A Clinical Record Card That Came across Sea

The following happened at midnight one day of a year.

President Kim Il Sung examined heaps of documents and files on his desk, despite his accumulated fatigue from on-site guidance. Then, he opened one of them and read it over and over again for a good while. 

After turning its last page, he slowly got up and went to the window.

An aide tried several times to remind him that his bedtime had already passed, but he failed to do so at the sight of his serious face. 

Unable to hold back, he smartened himself up and approached him. At his desk he happened to glance at a file.

At the moment, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The file was a clinical record card of an official of the General Association of Korean Residents in Japan (Chongryon). 

It was neither an important document about the affairs of the Party and the state nor a blueprint for a gigantic project. The President was deeply worried because of the health of an official on an alien land.

The aide told the President that the night has been far advanced.

The President turned round and said in a hoarse voice that he couldn’t sleep to think of Chongryon officials working in a foreign country. And he called officials concerned to take detailed measures to bring the Chongryon official back to the motherland for medical treatment.

The next day, a relevant message was sent to Chongryon. It was like the parental love to inject vitality into a sick child.