Seyeo, Zaze
Rows upon rows of compact, identical concrete buildings lined the shabby and narrow street in one of the many slums in Seyeo, the capital city. There was not a patch of green in sight, only never ending dirty buildings dotted with tiny windows. The street was long, bordered by tall buildings, and scarcely any people were in it. Those who were hurried about their lives, paying no attention to their mundane surroundings. In the doorway of one apartment a man slowly made his way down the narrow steps, clutching an ancient and and battered bicycle as though it was a precious artefact.
Watching over the street from a small third floor window a young woman in about her mid twenties stood leaning against the sil, her face lit up by the light coming though the window, the only source of light in the sparse, almost empty room, what little furniture it had was worn and old showing signs of years of wear, the only decoration in the room were two small pictures hanging proudly on the dirty whitewashed wall. Two faces, one of the Eternal President Choi Kang-Dae, the other of his son Choi Hyun-Su, looking much younger in the picture than he now was. She broke free of her reverie as Small footsteps pattered across the bare stone floor as her son, who couldn't have been older than five years, entered the room beaming, clutching a small blue backpack.
“Come on” She smiled, helping her child with the backpack and walking to the door, stopping for a moment waiting for her son to catch up, glancing around as she waited. Catching sight of a small envelope that had been pushed under the door she stooped down, picking it up and turning it over. Roh Min-Young, her name, her letter. She opened the small envelope and withdrew the folded paper. A letter from her husband who had joined the People's Army.
“What that?” She looked down at her child, his eyes fixed on the letter in a mildly accusing way.
“It's a letter from Daddy” The child's face lit up as his mother handed the letter down to him, he grabbed it eagerly squinting at the text tracing his finger carefully along each letter as he shakily read the letter out loud, stumbling over the words.
“He going to shoot up the Esulobakians? Bang! Bang! Make them run away!” with a few more excited cries he ran out the door, closely followed by his mother.
It was only a short walk from their apartment to the school but as they made their way down endless identical streets they gradually became busier, the roads wider, the buildings slowly becoming neater, less run down with the occasional tree or patch of green breaking the grey monotony. A few cars were even seen their colour black or dark blue, each one the same.
“Sing along,” Min said cheerfully as the small school building drew closer “The pathetic Eslovakians kneel on the ground, they beg for mercy...” Dutifully her son echoed the little verse, singing along right up until the gate of his school where he left his mother standing at the gate waving, watching her child enter the school building before turning away and walking onwards to the train station which would take her to the textiles factory where she worked making coats.
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Seyeo underground train network
The train rattled along the Seyeo underground, the largest train network in any Zazean city and one which the people looked upon with pride, the main station in central Seyeo was a large underground structure, decorated to show the supposed wealth of socialism and the great patriotic victories of the people. The trains themselves were large and roomy the insides panelled with wood, at the end of each carriage the two images of the eternal president and his son hung on the wall illuminated by the flickering light of the one working lamp, the same two images seen in every person's house no matter how poor or remote. On one of the green cloth covered wooden seats min sat staring into the middle distance only just hearing the patriotic songs playing from a speaker, punctuated by announcements in a cheerful voice telling the travellers on the trains the achievements of the state and of the glory of the dear leader while also giving snippets of news and motivational speeches.
”These are hard times, we have too little of everything but in our fields, factories and places of work we have a steadfast belief if victory, that is why you go cheerfully to work each morning! Your hearts must be ready for combat, here the battle is fought by you. This morning too you all march on to the battlefield of your destiny!”
The end of the announcement signalled the beginning of a new song just as the train rolled to a stop at the next station the people filtering out onto the platform, decorated with a tapestry depicting the glorious people's revolution and the grand victory over the imperialists.
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Inside the textiles factory
Rows of identical tables filled the large square room, the large windows not casting enough light to fill the whole room, leaving the centre and far end in shadows. On each table were piles of fabric and an old-fashioned sewing machine, each one operated by a woman in identical uniforms of red jackets and a red hairnet. On the front row close to the centre of the room min sat patiently behind her machine, making a few last checks before the floor-man stood up microphone in hand to adress the workers who all stopped their fidgeting to listen.
“The Production process is about to begin, we are now going to check the equipment, Check the machines, check the controls,” A rustle of activity among the workers as they all made sure their machine was working properly “Yesterday I was given the tast we must now perform. The task is two hundred coats, yesterday we made less than one hundred, we must work harder. All comrades must do their best and stick to the task so that se may meet her compulsory minimum” With those words he made his way over to a large back tape player, turning over the small white cassette and pressing the button marked play. Crackling communist patriotic songs rang out through the room where the workers had already started their daily activity...
Sunday, 18 April 2010
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