By Bae Keun-min
Staff Reporter




When singer and actor Ricky Martin toured Asia in August 2003, he basically summed up the essence of an artist’s desire in a media conference in Hong Kong.
``I love what I do. I don’t know how to do anything else. I want to die on stage,’’ he said.

Pak Mi-gyoung, 39, a certified hair stylist and former troupe member in North Korea, can attest to that claim.

In late 1990s, she risked her life to defect and escaped to China. She wandered in China for about two years before arriving in South Korea. Back in the North, she was a singing member of a troupe for 15 years. But during her days in China, her life-expertise and dreams were put on hold.

In Seoul, in 2002, Pak was asked to join the first troupe of defectors in the South.

``I was so grateful to be able to sing on the stage again. I was trembling with excitement,’’ Pak said in an interview with The Korea Times. ``Singers delight most in singing on stage and feel so alive when audiences cheer over their performance.’’

She and her colleagues of the troupe, Pyeongyang National Performing Arts Company, sang high-pitched North Korean songs and showed dance moves in front of Lotte Department Store in downtown Seoul on Sunday. They will also be on a TV program, ``People, Into the World (Pipul, Sesangsuguro),’’ on KBS Thursday.

The art troupe, based in Seoul at the moment, is comprised of only 15 North Korean defectors. Founded as the nation’s first troupe of defectors in 2002, the company performs about 100 times per year at local festivals and special events across the nation.

The company is among some five troupes of defectors in the nation, performing songs and staging theatrical performances of the North, according to Joo Myung-shin, president of the troupe.

``They want to breathe and live performing, as that is the only thing they learned and did in the Communist nation,’’ Joo said.

The troupes tap into South Koreans’ curiosity about traditional performing arts in North Korea. The nostalgic demand of North Koreans who settled in South Korea around the 1950-1953 Korean War also provides an audience.

``People come to see our performance out of curiosity and commiseration for our defector status. They said they had wondered whether our show looked similar to what they saw on TV,’’ Joo said. ``They said, after watching the show, they felt we are all one nation.’’

However, reality bites for the refugee entertainers. Joo said his troupe members appreciate the opportunity to live and perform in the South but they can’t savor full-fledged freedom here. ``There are many people who are afraid of appearing on TV, fearing that might hurt their families and relatives left in the North,’’ Joo said.

Even if they appear on TV, it is only for a limited number of times, which makes it difficult for them to live as full-time entertainers, he said.

``Performance fees heavily depend on fame in a capitalist society. But, due to the safety concern, we can’t build our reputation or fame through presenting ourselves over mainstream media even if some of us are more talented than any entertainers here,’’ Joo said. ``Our 15-member troupe once received a performance fee equal to 600,000 won, one 10th of what a singer got when he performed on the same stage we did at a regional festival.’’

As North Korean entertainers here have to perform sporadically, they have second jobs. Pak earned a professional certificate as a hairstylist after she had studied at a private institute for eight months; Joo is a certified part-time singing teacher for the tone-deaf.

``Most performers from North Korea work at part-time jobs as they can’t make ends meet only performing. They study to get a professional certificate for a job, which is not related to what their hearts desire,’’ Pak said. ``They just try to live here and get adjusted.’’

Sporadic performances and the wish to live by working at the performing arts sometimes produce an undesirable outcome. Joo said a couple of North Korean defector troupes belong to local companies and work like snake-oil peddlers.

``Some companies drum up old people, saying they will present a free concert by defectors. After presenting a 20-minute show, the companies reveal their real intention, which is to sell their products. The problem is that the companies charge audiences a lot for low-quality products,’’ Joo said. ``It was really sad to hear such news over the media, and the news also caused hard times for us when we try to promote our show.’’

With the number of North Korean defectors arriving in South Korea rapidly rising, the government’s assistance has often been questioned. Those defectors who want to remain true to their artistic callings have to lean on themselves to live as entertainers and to ``die on stage,’’ although they actually desire government assistance.

``The governmental programs for defectors resettling here focus on job training to get skills for a professional certificate, such as cosmetologists and electricians,’’ a Unification Ministry official said, requesting anonymity, as he Although the number of North Korean defectors here recently rose to 7,700 people as of last year, artists account for a small portion, less than 100. It is hard for us to prepare a special program for such a small group.’’

Despite various hardships, Pak is determined to pursue her career.

``I want to sing as long as I can, until I die,’’ she said.

``Our dream is the unification of the two Koreas as soon as possible so that we can perform wherever we want and pursue our careers without concerns about safety of my family and relatives,’’ Pak said.

kenbae@koreatimes.co.kr