N Korea's information 'black hole'

By Louisa Lim
BBC correspondent in Dandong

A Polish train spotter proves a disappointing source for journalists

The Chinese town of Dandong is perched on the North Korean border, separated from the Hermit Kingdom by just a narrow strip of river.

It is poised between two of the most secretive countries on Earth, both of them well-versed in exercising control over the media.

It is the closest the outside world can get to the town where the blast happened, Ryongchon, just 20km over the border.

But, for the international press pack sent here to cover the aftermath of the blast, Dandong is little more than an information black hole.

Hospital visits

Given the initial estimates that thousands had been killed or injured, and the pitiable state of North Korea's healthcare system, we had initially thought that some of the wounded might be transferred to hospitals in Dandong.

So on arrival in the city, one of our first moves was to check the local hospitals.

"We've no information on this" was the official line.

Being stationed in Beijing tends to give one a healthy distrust of officialdom, so at first there was some scepticism about whether hospitals were telling the truth.

Periodically, a rumour would circulate that casualties had indeed arrived at one hospital or another.

But trips to check it out would yield little, though the fact that guards were turning press away from the military hospital gave rise to more rumours that the injured were indeed being treated there in secret.

Local silence

Attempts to glean information from locals also proved difficult.

"That's all official stuff, it's nothing to do with us ordinary people," was the stock reply.

Some people had seen news of the explosion on television, but the local press has not exactly been busting a gut to get the story out.

The blast might have been making headlines around the world, but for one local paper the top story was: "Dandong city hits its education targets for the year."

In the whole paper, there was not a single story on the tragedy just 20km away.

Journalists frustrated

People in Dandong are just five minutes away from North Korea, and hear its propaganda blasting out every day.

But the cultural differences and the growing political distance make the gulf dividing the two people ever deeper.

"For them, North Korea is a foreign country and the explosion might as well have happened in Spain or Moscow," said my producer Bessie, giving voice to our growing frustration.

Hard facts were proving elusive. Several locals born in North Korea told me they knew people who had lost homes in the blast, but those people had disappeared, probably back over the border to check out the scale of the damage.

Train spotter source

The railway station and border post were the other well-worn stops on the journalistic checklist of those marooned in Dandong.

Chinese appear unconcerned by the disaster just over the border

But finding people who had come through Ryongchon and were willing to talk about it to the international media was proving nigh on impossible.

North Koreans have grown up under a system policed by fear and suspicion, so are unlikely to tell sensitive information about a national disaster to complete outsiders

Nonetheless, one of the most eagerly awaited events was the arrival of the train from Pyongyang, which would have passed through the blast site.

As it pulled into the station, cameras clicked and crowds of foreign reporters clustered around the doors waiting for passengers to disembark.

No-one got off the train.

The sole source of information was a Polish train spotter who stuck his head out of the window.

The gaggle clustered around him expectantly, pens poised and microphones cocked, waiting for an eyewitness description of the devastation.

"This is not a very very catastrophe," said the President of the Rail Transport Enthusiasts Society in stilted English.

He went on to say he had only seen a few small houses that had collapsed, then conceded perhaps the place he was talking about had not even been Ryongchon at all.

Two days in Dandong has been a sobering reminder that access to information, in some places, is still a privilege, not a right.

In most countries in the world, we take it for granted that if a disaster happens, we will find out and hold whoever responsible to account, and we also take it for granted that we will respond with compassion.