For David, the streets of Seoul are a much longed for safe haven.
To the casual observer, there is nothing out of the ordinary about him.
He is a slight man, softly spoken, dressed in baggy jeans and wide glasses that are fashionable in South Korea.
But his story and what he has been through to get here are utterly remarkable.
He is a North Korean defector, one of the very few to have escaped the DPRK (Democratic Republic of Korea) within the last few years.
“My mother bribed the soldier beforehand,” he tells me as he gestures on a map to where he crossed the border north into China.
“The river was frozen solid. I remember walking maybe 15 minutes to 20 minutes across the ice.
“I remember shivering after crossing the river and climbing over the fence that the Chinese guards had set up.”
For the safety of his relatives that remain in North Korea, we can’t tell you exactly when or exactly how he left. Any specific identifying detail could result in harsh punishments for his loved ones.
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But his stories from inside are astonishing and offer a rare glimpse into what life has been like there since the pandemic struck.
Father disappeared without a trace
His childhood, it seems, was a relatively normal one in DPRK terms – helping from a young age to tend the fields and attending school when he could.
But everything changed shortly after his father suddenly disappeared without a trace.
“It wasn’t until about a year later when he got in touch with us that I realised he had fled to the south,” he explains.
“He contacted my mother via telephone. What we didn’t realise was that the North Korean state political security department had been tapping our landline. As a result, our mother was sent away to the labour camp.”
Initially, he was allowed to visit his mother every three months in detention, and he describes what he saw there as shocking.
“The amount of food provided in these detention centres is pitifully little,” he says.
“Prisoners receive around 20 to 30 kernels of corn each meal, which is obviously not enough for a person to survive on, so I packed a lunch when I went to visit her.
Image: The pandemic has made North Korea all but impenetrable
“My mother’s body had shrunk to half her original size in the three months she had been in detention. My eyes filled with tears the moment I saw her; she was so dishevelled and gaunt that I didn’t recognise her initially.
“They also beat the women in prison. Mother’s eyes were swollen to bits and there were bruises everywhere. I wept when I saw her wounds.”
Mother tortured
David was just a child at this time but he was left to fend for himself and his siblings. He says he left school and tried to make ends meet, working in the fields and logging in the winter, but also stole food to survive.
He took what little he could to his mother.
“My mother said that if the inmates’ families didn’t visit them in prison, they would starve to death from malnutrition,” he explains.
“She said tens of people died every day from malnutrition. She even said that people would die in the middle of meals.
“To dispose of the corpses, she said they folded them at the waist and put them in sacks.
“Afterwards, the corpses were buried near the fences of the prison. Also, because the graves weren’t very deep, the stench of the corpses would come up from the ground in the spring when it became warmer.”
His mother described to him the torture she faced, being made to sit for up to 17 hours and beaten if they moved as much as a finger.
Image: A military parade in Pyongyang in February
She also described how inmates whose families did not have the means to bring extra food or bribe the guards would have a life expectancy of just three to four years.
David’s stories matter because recent testimony from inside North Korea is very rare indeed.
The pandemic has made this already secretive state all but impenetrable.
Policy to shoot anyone trying to cross border
In the 2010s, around 1,000 people a year successfully defected from North Korea – the vast majority crossing the northern border with China before seeking asylum in a third country.
But a combination of the strict closed-border policy implemented by both China and the DPRK, plus a new policy to shoot anyone trying to cross, means that in 2022 that number had plummeted to just 67.
It means that not much is known about how the country fared amid the COVID-19 pandemic, but there is mounting evidence that it further strangled an already dysfunctional economy, bringing fresh waves of shortage and suffering.
“The borders were sealed off out of fear that the pandemic would come from outside North Korea. No one was allowed to go near the border,” says David.
“All the trade routes were effectively closed down. We depended heavily on smuggled goods from China in order to survive.
“I’ve heard from my relative that more people are starving, and prices are rising. They say it has become even more difficult to live.”
Indeed, many think it’s likely people have died due to a lack of food in recent years.
“I’d say [it’s a] chronic economic crisis, not acute. It’s just an ongoing, bad situation economically,” says Chad O’Carroll, the founder of NK News.
What is the situation in North Korea now?
He and his team try to analyse what is going on in North Korea. Since the pandemic, their sources have become fewer and more nervous, but there is a lot of evidence all is not well.
“I definitely think some people would be in serious health problems due to the food shortages,” Mr O’Carroll says. He explains that there is evidence that the crisis is even biting the elites who live in the major cities.
“In Pyongyang and other major urban areas there has not been such significant shortages, but the diversification and nutritional value of the available food has significantly decreased,” he says.
“So if you have a chronic health problem, if you’re old, that could probably really push health conditions in a negative way.
“There’s been very large scale mobilisations of people from all walks of life to get into the farms to get their hands dirty and help.
“We’ve got some sources that say middle, even senior elites in some cases, are having to do their part and helping the nation tackle this food shortage situation.”
It is relatively unlikely that this latest crisis will cause major instability to the ruling Kim regime.
The propaganda machine has been in overdrive blaming the global pandemic and showing pictures of wide-scale deaths and hospitals in crisis elsewhere.
Indeed, the North Korean people are also no strangers to hardship.
Most agree the increased secrecy has been of real value to the DPRK’s security services and will thus likely remain.
But for a nuclear-armed power so increasingly assertive internationally, the reality of life inside is still largely shrouded in mystery.
One of the most high-profile and influential Palestinian politicians has told Sky News that Donald Trump is now “calling the shots” for Israel – and warned it “doesn’t make sense” to have a Western-led government ruling Gaza or the return of a “British mandate” under Sir Tony Blair.
Nasser al-Qudwa, 72, insisted Hamas should be involved in the territory’s future and that a new structure is needed that would allow a single authority to govern both the West Bank and Gaza.
Al-Qudwa is strongly tipped for a return to the front line of politics, either within the existing Palestinian Authority or a new framework for Gaza.
Image: Nasser al-Qudwa. Pic: Reuters
Since leaving his role as foreign minister for the Palestinian Authority in 2006, he has served in a variety of roles, including as a diplomat at the United Nations and as head of the Yasser Arafat Foundation.
Al-Qudwa is the nephew of Arafat, ex-chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organisation, who died in 2004 aged 75.
Image: Yasser Arafat at the White House in 1993. Pic: AP
Trump’s proposal ‘doesn’t make sense’
Al-Qudwa has just been welcomed back into the central committee of Fatah, which runs the Palestinian Authority, the governing body of the West Bank.
Asked how he feels about the prospect of an international body ruling Gaza, including both Mr Trump and Sir Tony, he told Sky News: “The Palestinian people do not deserve to be put under international trusteeship or guardianship.
“And definitely it does not deserve to be put on the British mandate again.
“The whole notion that you are bringing a Western land to build a lot in Gaza after all these sacrifices and all this bloodshed, it doesn’t make sense.”
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0:33
Blair asked about Gaza peace board
Netanyahu ‘not calling the shots’
Al-Qudwa is a strong advocate for a two-state solution and says the only way to stem the anger of Palestinian youths “is to give them a better life”.
Asked if he was confident Israel would observe the ceasefire and move into the second phase of the Trump plan, Al-Qudwa said: “I don’t trust anybody.
“But, to be frank with you, I don’t think it’s the Israeli leader that’s calling the shots.
“I think it’s Mr Donald Trump. And he has promised that repeatedly.
“It’s going to be difficult because the second phase is going to be more difficult. But I do hope that it’s going to happen because we need it to.”
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0:42
Trump asks Israel’s president to pardon Netanyahu
A role for Hamas
Al-Qudwa wants a new unitary governing body for the West Bank and Gaza “that is organically linked… to ensure the territorial integrity and the unity of the Palestinian people”.
He said under his model, Hamas would be invited to be part of the political landscape. It would be a different form of Hamas – a political party rather than an organisation with a military wing.
“It would be a different Hamas,” said al-Qudwa. “What is missing from the debate is the serious, comprehensive positions. I spoke about ending the role of Hamas in Gaza, ending the control of Hamas over Gaza in all its forms, political, administrative, as well as security, which means the official body needs to have control over weapons.
“And then I think it’s very right to transform into a political party and then participate in the Palestinian political life, including elections under Palestinian law enforcement.”
Image: Donald Trump and Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas. Pic: Reuters
Despite being closely linked to a future role in Gaza, al-Qudwa, who was born in Khan Younis in the south of the strip, said you would have to be “crazy” to want to work in the territory now.
He cast doubt over the plan to have elections within a year of the war coming to an end, saying it was impossible to imagine how you could hold such a logistically demanding event in a ruined country like Gaza.
Israel’s war in Gaza, launched following the killing of 1,200 people and capture of 251 more by Hamas during its October 7 attacks, has seen more than 67,000 Gazans killed, according to Palestinian health officials. Its figures don’t differentiate between civilians and combatants but says around half of the victims are women and children.
But al-Qudwa pointedly refused to deny speculation about his future ambitions.
Asked if he would be interested in becoming the next president of the Palestinian Authority, after Mahmoud Abbas, al-Qudwa simply smiled.
“There is no vacancy,” he said.
“That’s not a no,” I suggested. “It’s also not a yes,” he replied.
These were the people being sent back to the West Bank as part of the ceasefire deal – the people exchanged for the hostages.
The welcome they got was chaotic and joyful, just like previous prisoner releases. But there was something different this time – a changed, charged atmosphere and a heavier police presence.
Image: Palestinians in Ramallah greet relatives released from Israeli prisons. Pic: AP
And as the minutes passed by, the sense of joy was also pockmarked by pockets of utter sadness.
At first, it was a mistake. We saw a woman in floods of tears watching as prisoners filed off the two buses, showing victory signs at the waiting crowds. She had come to meet a cousin, but was sure that somehow he had been missed out and left behind. Her tears flowed until, some time later, she found him.
But others were not so fortunate. Overnight, the Israeli authorities had decided to increase the number of prisoners deemed dangerous enough to be denied a return to the West Bank.
Instead, this group, which makes up the majority of the 250 released prisoners, was taken to Gaza and released. Then they get the choice of whether to stay in Gaza or to be deported to another country – possibly Egypt or Turkey.
It is one thing to be taken back to Gaza if you are Gazan. But for the prisoners who come from the West Bank, and who are confronted by the apocalyptic wasteland left behind by war, it is a ticket to deportation, and the knowledge they can never return to their homeland.
You can only get to the West Bank by going through Israeli checkpoints or passport checks. And, clearly, having been deported, you won’t be allowed back in.
And so it is that we see Ghadeer in floods of tears. She is a police officer, in her uniform, and she runs back to the sanctuary of her car, to cry.
Image: A crowd gathers around a bus carrying released Palestinian prisoners. Pic: AP
‘Psychological terror’
Her sister Abeer is also here, and also distraught. Their brother, who they expected to collect, has been taken to Gaza. They did not know until they got here, and realised he had not emerged from the bus.
Her cousin, Yahya, is also here: “We got a call from my cousin last night, and then we got a written warning taped on our door saying that we weren’t allowed to celebrate.
“At midnight, they moved him south, and then to Gaza, all without our knowledge. We came here to see him, and we were shocked that he wasn’t on the bus.
“It is part of their playbook – psychological terror, playing with our emotions, and those of the prisoners.”
To Israel, the release of these prisoners has been a cause of soul-searching, criticised by some as a reckless action that frees terrorists. But for Palestinians, these prisoners are a blend of freedom fighters and political prisoners, some of whom have spent years in detention despite never facing criminal trial.
The prisoners have been told not to celebrate after their release, and these are warnings they take seriously. One man tells us: “I can’t talk, but I am happy.” Another simply says” “I can’t say anything today – come back tomorrow.”
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1:28
Could recognition of Palestine change the West Bank?
‘They are taking our soul’
But another tells us he is “ashamed” that it could have taken the death of so many people in Gaza to secure his release. Emotions run high.
Among the crowds, we see Aman Nafa. Her husband is Nael Barghouti, who has spent 45 years in prison – more than any other Palestinian prisoner – and is now in exile in Turkey. He’s banned from returning, she’s banned from visiting him.
I ask her about the ceasefire, and the chances of a new beginning between Israel and the Palestinians. She bristles.
“They don’t want any peace with us,” she says. “They just want to take the land. It’s like our soul – they are taking our soul. They are torturing us.”
I ask her about her emotions on a day when the focus of the world is on the return of the hostages.
“Double standards,” she says, “but the people around the world – they know what is happening in Palestine. We are not against Jewish people. We are against the Zionists who want to empty our land and take it.”
Acrimony, mistrust, and the fear of tomorrow are endemic among many in the West Bank. A ceasefire in Gaza has soothed some nerves, but, so far at least, it hasn’t addressed the fundamental problems.
For two years, they have gathered in Hostages Square – parents, brothers, sisters, extended family and friends clutching photographs and signs reading “bring them home”.
They have campaigned, protested and prayed for the return of loved ones taken in the 7 October attacks.
But now the mood has shifted.
The chants of frustration have turned into songs of celebration.
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2:12
Sky’s Alex Rossi reports from Hostages Square in Tel Aviv, where thousands gathered to witness the return of all living Israeli captives.
The tears that once fell in despair are now tears of relief.
The square, normally a site of weekly demonstrations, has transformed into a sea of flags.
Image: Crowds gather in Hostages Square in Tel Aviv. Pic: AP
We watched as tens of thousands packed into this area of Tel Aviv to witness a moment many feared might never come – the homecoming of the remaining hostages.
Every few minutes, the massive video screens behind the stage beamed new images – exhausted but smiling hostages embracing their families.
Each clip is met with a roar of applause – the atmosphere is one of sheer elation, it is electric.
When helicopters pass overhead, ferrying freed captives to nearby hospitals, the crowd erupts again and again, looking upwards to the sky in awe at the impossible that’s now been made possible.
Image: Pic: Reuters
The sense of catharsis here is palpable – at last some closure after a nightmare two years and a chance for the healing process of a nation to begin.
But beneath the jubilation, there’s a deep well of sorrow – and reckoning.
The 7 October massacre was the deadliest single-day attack on Israel since the nation’s founding in 1948 – an event that upended the country’s sense of safety and unity.
More than 1,000 were killed that day, and hundreds were taken into Gaza.
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29:41
‘Israel is committed to peace’
For the families who never stopped fighting for their return, this is both an ending and a beginning.
Now that the living hostages are home, attention turns to those who did not survive.
Officials say the process of identifying and repatriating remains will take time – and for some families, closure still remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
But the questions that linger extend far beyond grief.
Image: Thousands of people celebrate the release of the hostages. Pic: AP
In the days and weeks ahead, the Israeli government faces intense scrutiny.
How could the country’s fabled intelligence and defence apparatus fail so catastrophically?
And what accountability, if any, will fall on Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has faced mounting criticism over both the failures leading up to the attack and the protracted efforts to secure the hostages’ release?
This is a nation rejoicing, but also searching for answers.
For now, though, the families in this square are holding tight to one immutable positive – after more than two long years, the living hostages, at least, are finally home.