By Ro Jong Sim living in neighbourhood unit No. 4
of Tongmun-dong No. 1, Taedonggang District, Pyongyang
“Are you happy?” This is the question I have been asked quite often for 20 years since I got married to a special-class disabled soldier.
Then I have usually answered: “Each person has his or her own happiness. I am truly happy as I am the wife of a man who loves life and pursues his goal of life with strong willpower, though disabled.”
My husband did military service admirably to receive lots of decorations including a Kim Il Sung Youth Honour Prize, the top honour of Korean young people.
In my maidenhood I had heard a lot about him from my elder brother who was doing military service with him, and I could not turn my face away from him when he suffered an accident just before his demob.
Initially, I was motivated by a feeling of sympathy and some sense of obligation to “sacrifice” myself for the comrade-in-arms of my brother.
But I later realized it was never a sacrifice as I rather led a fulfilling life feeling true happiness.
The state has offered more benefits to this family of honoured disabled soldier and my colleagues, villagers and even strangers take warm care of my husband and family, being solicitous about his medical treatment and our living.
Though it has been 20 years since my husband was discharged from military service, his former comrades-in-arms and servicemen of younger generation still visit us, calling him “our assistant platoon leader” and making much of us, so their sincerity brings a lump to my throat.
How can I compare the delight of living under the warm affection and care of all to the pains I have taken in doing housework?
A few years after our marriage, my husband began to write poetry about his military service and optimism about new life.
He wrote each poem not with his hand, but with his heart. “O motherland, you have soldiers”, “Is this the house of honoured disabled soldier?”, “I stand on the land once again” and many other pieces were carried on newspapers and magazines and highly appreciated at national literary work prize contests.
Whenever we received congratulations from people, I happily recollected the days and nights when I helped him with those poems and felt more keenly love and respect for the fervent husband.
He would compose me such simple yet sentimental poems as “The hands of my wife” and these are the most precious and dearest gifts for me in the world.
My son is also a source of my happiness. He has got his father’s passion and my looks. The 15-year-old studies at East Pyongyang Middle School No. 1 and his sound and healthy growth adds more to our happiness and pride.
The state let me take part in the third national meeting of mothers and made sure that my family was widely introduced through newspapers and broadcasts.
I have nothing left to wish for since I live enjoying my husband’s burning love and blessings of society.