When John Kim, not his real name, defected from North Korea in 2007 and settled in the South, he had a tough time communicating in Korean. English words were used so pervasively that he could not do simple things like order food or read signs.

“My friend told me to meet at ‘cafe Paris Baguette,’ but I had no clue what that meant. When I read menus, I didn’t know the meaning of ‘don-kkas’ (pork cutlet, from ‘donkatsu’) or ‘chicken,’” he told The Korea Herald last week. “English is part of life here and a necessary skill. It was not so in North Korea.”

In the reclusive communist country, English is taught “for the sake of teaching” and people learn English “for the sake of learning,” according to Kim.

English education starts in the last year of elementary school in grade five, and continues through the second year of university or professional vocational school. At the end of the fourth semester in university, students are tested on their ability to converse and translate.   

Graduates from the college of education teach English with a “hard, uniform British accent,” making conversations with Americans difficult.

“We are taught that learning a foreign language contributes to building a socialist and communist fatherland and nurturing masses loyal to the party and our supreme leader,” Kim said.

“North Koreans learn English not as the language of our proclaimed enemy America, but as an international lingua franca. By the same token, despite our extreme enmity toward Japan, we studied Japanese as an official foreign language to translate advanced science and technology manuals, and also to help our ethnic compatriots in Japan, the ‘Zainichi.’”

Kim is among 20 defectors from North Korea who will be enrolling in an English program launched by Serving Life International, a nonprofit humanitarian organization dedicated to the two Koreas’ unification and global peace. Since it was established in 2006, SLI has helped with defectors’ settlement here by providing humanitarian services and goods.

The program, offered free of charge, consists of “Enjoy English,” a twelve-week course taught by native teachers starting in April and August, and “E++ English Unification Camp,” a three-day outing for students and teachers in mid-June. It is sponsored by the Korea Hana Foundation, which supports the settlement of North Korean refugees.

In light of the marketization of North Korea, people’s “hearts and minds” have drifted away from the regime, Kim stressed.

“Younger generations have grown up witnessing their parents muddling through the market, with no visible benefits from the state,” he noted. “They snort at the party and the supreme leader. No matter how closed off and reclusive the country is, change is inevitable.”

Kim said a deluge of South Korean and American TV series and movies have seeped into the tightly controlled society. People watch heaps of DVDs through the night, stirring their monotony with images of a wealthy consumerist neighbor.

“By watching South Korean dramas and movies, we realized that English was an essential part of life down south,” he highlighted. “We felt English proficiency would be necessary to develop our country and incorporate foreign cultures and technologies.”

A “certain degree” of freedom exists in the North, Kim pointed out, adding that “fundamental freedom” is restricted in a system of entrenched surveillance. “We watch movies together, go out on picnics and drink, but you cannot share your innermost feelings, even with your parents or closest friends.”

He added, “Everybody knows the situation outside, even those guarding the demilitarized zone. But you cannot protest, as three generations of your family will be purged and erased clean from records.”

With the United Nations sanctions coming into force, life will likely be more difficult, Kim projected, hoping that “people will still survive using skills acquired through the market.”

“The hardest thing since coming here was loneliness,” the project manager at SLI said. “Language was difficult, but it could be overcome. What really hurt were the cold stares of friends and colleagues after the sinking of corvette Cheonan and bombardment of Yeonpyeong Island in 2010.

“Children of defectors have a tough time in school because they are often ostracized by peers. They lose confidence and have to go to alternative schools.”

According to a survey of 2,400 defectors by the Ministry of Unification and the Korea Hana Foundation, 60 percent of them identified themselves as part of the lower socioeconomic class and 35 percent as middle class, compared to 44 percent of South Korea-born citizens who answered they belonged to the lower class and 53 percent to the middle class.

In contrast, 60 percent of the defector group believed that their children will fare better in the future, compared to 30 percent of South Koreans. Um Jong-sik, chairman of the Institute for Korean Integration of Society and former vice minister of unification, said at the program’s opening ceremony Sunday that the key to successful integration of defectors was employment and education.

“It’s not unusual that people from North Korea fall behind their compatriots who grew up here,” Kim claimed, pointing out they are often better educated and have wider networks and deeper pockets.

Highlighting over 30,000 defectors here, he said: “If people were a little more compassionate, understanding and supportive, it would help a lot. Treating everyone equally based on ability and merit, South Korea is a good society.”

Stephanie Sodeke, 32, education manager at SLI and teacher for the program, pointed out that defectors tend to have less confidence than other South Koreans and give up often.

“I want them to be able to introduce themselves in English by the end of the first course and gain confidence,” she said. “I hope that they can go to other countries and let people know about other aspects of North Korea -- that there is more to their lives than just a crazy dictator or nuclear bombs.”

By Joel Lee (joel@heraldcorp.com)