Father, I am your son

By Jason Lim

No, I am not rewriting the famous Star Wars scene from Luke’s point of view. I am actually quoting Chae Hee-yang, 65 years old, who met his father, Chae Hoon-shik who is 88 years old, for the first time in his life in last week’s Divided Families Reunion. Hoon-shik and his wife, Lee Ok-yeon, were separated by the Korean War when Lee was five months pregnant, never to see each other again (or even know whether either one was alive or not) until they met again in the reunion event.

However dramatic and crazy their story sounds, it’s far from unique. My own father was only a teenager when he escaped the North just ahead of the rapidly advancing Red Chinese Army in winter of 1950. His whole family ― father, mother, and younger sister ― left together but the father sprained his ankle on the treacherous, frozen road. So, they went back home to let the father heal while sending their only son ahead since he would have the most to lose if he were caught by the communists.

That was the last time they saw one another. Even to this day, we don’t know what happened to my father’s family who were stuck in the North. Most likely, they perished during the war since Pyongyang, where they lived, was pretty much bombed out of existence by the U.S. Airforce during the war. However, one of them might have survived. It’s the not knowing that really tortures the mind.

With millions of Koreans whose families have been separated by Korea’s division, it’s no wonder that some refer to the divided families as the longest running human rights abuse in the world. Unfortunately, only 18,800 Koreans were lucky enough to participate in the 19 rounds of face-to-face reunions meetings that started in 1985. Even in the U.S., there are about 100,000 Korean Americans – like my dad ― who have families in the North.

The issue of divided families is inextricably tied to the current geopolitical narrative of Korea. In short, divided families can’t see each other because the Koreas are not unified.

But can we step back and examine the assumption underlying this narrative? What does unified mean in the context of divided families? Does it mean the same as Unification with the big “U” or can we just for a moment imagine unification with a small “u” for people like my dad?

In other words, do the divided families really have to wait for a Grand Bargain among all the geopolitical players involved in which every gram of plutonium is weighed, all the thousands of uranium centrifuges counted, and intercontinental missile parts are tagged? Or, do they have to wait for an implosion in North Korea in which the Kim Dynasty is toppled, all the current elites are imprisoned, and a Truth and Reconciliation Committee is established to inform a transitional justice framework?

Is all that necessary for folks like my Dad? All he would want is to just hop on a plane in Newark, New Jersey, and land in Pyongyang after 15 hours, flag a taxi or rent a car with a map, arrive where his childhood home used to be, and look around to reminisce? Perhaps he could even bring his children and grandchildren along to point out the beaches along the Daedong River where he used to swim all day and the small island where fishermen would cook up a pot of fish stew that they would let him have. If he’s really lucky, perhaps he could find an old neighbor or friend that he used to play with and ask them after his family. Only in an impossible dream would he find his younger sister or her descendants still living in the area.

That would be unification enough for my dad. It’s not that he bears any love for the current North Korean regime. He still bears a scar across his chest from a North Korean bullet 65 years ago.

But he would like to see his family once again. Or, at least, find out whether they are still alive or not. He will be 83 years old this December. He was 18 years old the last time he saw his father limping back home, with his mother and younger sister looking back at him and waving goodbye. "Take care and see you soon,” they said to him. Didn’t quite work out that way. For him and millions of others.

Don’t you think that he would like to see some old, wrinkled woman would come up to him and say, ``Oppa! I am your younger sister. How have you been?”

Does he really have to wait for some grand peace treaty and high-sounding peace framework to have a chance to hear those words? What good is Unification if it prevents people from connecting with their own families, let along other people? Where are the people in all these talks about Unification?

Small "u” unification, anyone?

Jason Lim is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture. He has been writing for The Korea Times since 2006. He can be reached at jasonlim@msn.com, facebook.com/jasonlimkoreatimes and @jasonlim2012.