North Korean Defectors Speak Out

North Korean defectors "Kyung Sik Yoon" and "Jin Hee Seo" in South Korea.

By Jimin Lee, CBS News Investigative Unit Intern

Jin Hee Seo remembers standing in the freezing cold on the banks of the Tumen River at the border of North Korea and China.

"I
was only 15 and I had to cross the river on a snowy winter day. I
climbed onto the back of my brother as he swam across to China," she
said.

Seo is one of an increasing number of North
Koreans who are fleeing an isolated, impoverished North Korea to start
new lives in South Korea's bustling cities where they face culture
shock, unemployment and often depression.


The number of defectors is sharply rising. In 1999 there were just
150 but last year nearly 3,000 North Koreans crossed the border
according to South Korean government statistics. Today there are an
estimated 20,000 North Koreans living in South Korea.

More than 70 percent of the defectors are women according to the Unification Ministry in South Korea.

"Women
in the North are less social. It allows them to avoid government
supervision and plot their escape discretely," said Henry Song, a
director at the Defense Forum Foundation in Virginia.

Two
defectors, Seo and 30-year-old Kyung Sik Yoon told CBS News of their
escape via Skype from a new coffee shop called Bliss and Bless in Seoul
where they both work. They did not want to use the webcam or their real
names for security reasons.

In North Korea Yoon said he had never used the internet.

"There is no such thing like the Internet. People suffer from the shortage of electronic supply," he said.

At school, Yoon said he was taught to believe that the United States was his lifelong enemy.

"North
Koreans call Americans 'Yang Ko Bak Ee' to make fun of their
appearances. They have long noses," Yoon said laughing. "We were taught
that 'Yang Ko Bak Ee should be killed'," he added.

Yoon
said a glitch in technology accidentally exposed him to the outside
world and prompted him to defect. He turned on the TV one night
expecting to watch a North Korean broadcast promoting the country's
worship of Kim Jung Il known as "Juche idealism."

"TV
documentaries are on mainly to educate," Yoon said, "It makes you
believe that North Korea is the best country in the world."

But
that night instead of a documentary, his television picked up a signal
from a South Korean television station. He saw pictures of glamorous
South Korean buildings and realized that his image of South Korea was
false.

The signal was too weak for him to watch the entire program, but that night he decided to leave home.

Yoon
said he now feels lucky to be in South Korea, "The idea of communism is
great where everyone is equal, however, it's totally different
depending on who your leader is," he said.

Seo left
North Korea when she was still in junior high school where she said she
was taught that South Koreans sell eyes, organs and blood for money and
that Americans and South Koreans lived in homelessness and poverty. But
she said her mother told her what she learned in school was not all
true.

"In class, we don't learn about the wars that
occurred in the world or what happened in Europe or Africa. They only
teach you about North Korea and its Juche Idea, Kimjungilism," she
recalled.

Seo said media reports of severe starvation and public executions in North Korea are true.

"There is no freedom at all. People only do whatever is asked. It's life without faith or meaning," she said.

She
said her father defected 14 years before she escaped, leaving her
family blacklisted by the government and shunned by neighbors and
friends.

"My family bitterly complained that my dad had ruined all of us--which he probably had," she said.

Seo
said her family's journey began on a freezing night when they left
their home to drive to the border. She said she was not allowed to tell
anyone they were leaving and could not say goodbye to her friends.

"Of course, it was very dangerous...If you get caught you will be killed. You should plan it to do it secretly," she said.




A Chinese farmer fishes in the Tumen river, at
Qingrong village in northeast China's Jilin province, across from
farmland in North Korea on the opposite side Thursday July 4, 1996.
Pervasive North Korean security along the river border prevents North
Koreans from crossing the river to escape near famine conditions in the
isolated communist state. (AP Photo/Greg Baker)

(Credit:
GREG BAKER)
(Credit:
GREG BAKER)
She
said her family paid people to drive them to the River and they paid
more other people to help them in China. Later in South Korea she
reunited with her father.

Defectors usually make their
way to South Korea after crossing the Tumen River, trekking across China
to Southeast Asia, where they are taken into custody by the South
Korean National Intelligence Service and interviewed for several weeks
to determine that they are actual defectors and not spies or
Chinese-Koreans. They are then sent to a resettlement center near Seoul
where newly-arrived defectors are debriefed for three months of social
orientation and given job training. After they graduate from the program
they are given financial assistance and released into South Korean
society.

Seo and Yoon faced challenges after they
arrived in South Korea. Like other defectors they had little money and
few skills and struggled to fit in with their heavy accents and
conservative clothing. The unemployment rate for defectors is four times
higher than the national average and the new freedom can be daunting.

"During
the weekend, I don't know how to choose among so many things to do,"
Yoon said. "In the North, we had to stay home because we didn't have
money or even physical energy to move around," Yoon added.

Moreover, he still finds it difficult to make friends or find a girlfriend in the south.

"It's hard to exchange trust with people in a new society. Friends in
the north are simple and naive. On the other hand, friends here are more
competitive and individualistic," Yoon said.

Many
defectors experience psychological problems because of the stress of
their new lives. One mental health clinic in Seoul reported a sharp
increase in defectors seeking help from 110 in 2007 to 12,979 in 2009
according to the Unification Ministry in South Korea. The suicide rate
for defectors is more than two and a half times higher than the ratio
for South Korean natives.

Yoon now works as a barista at Bliss and Bless and he said he enjoys working hard and getting paid.

"I
got paid almost 1.30 Million Won ($1,500) last month." Yoon said. "I
want to be an owner of the next franchise of Bliss and Bless and be an
example for the defectors coming to South Korea," Yoon said.

The
founder of the cafe, Dong Ho Kim, has made it his mission to hire North
Korean defectors to help them settle in their new environment. He hires
volunteers from the local community to teach defectors how to make
coffee and speak English.

He said more than two thirds
of the profit from Bliss and Bless funds local non-profits and is used
to support the resettlement of North Koreans.

The
manager of Bless and Bliss, Il Hwei Kim, said that the coffee shop also
teaches the defectors the economics of their new country.

"It's a strange thing for them to understand that dark bitter water (coffee) is more expensive than a bowl of rice." Kim said.