All Woman and Springtime by Brandon Jones

lowered her head.
    “You are to be immediately removed from your home and taken to prison to await trial.”
    “I have neglected my duties as homemaker,” Mother pleaded. “Please don’t make my family suffer for my unworthiness. Take me but leave my family!”
    “No! I’m to blame, as the head of this household,” Father tried to bargain.
    “It is not only the portraits. There are other charges against you, which you will learn about at your trial. We reserve the right to detain three generations for transgressions such as this. I see three generations here. You all must go.”
    “No!” Father shouted. “We work very hard for the glory of our Dear Leader. We attend meetings with our work units daily. My mother takes care of our home. Look at her eyes. She can barely see! She gets confused sometimes. Please give us a chance.”
    “You are still found wanting. You can give the circumstances of your case at your trial. They may see fit to be lenient with you, but that is not my decision.”
    “No, please!” Father begged. One of the soldiers hit him hard across the face with the butt of his rifle. Blood rushed from his nose and he whimpered. Mother cried. They were led to a truck outside and never saw their home again.

9
    W ITHIN A WEEK AFTER the mistress first met with him, Father Lee came to the back door of the orphanage with a large box of food. That was nearly six years ago. It contained mostly rice and beans, as well as forged ration coupons and some soap. It was not a lot of food, considering the many girls she was responsible for feeding, but, along with her state rations, it would keep them from starving. The mistress offered him tea, so as not to seem ungrateful or rude, but she hoped he would decline. Receiving illicit goods was grounds for imprisonment, and she did not want to be caught accepting them or fraternizing with a Christian. To her frustration, he accepted.
    Every layer of Chosun society was organized and stratified. The inminbanjang was a neighborhood watcher, of sorts, who was responsible for keeping tabs on the coming and going of her neighbors. She was expected to report anyone in her district who engaged in suspicious activity or failed to participate in social events. The orphanage was considered its own independent district, and by default the mistress was made inminbanjang. Technically, the inminbanjang was supposed to attend extra meetings and training, but that would have meant the mistress’s superiors having to stand in for her at the orphanage. For her they waived the requirement.
    Being the inminbanjang meant that the mistress was beyond scrutiny from below; and because her superiors preferred to ignore her, she was practically invisible from above. It seemed that there was a tiny hole in juche itself in which she fit perfectly, obscured from the eyes of the Republic that otherwise could see everywhere. Still, the presence of Father Lee, who was intent on lingering, made the mistress nervous.
    “I cannot thank you enough for giving this food to us,” she said, impatience pushing at the restraint in her throat.
    “Thank our savior, not me,” he replied unctuously. “Have you been praying to him?”
    “Every day,” she lied.
    “Good. Have you had a chance to read from the Bible?”
    “I have, a little.” This time she was telling the truth. Reading it was tempting, because of how dangerous it was. When she read it she felt like she was examining a relic from an alien world. She had not been given much room to contemplate life or history outside of Chosun . Now here, laid out before her, was a whole new history, none of which remotely involved Chosun . The Great Leader was not even a minor character in the stories of the Bible.
    “Very good! It pleases me to spread the word of God.” He held his smile a little too long. The mistress had a feeling that he wanted something. “I would like to meet some of the girls here,” he blurted after an uncomfortable silence.