One Nation, Two Countries

If I have learned anything over my months here in Korea, it is this truism: Korea is a land that lives in tragedy all the time. Koreans live in a gentle sorrow which is relentless. This became more real to me on my recent tour to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) which arbitrarily separates this pennisula.

Imagine your neighbourhood being sliced in two. On one side is you and perhaps, if you are lucky, a few family members. On the other side are the rest of your friends and family. For political reasons, you can not speak to them, visit them, or communicate to them in any way. Not only this, but you would not even know if they are alive. This is the situation many Koreans live with every day.

Before I went to the DMZ, I knew the facts. I knew that Koreans were a single race people, that they have very strong family bonds and track their heritage back generations, and that the armistice line is arbitrary, but putting these things together in a meaningful way never came to me. But now it has.

As I looked out the window of the Joint Security Area (JSA) meeting room at a North Korean People's Army soldier standing almost shoulder to shoulder with his bretheren, the Republic of Korea soldier, I realized that the two men speak the same language, have the same heritage, and could possibly be cousins or decendents of a common ancestor. I also caught a small glimse of the real tragedy on this pennisula and the wounds they must feel.