ACTA KOR

ANA
VOL. 13, NO. 1, JUNE 2010: 135145

LITERATURE IN TRANSLATION
Introduction by BRUCE FULTON
Kim Nam-chn was born in Sngchn, South Pyngan Province, in 1911. He was
attending Hosei University in Japan when he joined the Korean Artist Proletarian Federation
(KAPF) in 1929. Returning to Korea in 1931, he immediately involved himself in the labor
movement while launching a career as a writer; he also worked for the Chosn chungang ilbo, a
Seoul daily. His activism earned him a two-year prison sentence in the early 1930s. By 1947,
when he re-settled in what was to become North Korea, he had published some fifty stories,
a novel, and a play, as well as a massive amount of critical writing. It is a measure of Kims
importance in Korean proletarian literature that when KAPF was finally forced to disband by
the Japanese authorities in 1935, it was he, along with Im Hwa and Kim Ki-jin, who was
delegated to deliver the requisite notice of dissolution. The Factory Newspaper (Kongjang
shinmun) was Kims first story, published in the Chosn ilbo in July 1931, and it draws upon his
participation in the August 1930 general strike of the Pyongyang Rubber Factory.

THE FACTORY NEWSPAPER

By KIM NAM-CHN
Translated by YOUNG-JI KANG
1.
The autumn wind stirred the ripened stalks of grain on the Potongbl plain,
twisting and turning through this paddy and that, one dry field and the next,
before coming up short against the railroad tracks that split the plain east and west.

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After scattering among the white aspens on a nearby hill, the wind kicked up anew,
dancing just above the fields, leaving billowing crests of grain in its wake.
The sky had deepened to a cloudless blue. Two planes flying in tandem
performed loops high above Kija Forest; from the ground they looked like
dragonflies.
The lunchtime siren had sounded twenty minutes earlier. Kwan-su considered
the Peace Rubber Factory appearing on the crimson smokestack rising beside
the road, placed his empty bento on the yellowing grass, and lit a Macau. With no
water to wash down his meal, the cigarette tasted good. He took a deep draw,
exhaled, and sank back on the hillside, stretching wide his arms and legs. He gazed
at the vast sky. The smoke wavered above his face, grew faint, and yielded to the
blue as the wind blowing through the bushes carried away the smell. He drew
deeply and repeated the process.
Worry not, dangerous are the weapons of solidarity and unity.
A worker ran down the road singing this song, the words ringing clear in
Kwan-sus ears. The ground rumbled from a still distant train approaching on the
nearby tracks. The only other sound was the rustling of the rice stalks in the
paddies as they swayed in the wind.
At times, Kwan-su was exceedingly subdued. But when he was by himself like
this and had a smoke, his feelings of anxiety would ease. Which made him realize
just how anxious he had been lately.
He had tried every possible way, drawing on every last drop of his wisdom
and experience, to carry out his allotted duties, but it was not working out
according to plan.
How could he get a handle on even the smallest complaint, the tiniest
dissatisfaction? How to present the complaints and dissatisfactions arising in the
factory? Someone, though, had to play a leadership role. How could he uproot the
power of the corrupt union officials? The more Kwan-su tried the more he failed,
and the more dejected and anxious he became. He wished for comrades who
could advise him, but in his eyes, every potential comrade had shortcomings.
Kwan-su was still handicapped by the need he felt for men who were experienced
and able. And so he had neglected those who possessed the right temperament
and were of a passable ideological stripe but who lacked cultivation and training.
But even if he had never considered this in the first place and had simply plunged
ahead in his effort to play a leading role, it would have been useless. Because all
the able men were goneever since the strike that summer.
Kwan-su knew that he was far from perfect, though he couldnt have
explained exactly what his shortcomings were. And these imperfections, whenever
he was reminded of them, made him long for someone to instruct him.

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This past summer, after the strike had met with failure and the workers
fighting spirit was utterly broken, propaganda, unspeakably vile, had spread
unchecked from factory to factory. The man he had unexpectedly met at that time,
a man who had entered his life for a lightning instant, had not been heard from
sincea good two months now.
I wish he was here now. The man had spoken with perfect composure and in a
way that made it clear to Kwan-su that he was not from this area. It was a mystery,
though, how he knew the circumstances surrounding the strike and what they
planned to do next in its aftermath. Why, he was better attuned to the happenings
in Pyngyang than the people who lived here.
After meeting this man, Kwan-su had pondered. He couldnt very well tell
anyone about their encounter. After all, Il-hwan, who had delivered the message
to meet the man, had gotten himself arrested on charges of assault and battery,
the particulars of which we wont go into here. At any rate, there was a connection between the two of them, he was sure of it. But how did Il-hwan know
this man in the first place?
During the strike, Kwan-su had had several such encounterspeople with
whom he had had no prior acquaintance. But there was something about this man
with round, limpid eyes, something that others didnt have. How could he even
hope of seeing him again?
Well probably meet again in a month or so, or else well find a way to keep in
touch, the man had said.
Kwan-su had waited for the man to say more.
The man had pondered a moment, eyes downcast, before continuing.
I have a suggestion for you. Pay special attention to the names of any people
you happen to meet from now on, and if the first element of the given name
starts with a t sound and the Chinese character for it has eleven strokes, then you
can trust that person. And before too long, you just might have yourself some
comrades you can work with.
And with that he had given Kwan-su a powerful handshake, then left without
a backward look.
A month passed, and anotherstill no news.
As he lay on the hillside, Kwan-su could picture his encounter with that man.
T sound, eleven strokes. T sound, eleven strokes.
The siren blared. Brushing bits of dry grass from his bottom, he picked up his
bento and set off down the road toward the factory.
Kwan-su! Hey, Kwan-su!!
He looked up. The voice was coming from a small group of workers who

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were anxiously beckoning him from in back of the factory. Many more were
running in from the road to flock in front of the factory entrance. Somethings
happened.
Whats going on? came a jumble of high-pitched voices.
Clutching his bento to keep it from clattering, Kwan-su dashed down the road.
2.
The corridor to the workroom was flanked with serried rows of men and women.
The workers at the far end were yelling, faces purple with anger, while those just
arrived merely murmured, unaware of what had happened. One young man
nudged the man in front of him with his knees and laughed when the other
looked back with a start.
Kwan-su strained to catch the details, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd.
Whatever it was, it didnt seem to be happening in the corridor, but somewhere
between the corridor and the room with the water tap. This time, he was going to
do something, Kwan-su told himself. He needed to get inside that room. Poking
and prodding, he threaded his way through the crowd.
You think we can live without water?
Kwan-su poked his head into the room.
All of you, stop fussing and be quiet! The man who said this couldnt keep
his voice from trembling.
I cant believe ityou cut the water to the faucet to make us go outside and
drink that swill! What do you think we are, swine?
This voice was so loud that the mutterings died down and, for the moment at
least, the crowd was united in silence.
All right everybody, lets do our talking outside where theres more room.
Yeah, lets go outside!
Recognizing the first voice as that of Managing Director Choe, Kwan-su
knew immediately that the follow-up shout had come from Kim Chae-chang, one
of the staffers in the Rubber Workers Union. Listen to him, already sticking his oar in.
Go outside? What for? Whats wrong with staying here?
The words were out of Kwan-sus mouth before he knew it. Chae-chang had
that effect on him.
No no no, lets have our discussion outside!
There was something of the trained voice in Chae-changs delivery, and the
workers responded by ignoring Kwan-su and going out into the yard.
Stop pushing, youre knocking me over!

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Telling us to drink out of that wellmight as well drink out of an open

sewer, seriously! As if were bleeding the company by drinking out of the faucet.
They treat us like wretches!
As they spilled out into the yard, Kwan-su found himself joining the eager
chattering all around him.
What happened to the improved labor conditions we were supposed to get
after the last strike?
Yeah, tell me about it!
In no time, the noisy throng had packed the yardwomen and men, old and
young, here a worn face and there a pair of bloodshot eyes. Looking on, heads
sticking out from the sizing room, were the mixers, the stokers, and the other
skilled workers. Others, unable to join the crowd outside, pressed up against
windows, their faces like so many drops of water.
A door opened, and Managing Director Choe appeared, waving his hands to
subdue the chattering crowd. We didnt turn the water off to keep you from
drinking itno, that wasnt the reason, he began.
Then how come you slapped the man who tried to use the faucet? came a
bass voice from the crowd.
He was acting uppity, said Choe. And it was a spur-of-the-moment-thing,
nothing more.
Bullshit! shouted someone from up close. Since when is it uppity to want a
drink of water?
You could almost hear a collective gasp from the crowd and see warm blood
color their faces. No one had insulted the managing director like this since the
strike.
Fellow workers, broke in Kwan-su, his head poking out from the heart of
the crowd. Why do we need to bother? We can take care of this ourselves!
Good idea!
One lone person applauded. Before long, that one person became two and
then the entire crowd followed suit, filling the yard with the sound of their
clapping. The applause was punctuated with unintelligible yells. Emboldened,
some took to shoving the managing director inside. Others then slammed the
office door shut. The sequence was repeated, and clapping broke out anew each
time.
Buoyed by the momentum, Kwan-su seized the last of the applause to proceed with what he had to say.
Fellow workers, what has happened just now shows that they want us to go
down to the well near the bridge for our water. We all know that the water in that
well isnt fit for human consumption.

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Yes, we do! came the voice of a woman clinging to the sill of an open
window.
This drew some chuckles.
Yeah, and so where do they get off slapping people for wanting to drink out
of the faucet? How are we supposed to wash down our lunches?
Lets go get that bum!
Here we all are in a weakened state already and now theyre going to strip us
of our harmless privilegehow low can they get?
Cries of Thats right! and Yeah! came from all directions.
Fellow workers, think about it. How many promises did the owners make us
when we went on strike? Two? Or was it three? And have they kept a single one
of these promises? And is there anyone among you who enjoys slaving away over
this stinking rubber each and every day?
I should say not!
A few chuckles always greeted the airy, high-pitched voices of the women.
Kwan-sus gaze swept over the crowd. We work so we dont have to go
hungry! Having hammered home his point, he once again considered the crowd.
Their faces were flushed with excitement. And then his eyes glanced across the
yard and there, at the door to the office, stood Chae-chang. Kwan-su swallowed
once, then picked up where he had left off.
If we dont come up with a response, the owners will rob us of every last
privilege we have!
This brought a remark, the import of which we are not at liberty to repeat
here, a remark, though, that served to bring Kwan-su up short. At which point
Chae-chang jumped in.
Fellow workers.
And suddenly, all eyes were on him.
As comrade Kwan-su just said, we clearly need to plan our response!
Thats right!
But if were too agitated and we act prematurely, well be left out in the cold.
And, its dangerous to hold a meeting like this out in the open. This is why we
have a union. The wise thing to do is report to the union and await their decision.
The workers need to be united with the union. Well only spoil things if we go our
own way. In case any of you are thinking we need to elect new committee
members, remember, we already have the union executive committee. Just leave
everything to me and Ill go report to them!
Fellow workers, said Kwan-su, punching the air in a rage. If only he could
discredit Chae-chang. We can take care of this on our own!

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Kwan-su! Listen to me, dont you know anything about the law? Its
dangerous to be making a fuss like this out hereholding a meeting outdoors is
illegal! Besides, its not worth it. The union can do anything you can by yourself,
only better, and no one gets hurt. All right then, my fellow workers, just turn
things over to me! And I suggest we break up now before the owners get wind of
this.
3.
Kwan-su didnt feel like eating, even though it was time for dinner. Here we go
againone more opportunity stolen by a guy who sold himself off, one more grievance down the
drain. The thought mortified him. And I hate the way they all get taken in by Chae-chang.
Tomorrow morning, the siren will sound again and theyll sit down nice and quiet and glue their
shoes and act like nothing happened, and that damned Chae-chang will kiss off the whole
business by saying he made his report and the union will take it from there.
If only hed been able to expose Chae-chang, that rotten union staffer, in
front of everyone that afternoonit would have been the perfect opportunity.
Kwan-su was vexed to the point of chagrin. If he were to expose Chae-chang, he
would have to expose the union as well. But was this the right time to play up the
corruption of the union? With such thoughts weighing upon his mind, he was
forever hesitant to act against Chae-chang. Damned unionsay what you might
about how it stood for the workers, it was nevertheless high time that its
corruption was brought out in the open.
What a depressing day!
Kwan-su was out of cigarettes. He looked for a stray butt, lifting the corner of
the reed mat he was sitting on. Therea little flat nubbin. He stuck it in the bowl
of the short pipe, lit it, and puffed away.
Number one! Someones here to see you, came his mothers voice, amid a
clatter of dishes, from the kitchen.
Kwan-su slid open the door. There stood Kil-sp, a fellow worker.
Dont just stand there, come on in!
Not nowdo you have a minute?
Kwan-su knocked the ashes from his pipe and went out, following Kil-sp
around to the back of the house.
I wish Id been able to come soonerwere short on time. Theres a man
waiting for you in front of the public meeting hall. Youll see three big poplars
there, and youll find him at the one on the far right.
Waiting for me? Who is he?
Youll recognize him when you see him. You better get going, its seven thirty,
and you dont want to be late.

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Kwan-su nodded.
His mother heard him putting on his rubber shoes and rushed out to the yard.
Where are you going? she said. What about dinner?
Dont worry, Ill be right back, he replied, and then he was off.
Along the way Kwan-su wondered who the man might be. The man hed met
after the strike came to mind. Him? If so, where does Kil-sp fit into this? Well, anythings
possible. So is it really that man with the round, limpid eyes? Or could it be someone else, and
would I recognize him? Is it the man with a name that starts with a t and the Chinese
character for it has eleven strokes? Deep in thought, he walked the darkening road in
the outskirts of the city. Near the public meeting hall, he peered inside a store and
saw on the clock that he had a minute left.
He ran to the hall, dashed around back, spotted the poplars down belowno
one there. But then, a man appeared at the trees and lit a cigarette. His clothes
were shabby.
Kwan-su ran down the hill, his heart pounding. It was Chang-sn, his fellow
worker!Hey! said Chang-sn through a cloud of smoke. He beckoned Kwan-su.
I worked myself up for this? said Kwan-su to himself. And I was wondering if Id
recognize this man? Chang-sn had managed to find a job at the factory along with
the other new hires after the strike. Obviously, he wasnt the man with the t
sound in his name. What could he possibly have to tell me? muttered Kwan-su to
himself as he set off with Chang-sn.
Hey, did you happen to meet a man at Kyngsanggol after the strike? asked
Chang-sn as he blew another cloud of smoke.
Indeed Kwan-su had. But he shook his head no. If Chang-sn had been the
man with the t sound in his name, then maybe.
Are you sure? The man gave Kwan-su a look, then broke into a grin and
nodded. All right, my name isnt Chang-sn, its Pak Tae-sun. So saying, the
man extended his palm and with his forefinger wrote the Chinese character for
Tae.
T sound, eleven strokes!
Kwan-su looked up, briefly regarded the man, clutched his hand.
Do you trust me now? said the man.
You bet I do!
Embarrassed by the sudden display of emotionthough the streets were
empty and no one would have noticedthe two men let each others hand drop.
Ill fill you in on the details later; weve got to get somewhere by eight. The
man set out ahead, and turned left at the next corner, with Kwan-su behind him.

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It was eight oclock sharp when they arrived at a house. Inside, people were
gathered around a lamp. Kwan-su started. Wasnt that Kil-sp? And Tong-chan,
and Sn-ny, and Chang-ho, and Po-mus mom?
Before he knew it, he had gone inside and shut the door behind him.
4.
The workers, two hundred fifty of them, were gluing together rubber shoes in the
big L-shaped patch room. The autumn sun shone through the windows, shafts of
light capturing the dust suspended in the air.
It was nearly noon, and the factory was quiet; it was as if the incident the
previous day had never happened. There was only the dull thump of hands on the
glued rubber cutouts wrapped about the molds that would soon become shoes,
and the oppressive plod of footsteps.
Back and forth to the toilets went Kwan-su, Chang-sn, Sn-ny, Kil-sp,
and some others. The occasional meaningful glance passed among them.
Finally the noontime siren howled. Nothing had happened thus far, the
workers going about their business in an atmosphere of unease.
The siren was followed by the patter of feet, as the workers picked out their
bento and went outside in groups of two or more. They liked to find themselves a
grassy place to eat, remaining inside only in winter or on rainy days.
Kwan-su joined one of the groups and took his place on the grass. What do
you suppose Chae-chang will have to say? he asked, easing his way into the
conversation. Where the hell is he anyway? Isnt he back from seeing the union
people?
Well, Im sure well have some sort of report from him, replied one of the
others importantly as he plopped himself down.
What the heck is this? The speaker produced a sheet of paper from inside
the wrapping of his bento.
Hey, Ive got one too! This worker displayed an identical sheet of paper.
Feigning ignorance, Kwan-su looked inside his bento wrapper. Not me!
Neither do I!
Me neither! What is it anyway?
A group formed around each sheet.
The thin rice-paper sheet was studded with small letters beneath the bold
heading: Peace Rubber Factory News, Issue No. 1.
Factory News? Well, well, well. Our very own factory newspaper! Is this for
real? chuckled a worker. He began to read the contents out loud.
Another worker pointed at an image near the bottom. Whats that?
Hey, isnt that Chae-chang?

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And thats Managing Director Choe!

What are they doing?
Kwan-su took a closer look. Thats money hes giving him! he hooted.
The man next to Kwan-su silently read the caption. Look at that no-good
Chae-chang, he laughed. Hes taking a bribe!
Ooo, this is getting interesting. Whats the article say?
Someone began to read out loud: Who was it that sold us out at the strike
this past summer? It was corrupt union people like Kim Chae-chang! Should we
depend on no-goods like him? Absolutely not! He wins us over and then he
fattens his own belly. What happened yesterday is just the latest examplewe
should have taken care of that ourselves. Chae-chang has this way of shushing us
up and then doing whats right by the owners and yet all along he pretends hes
looking out for us! But we know betteryesterday, Chae-chang did his job and
kept the lid on, and for his troubles, he gets drinks, a fancy meal and a payoff
from the managing director. Its time for us to take actionfinish your lunches
and gather in the yard! Lets get rid of Chae-chang and the rest of those phonies!
We can elect our own leaders!
Wow, thats incredible!
Keep going!
Okay, but first, whats with the big type for Factory? Nicely written, except
its too squiggly. Lets see This factory newspaper belongs to all the rubber
workers! You can trust the factory newspaper! Its your newspaperkeep it alive!
Those who produced it are looking out for you! Brothers and sisters of the Peace
Rubber Factory! You know what to prepare yourselves for! Our brothers and
sisters at the other factories stand ready! Let us now gather in the yard and elect
our own leaders!
At this point Kwan-su pointed toward the factory entrance. Look! Our
comrades have gotten a head start!
Yeah, theyre already gathering!
Kwan-su jumped to his feet. Grab your bentos and lets go!
Yeah, lets get over there!
5.
The sound of applause filled the yard. The meeting was well under way.
All right then, lets get on with electing the organizing committee!
More applause.
How many should we elect?
A hand shot up. How about nine? I nominate Chang-sn!
Chuckling at the mans straightforwardness, the crowd clapped.

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Nine sounds good!

Yeah, Chang-sn!
Over here, I nominate Pak Sen-ne!
The men applauded. Lets hear it for Sen-ne, shes the prettiest one we got!
Im for Kwan-su!
Second that!
In no time, the nine members were elected.
Speech, speech!
More applause.
Chang-sns head popped up above the rest as he found some high ground
from which to speak.
Fellow workers, here we have our very own team of leaders. We, nine
members of the organizing committeeand lets think up a good brave name for
ourselveswe will do anything to represent your interests; we will fight for those
interests. Fellow workers, long live our brave organizing committee!
Manse, long live our organizing committee!
Manse!

YOUNG-JI KANG is a graduate of the University of British Columbia. She is currently

translating fiction by Yi Hyo-sk and Kim Nam-chn.