greet us everywhere this week. There

is a saying in North Korea - 'even if we are

eating gruel we will give the guests rice'.

They're obviously sorry to say goodbye to Mike

and are very grateful for the work done here,

but they have to accept the government

decision. It could be a long time before they

have contact with foreigners again.
Day Four - Tuesday 22 November
Today we went up the mountains, up to the

snowline for the first time. North Korea is 80%

mountainous, which is why producing enough food

is always going to be impossible. Once again,

everywhere we went there were people dragging

home the last of the harvest.

We crossed over a beautiful mountain pass to

reach the town of Hoichang. Some of the scenery

is really stunning. When we arrived the local

kindergarten had laid on some entertainment.

Concern had put in latrines here and had also

put in new windows and doors to keep out the

cold. The children, all girls dressed in pink,

had an hour-long routine ready, but we could

only stay a short while.

The singing was incredible in itself, perfectly

in tune, but the choreography was quite

amazing. Everyone was in sync with each other

in a robotic kind of way. In fact, it was

spooky. And when I asked what the lyrics were,

I was told 'the kindergarten is the bosom of

mother, the kindergarten is the bosom of the

Party'. These were five-year-olds.

Then we went to visit a village where Concern

had helped install running water. The women of

the village were thrilled. Up to now they had

to walk up the mountain for drinking water and

wash their clothes and vegetables in the

stream, which they said was icy cold in winter.

It's the kimchi season, so they were all busy

pickling cabbage to get them through the

winter. Back in Pyongyang we manage to get out

on our own for a while and get some street

scenes on the mini DV camera. Despite several

requests we haven't been allowed to visit any

of the private markets that are the only

outward sign of the market reforms of 2002. We

manage to film one street stall.

It's hardly going to bring the regime down, but

they seem incredibly reluctant to show any

evidence of private enterprise. And yet at the

same time they are asking us how they can

improve trade and learn from the Irish economic

model.

Day Five - Wednesday 23 November

Today had its bizarre elements but none more so

than our visit to a guesthouse where the Great

Leader, Kim Il-sung, had once stayed. I was

invited to use the room he had stayed in to

freshen up. As customary it had a photograph

celebrating his visit on the wall. It also had

a massive en-suite bathroom - with an

electrically heated red plush velvet toilet

seat.

Earlier we had visited the latrines that

Concern had built for a series of apartment

blocks in the town of Dokchon. Clean water and

proper sanitation is one of the best ways of

preventing disease such as diarrhoea, which

needlessly kills thousands of children here.

Dualta O'Ruhin from Kiltimagh in Co Mayo has

been working on these projects for 18 months.

He's very sorry to be leaving, and notes that

because of North Korea's modus operandi he

won't be able to stay in touch with the friends

he has made here.

It was a grim area. Outside people were making

lumps of fuel from coal slag and mud. Heating

their homes will be really difficult this

winter.

We travelled on to Pukchang, through one of

North Korea's mining areas. Pukchang has one of

the country's largest coal power stations and

it's very polluted. They can't afford the

equipment to bring it up to scratch.

On the way we visit a clinic which has been

supported by Concern. The Irish agency had put

in a traditional birthing room and refurbished

the small wards, but when we took a look around

we couldn't find any patients. The sheets were

pristine and looked like they had been put on

freshly that morning.

When we asked where the patients were we were

told that they were all well and had gone home.

'But this is a 24-bed maternity unit,' I said.

'Is it really possible that there are no

mothers or babies?' The manager hung his head.

Then he insisted that we take a picture of him

and all the nurses on the steps. We could hear

sounds coming from another part of the clinic;

the missing patients presumably. Apparently

this is standard practice when foreigners visit

North Korean hospitals. Bizarre.

In Pukchang we checked in to the one and only

hotel. I got a 'suite' with a bedroom, a dining

room, a bathroom and an office. The 'office'

had three phones - one green, one beige, and

one orange - all sitting on little velvet

cushions. None of them worked. There was no

heating and it was freezing cold so we had

brought electric heaters from Pyongyang. Local

officials insisted on taking us out to dinner

where we ate very good Korean barbecued pork in

an icy restaurant. They tried to get me drunk

on local hooch. Without success.

Day Six - Thursday 24 November

I was woken this morning by the usual North

Korean alarm clock. At seven o'clock a hooter

goes to wake everyone up and shortly afterwards

a minivan with loudspeakers drives around

playing revolutionary music to encourage

everyone to get to work and school.

We hit the road straightaway as we had an

appointment with the Pyongyang institute of

foreign languages. There's a university level

course and also a secondary school which

specialises in intensive language studies. One

of the many murals of 'The Great Leader'

We met a class of 15-year-olds with excellent

English. They were having a lesson about

computers and without any difficulty they

defined virtual reality, modems, a computer

programme and even the World Wide Web.

But when I asked what websites they used the

room went silent. North Koreans, with rare

exceptions, aren't allowed to use the Internet.

There is a North Korean only site, but no

access to material from outside the country.

It's hard to see how the regime can keep the

Internet and mobile phones out of bounds

forever, but they are doing their best.

Day Seven - Friday 25 November

We barrelled down the Reunification Highway

toward the DMZ listening to Super Trouper at

full volume (the Concern local staff's

favourite travelling tape is Abba!). In the

middle of nowhere orange-bibbed women swept

leaves away from the median. There's no such

thing as unemployment here.

Today was our last day, and a chance to visit

Asia's Berlin wall, the Demilitarized Zone

(DMZ) that separates North and South Korea.

After World War II the Soviet Union and the US

divided Korea at the 38th parallel. In the

North, Kim Il-sung took power with a communist

government; in the South, a US-backed

government took control.

The Korean War of 1950-53 killed an estimated

five million people, but the border barely

changed. Since then it's been one of the

world's most tense standoffs. The two sides are

still technically at war, though a ceasefire

was signed in 1953.

There isn't much of a build-up until you see a

long row of large rocks. Some kind of anti-tank

barrier, I guess. We pass a sign that says

Seoul 70 km, but of course there's no way of

getting there. Tomorrow we will have to fly to

Beijing from Pyongyang and then take another

flight to Seoul. A North Korean officer

explains the demilitarized zone

Then we arrive at a modest building and are

introduced to a North Korean Lieutenant

Colonel. He will be our guide. No opportunity

is missed to make it clear to us that the US is

to blame for the division of Korea, and that it

is the US that has carried out provocative

moves over the years. In fact, North Korea has

made several attempts to tunnel into the South.

We drive down into the zone, a four-kilometre

wide strip of land, where no arms except side

arms are permitted. At the actual border North

Korean soldiers and their South Korean

counterparts (with UN flashes on their

uniforms) stand just centimetres apart.

The South Koreans wear US-style uniforms and

shades and walk around the place peering at us

through their binoculars. The North Koreans

stand rigidly to attention. It's their turn to

man the UN hut which straddles the border, and

the Lt Colonel takes great delight in telling

us that he and we are standing inside South

Korea.

There's no sense here that the third world war

is about to break out. It all feels very

contained. And yet the nuclear threat remains

real, even if it's the ultimate bargaining chip

that has no value once used, as of course the

regime would be annihilated in return.

Day eight - Saturday 26 November

We got our phones back and checked in, with the

tapes in my handbag just in case anything went

wrong. North Korea had been fascinating and

frustrating, but also remarkably friendly. It

was sometimes hard to remember that behind the

brief glimpses we had witnessed, there is also

an infrastructure of prison camps and

repression that goes unseen.

We landed back at Beijing Airport Terminal 2,

Gate 16, the same place we departed a week ago.

In the meantime, we had learnt that the twice-

weekly Air Koryo flight - the main link with

the outside world - always operates from this

gate.

In the leaders and numbers obsessed world of

North Korea, 16 February (16/2) is Kim Jong-

il's birthday.
.