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Sofiya Kim, who is Korean, was born in 1929 in the city of Iman, Russia. Her family was deported to Kazakhstan in 1937, when she was eight. “… People were just hoping that the train wouldn’t take them to the concentration camps, which would have meant certain death,” she recalled. Later, she and her children moved to Kyrgyzstan. Nariman Jumayev interviewed her in Bishkek on March 15, 2009.

I was born on December 3, 1929 in the village of Iman [Dalnerechensk], near Vladivostok, Russia. I don’t remember my childhood well, I just remember that we were poor. In the morning, I had to get up and help my parents. Our land was small – about 700 square meters – and our family had only a couple of cows. I was the oldest of the four children in the family.

In 1937, when I was eight years old, all the Korean people from our village were deported to Kazakhstan because Stalin considered Koreans enemies of the people – i.e., as potential allies of fascist Germany [1] -- and the enemy must be kept weak.

I cannot remember exactly whether we were warned or not, but I know one thing: we didn’t have time to sell anything. We had to leave everything behind: house, cattle, land. We had no money, no belongings, and we were pushed into a train by force – no one told us where it was going.

The interior of the car was simple. We slept on wooden shelves, each one shared by three or four families. The trip took about two weeks and all that time people were just hoping that the train wouldn’t take them to the concentration camps, which would have meant certain death. During the long ride, we cooked meals from food we had managed to take with us.

Finally, at some station, the train stopped. We found out later that the station was called Ush Tobe and was located in Kazakhstan. We saw some mountains and the steppe. We were not given any shelter. For each family, the government had allocated a small plot of land and materials for building a house. While we were building our house, we lived in a hastily constructed dugout.

It was hard to survive, so everybody helped each other. We were provided with some basic food, like flour and corn. Fortunately, nobody in our family died from hunger. The change in climate was a problem. Many children died because of this but, fortunately, in our family, everybody survived.

There were no medicines, no doctors, and young babies were dying.

Some years later, World War II began. It didn’t have much impact on us: neither Korean men nor women were taken to the front. We didn’t send any food or clothes to the Soviet soldiers.

When I was 18 years old, I decided to leave my parents’ house because I realized that if I stayed in the village, then I would not achieve a lot in my life. I would have to work on the farm and in the fields for my whole life. I did not want that kind of life, so I escaped to the town of Kyzyl-Orda. My parents were against it and did not give me permission to go. My savings, which I had earned by selling rice, were not enough for a ticket, so I had to steal some money from my parents.

So, one day, I decided to change my life completely. I took the train to Kyzyl-Orda. Of course, it was somewhat scary, but at the same time I was full of determination and full of hope for a bright future. I went there because I knew that my mother's brother lived there. I did not know his address. I only knew that he worked as the editor of a local Korean newspaper.

It turned out that it was easy to find him. All the Koreans knew him and people showed me where he lived. My uncle accepted me and I stayed there with him. Later, I found a job in a garment factory. It was the only place where I could get a job without any education or documents. At the beginning, I was an apprentice but, with the time, I became an expert. Sewing turned out to be hard and interesting. Soon, my work began to be noticed, and the management praised me regularly, since I sewed without wasting materials. On holidays, I was regularly given bonuses and I stayed to work in that factory until I retired.

When I was 21, I met my husband. He lived on the same street as me. We had seen each other several times on the street and had gotten acquainted. He was two years older than me and we were considered of suitable age to be married. His parents knew my uncle well and, therefore, were not opposed to our wedding. But, to register our marriage, I needed documents. So I went to the passport office. I filled out the forms and sent a request to Vladivostok. A month later, I got a positive response and was given a passport.

When we were young, there was not much entertainment. Sometimes a cinema came to our city. Also, we went to the local clubs [community centers], where there were theatrical performances and dances. When I was 22, I gave birth to our first child – a daughter. Then came a son and two more daughters. My husband worked very well: he was head of the city irrigation service. We communicated mostly with Koreans, but I studied Russian anyway. On the street and at work everybody spoke Russian.

I grew up without getting an education, but I understood that it could provide opportunities in life, so we sent our children to school and then to college. Our son went to work for the irrigation service like his father; our oldest daughter went to technical college; and our two other daughters went to the medical institute. All of them have done very well in their professions.

Our son married and decided to move to Frunze [Bishkek], the capital of the Kyrgyz SSR [Soviet Socialist Republic]. Then our two younger daughters moved there and began to work in clinics. In 1992, my husband and I moved to Kyrgyzstan, too.

Of course, during the Soviet period there was stability and the young people were provided with work. But, at the same time, people were limited in many ways, including financially. Now, our family can afford to buy more things and eat foods that used to be great delicacies.

I have no complaints – every period was good in its own way, including the times of Khruschev and Brezhnev. Of course it is very unfair that the Koreans were repressed and exiled to a foreign country and deprived of shelter and of their property. But, on the other hand, everything turned out okay and my children and grandchildren are living well.

My husband died very early – at 69 – and I was left to live alone. I did not want to live with my children; I decided to live independently. I moved from the house where I had lived with my husband to a nearby apartment, close to my youngest daughter. I spend the whole day in her house. I eat there but I sleep at my home.

I can’t stand spending much time at home alone, so I visit the activities organized for older people by the Korean Association. Several times a week, elderly Koreans go to the Korean House, where we are provided with tea and bread, sometimes dinner, and gifts on holidays. Musicians play Korean and foreign music. We dance and talk. We are also offered tickets to concerts and performances of Korean artists. We do not pay money for it, only a symbolic membership fee of 25 som per month [60 cents]. Everything is sponsored by Korean businessmen.