hankyoreh

Located on Seoul's northern outskirts, Yangji Village is a typical slum. Once a public cemetery, it was settled from the 1960s by the "refugees" pushed out of downtown Seoul by redevelopment projects. Some 90 percent of the land is the property of the Korea Forest Service, and nine in 10 of the houses there are without permit.

Of the 2,383 residents living there, 348 citizens belonging to 236 households are welfare recipients, and 546 are disabled. There are 26 households run by single mothers.

I rented a room there in November, staying in Yangji Village for a month, and interviewed a young girl living there.

Eun-gyeong (not her real name), 15, began to cry when talking with me. Yet, despite her grief, she maintained her poise, speaking to me in a level voice and a composed expression. It was as if she had grown inured to the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eun-gyeong lives with her father in Yangji Village. Her mother passed away just after Eun-gyeong's first birthday. Eun-gyeong has never seen her father work, as he suffers from back pain and barely gets by from monthly welfare payments of 400,000 won (US$420). Eun-gyeong in turn receives a trickle-down monthly allowance of 80,000 won, leaving her no money to buy even stockings, stationery, textbooks, snacks, or tampons. She rides the public bus to school, but walks alone for 30 minutes on the long path home, trying to save money. She is already worried about next year, when she will have to attend a high school even further away.

Another reason Eun-gyeong normally walks home is because she attends an after school private study academy (hagwon in Korean). She attends for free, thanks to the letter of support she received from a welfare organization. Eun-gyeong received this support because she is one of the more diligent students of Yangji Village. Though her math skills need improvement, she does not dare mention the special math classes offered at the academy to her father, for the enrollment fee is 120,000 won.

She is always hungry during her afterschool academy classes around dinnertime. While her classmates at the academy go buy the snacks they want to tide them over until dinner, she is left to buy whatever she can afford, or skip eating snacks altogether.

She has no close friends in which to confide. There are other students in her classroom in dire situations, but they at least have the income of their mothers or grandmothers upon which to rely. When she feels even those friends cannot grasp her plight, she simply keeps her mouth shut.

Eun-gyeong has seen a lot of generosity. Teachers have quietly given her lunch money or paid for her to attend field trips. She has also learned that sometimes it is necessary to parade her poverty to match the expectations of others. Though this is the behavior required to gain gifts, she hates to act in such a manner, so she has decided against doing this anymore. She does not want her classmates to see her in such a light. If her friends invite her to see a movie, she demurs, explaining that the film will be boring, and similarly refuses to accompany her friends.

Eun-gyeong likes to write. She even wrote a novel as a sixth grader. Her dream was to become a novelist, but such a line of work is not known for being lucrative, so she gave it up. She also wanted to become an archaeologist, but gave up on that for the same reason. She does not know what to study anymore. She decided to go to a humanities geared high school, but she still has moments of doubt. Many of the children in her neighborhood go to industrial technology-geared high schools. She has to compete with other hard-working children to enter college, giving her yet another thing to worry about. After all, even the monthly welfare payments of 400,000 won (US$420) her father is given will end upon her graduation from high school, as she will legally become a 'head of household.' Having lived at her aunt's house for a long time, she does not feel much of a bond with her father. Yet she still feels pity for him.

Eun-gyeong's sole wish is "to live without worry." Preoccupied by her thoughts and fears, she finds these days that long distances melt away beneath her feet as she walks and contemplates. Yet, some time ago, she realized that her woes would not be solved, no matter how much she dwelled upon them. Thus, she decided in general just to think less. Of course, she wants to live like other children, who swipe their transit cards and buy clothes without a second thought. She is jealous of those ordinary children, who can rely on their parents.

It was about this time that tears started to trickle down Eun-gyeong's cheeks, not when recounting her mother's passing, but in acknowledging the difficulties that lay before her of finding a source of support in her hard, young life.

I met Eun-gyeong in a study room on the 29th of last month. I would like to express my gratitude to her for granting me such a taxing interview.

Please direct questions or comments to [englishhani@hani.co.kr]