Park Jung-oh was already standing on the seafront throwing plastic bottles filled with rice bound for North Korea into the water.
Although Park has been sending these bottles for almost a decade, she hasn't been able to do so openly since June 2020 - when South Korea banned sending "anti-North Korea" material across the border.
"We sent the bottles because people in my country are starving. Is that so bad?" asks the 56-year-old.
Although last September the Constitutional Court overturned the ban, Park didn't want to draw attention to it immediately. She waited for months and finally chose April 9th to throw the plastic bottles out again in broad daylight.
The ebb and flow of the sea was expected to be stronger, so the bottles could reach the north more quickly. "That meant a new beginning for my activism," she explained.
Park left North Korea 26 years ago. Her father was a spy for the country who decided to flee to the South, and the whole family was forced to go too. The North Korean regime launched a smear campaign and promised to persecute each and every one of them.
When he lived in the North, Park often saw the bodies of people who had died of starvation in the streets. He was stunned when he heard from a missionary, who often traveled to China, that soldiers with guns would descend on the North Korean province of Hwanghae during the harvest season and take all the grain. I had never heard of anyone dying of starvation in that rich rice-producing area.
Activism in bottles
In 2015, Park founded the organization Keun Saem with his wife to send food in plastic bottles to Hwanghae province. They consulted local navigators and the Korean Institute of Ocean Science and Technology about high tide times. This is how they learned that, on days when the water flows faster, the bottles reach North Korea in around four hours.
As well as a kilo of rice, the two-liter plastic bottle also contains a USB with K-pop songs, South Korean series adapted for the North, videos comparing the two Koreas and a digital copy of the Bible.
As electronic devices such as computers and cell phones have become commonplace, Park believes that access to such content shouldn't be difficult for North Koreans.
"Many people think that there is no electricity in North Korea, but I've heard that there are a lot of solar panels coming in through China, which can be used to charge batteries, especially during the summer."
Sometimes a one-dollar bill is added to each bottle so that recipients can exchange it for Chinese or North Korean currency. Last year, the official exchange rate was 160 North Korean won to one US dollar. It is known that the rate on the black market is more than 50 times higher.
During the pandemic, Park and his wife put painkillers and masks inside the bottles, much-needed supplies in a North Korea isolated from the rest of the world. But because of the ban that came into force in December 2020, the couple could only send the bottles in secret.
Months earlier, Kim Yo-jong, sister of North Korea's leader Kim Jong-un, issued a warning to anyone sending leaflets against North Korea, accusing them of violating inter-Korean agreements.
Days later, the North dismantled the symbolic joint office in Kaesong, a town close to the demilitarized zone. The law proved to be very controversial.
Critics called it the "Kim Yo-jong decree", accusing the government of former South Korean president Moon Jae-in of being too eager to appease the North.
The authorities defended it, saying they were trying to protect the security of border areas and stabilize inter-Korean relations. "They treated us like criminals," Park recalls.
Difficult, but not impossible
Although the ban has been lifted, it is more difficult to send the bottles today. Churches and human rights organizations, which used to make donations, have stopped doing so. Deserters who also want to send the bottles back home contribute 200,000 South Korean Won (about 147 dollars) each time.
Park's relationship with local residents was also damaged after the 2020 law, as some believe Park's work threatens their safety.
In other times, Park's activism didn't arouse so much suspicion. Even the leader of a nearby village helped out, giving guidance on the best places to throw the bottles.
This time, Park had to throw the bottles under the watchful eye of a dozen police officers, marines and soldiers. The agents were willing to act as mediators, but they also repeatedly asked if there was anything confidential or sensitive inside the bottles
Park never thought of giving up.
"I was once told that a North Korean woman suspected the rice inside the bottle, cooked it and gave it to a dog. As the dog was fine, she tasted the rice and found the quality to be very good. So she sold it at a high price and bought a lot of cheap products like corn," says Park.
A family of nine who defected from the North in early 2023 said they had received the bottles and sent Park a message of thanks through another defector.
Four years ago, another defector also thanked Park for saving her life with the bottles. Park doesn't know any of the recipients personally, as she just wanted to help people - she's not looking for praise.
"North Koreans are isolated from the outside world. They obey the state without question, fearing the consequences of dissent," he said. "This is the least I can do to help them."
