In Pyeongtaek, Gyeonggi Province, lives a North Korean refugee who began a new life in South Korea 14 years ago. Living with disabilities caused by polio, he crossed the Amnok River on his brother’s back and traveled halfway around the world before finally reaching Korea at the age of 47. Yun Seong-hyeon, now 61, was born in Hyesan, Yanggang Province, North Korea, into a working-class family. His father was a laborer, and his mother devoted herself to raising their three sons and one daughter. Seong-hyeon, the youngest, was diagnosed with polio just after his first birthday.
Becoming a watch repairer
As a child, Seong-hyeon often felt a deep sense of longing while watching other children play in the yard. All he could do was gaze through the window at the kids going to and coming from kindergarten or daycare. Thanks to his parents’ dedication, he was able to start elementary school at the age of eight. Fortunately, the school was nearby, and his parents took turns carrying him there on their backs. Starting in third grade, his homeroom teacher took over—carrying him to class and supporting him throughout his school life. That routine continued until Seong-hyeon graduated.
Despite frequently hearing dismissive remarks like, “What’s the point of educating a child with disabilities?” his parents remained steadfast. They never gave up on their youngest’s right to learn. Thanks to their unwavering commitment, Seong-hyeon was able to complete middle school. After graduation, he moved to Manpo, Jagang Province, to live with an aunt.
His aunt believed that every man should have at least one skill to rely on. She introduced Seong-hyeon to a watch repairer who worked at a local convenience cooperative. The man had decades of experience, dating back to the Japanese colonial period. Yet, he never offered formal instruction. Instead, he let Seong-hyeon quietly watch him work, observing every precise movement of his hands as he repaired broken watches. Those long, silent days became Seong-hyeon’s classroom. With patience and focus, he taught himself by memorizing each step and technique. Then one day, seemingly out of the blue, the watch repairer—slightly drunk—handed Seong-hyeon a broken watch and told him to try fixing it. Before he knew it, he took the watch, picked up the tools, and began disassembling it.
With the old craftsman watching, the moment was nerve-racking. Seong-hyeon failed to fix the watch—but that day wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. After a year of silent, self-directed learning, he returned to his hometown and began working as a watch repairer at the local cooperative at just 19 years old. In the mid-1980s, watch repair was a well-paying profession. Gifted with both intelligence and a natural feel for the craft, Seong-hyeon soon gained a reputation. Many clients came to him with watches that other repairers had failed to fix—and his growing reputation brought increasing earnings.
Time in China Led him to South Korea
Seong-hyeon married a woman two years younger than him, and their daughter was born in 1994. During the “March of Suffering”—North Korea’s devastating famine in 1990s—his clients dwindled, and his income sharply declined. Around that time, a cousin living in China arranged for someone to help him cross the Amnok River into China. Seong-hyeon stayed there for about six months. “At that time, North Korea didn’t allow people with disabilities to travel to China,” he recalls. “That’s why I had to cross the river illegally into China and stay with my cousin. It was there that I first learned what life was like in China—and in South Korea.”
After returning to North Korea, he began planning an escape with his family. On his first attempt, in 2006, he intended to stay with a relative in China while working to secure a route to South Korea. Eventually, he and his family successfully fled North Korea and stayed with his cousin in Dunhua City, China, for three months. However, their freedom was short-lived. The North Korean Ministry of State Security discovered their defection and requested that the Chinese Ministry of Public Security arrest and repatriate them. After six months in detention, Seong-hyeon and his family were sent back to his hometown—homeless and penniless. He had literally become a pauper. Even so, he returned to repairing watches to survive and quietly began planning a second escape. Despite the fear of being caught again, he couldn’t let go of the life he had briefly glimpsed. Determined, he helped his wife escape first. Six months later, he succeeded in fleeing North Korea once more—this time with his daughter and his brother’s family.
These days, one of his greatest joys is driving and traveling on his own.
Affirming Life Through Learning
In his early days of settling in South Korea, Seong-hyeon spent over a year working and learning about disability rights at a welfare center that helped people with disabilities live independently. While many North Korean defectors struggled to find jobs during their initial adjustment period, Seong-hyeon was fortunate—thanks to South Korea’s disability support policies, he was able to secure employment and some stability. But an unexpected challenge emerged. He and his wife—who had arrived in South Korea six months before him—faced a problem no one could have foreseen. Eventually, the two parted ways. His dream of building a happy life with his family in a free country fell apart. “Back then, I drowned myself in alcohol and dark thoughts,” he recalls. “But even then, I couldn’t give up on life. Looking at my daughter beside me, I told myself I had to pull it together.”
Determined to move forward, he enrolled at Seoul Hyundai Occupational Training College to study social welfare. But the twice-weekly commute on public transportation was exhausting. Doubts began to creep in: “What good is a social worker license for someone like me, with a disability? Wouldn’t it be better to quit before it’s too late?” After three years, he finally dropped out. But one day, a staff member from the college called him.
“She told me I had just one year left until graduation. After three years of hard work, she said, I couldn’t quit now. She suggested—though it felt more like a heartfelt plea—that I take a year off and come back later to finish my final year. I found out later that she, too, was a North Korean defector. She was right. Even if I didn’t earn a license, just learning itself was a way of affirming life. So I decided to return and complete the program.”
Now I Want Real Life
The walls of Seong-hyeon’s home are covered with photos of his granddaughter. Throughout the interview, he often pointed to them, unable to hide the joy on his face. “Back in the North, I often wondered if I would even live to see 50. I used to dream of just making it until my daughter got married. But now… my wish has grown—I want to live long enough to see my little granddaughter get married. Living in a country where people with disabilities can lead happy, fulfilling lives, I’ve come to want a long, healthy life of my own. So I decided not to just sit around at home. I started going out to exercise regularly. Last year, a friend took me to a table tennis center, and I’ve been playing ever since—to strengthen both my body and my mind.”
Just a year after picking up a paddle, Seong-hyeon entered a table tennis competition for people with disabilities, hosted by Gyeonggi Province. He won bronze in the team category. These days, his routine is full. He wakes up at eight, eats breakfast, and heads to the table tennis center. He trains until two in the afternoon, then takes a stroll through the neighborhood in his wheelchair. He frequently chats with his daughter and granddaughter over the phone. Now in his final semester of college, he plans to graduate this August. A few years ago, he had his car modified for hand controls. Now, he enjoys taking it out for drives and traveling on his own. With the window rolled down, he parks the car with quiet confidence and a calm smile—the kind only found on someone who has overcome not just physical obstacles, but life itself.
