Word has spread like wildfire of the
Christian underground that helps fugitives to reach South Korea. People
who lived in silent fear now dare to speak about escape. The regime has
almost given up trying to stop them going, although it can savagely
punish those caught and sent back.
“Everybody knows there is a way out,” said a woman, who for
obvious reasons cannot be identified but who spoke in front of several
witnesses.
“They know there is a Christian network to put them in contact
with the underground, to break into embassies in Beijing or to get into
Vietnam. They know, but you have to pay a lot of money to middlemen who
have the Christian contacts.”
Her knowledge was remarkable. North Korean newspapers are
stifled by state control. Televisions receive only one channel which is
devoted to the Dear Leader’s deeds. Radios are fixed to a single
frequency. For most citizens the internet is just a word.
Yet North Koreans confirmed that they knew that escapers to
China should look for buildings displaying a Christian cross and should
ask among Korean speakers for people who knew the word of Jesus.
“The information blockade is like a dam and when it bursts there will be a great wave,” said Shin, the crusading pastor.
Here in the north of the country, faith, crime and sheer cold
are eroding the regime’s grip at a speed that may surprise the CIA’s
analysts: facts that should give ammunition to conservatives in
Washington who call for a hardline policy.
... The secret police cannot staunch the word of the
gospel. Two of our party turned out to be Christian businessmen who had
come from China carrying wads of cash. Korean-language Bibles have been
smuggled in by the hundreds.
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