Danny Kim, 52, carries a well-built body on his short frame. The name he goes by is neither a Chinese-based name nor a purely Korean one, but he is "Korean born and bred." He has lived under this name for a full half-century. Right now he has a broad smile on his face, but there is an unfortunate story behind the name of this man with a Level 2 intellectual disability.

Fifty years ago, Kim was left to the care of Holt Children's Services without any identification attached to his person. At the time, the baby was given a foreign name with a view toward his overseas adoption. But Danny was never chosen by anyone, and he ended up living his years at a Korean welfare facility with his foreign name.

"It's not the case nowadays, but as recently as the 1950s and 60s, a lot of the children left with Holt were given foreign names like 'Danny,' 'Kay' and 'Archie,'" explained Kim Chun-ho, 31, the social worker from the Holt Ilsan Center who looks after him. "Archie," in this case, is another resident of a similar age to Danny who spent his life at Holt's facilities before passing away last year. There are now few people left with foreign-style names.

When the Hankyoreh met him at around 6 p.m. on Wednesday at an apartment in the Tanhyeon-dong neighborhood of Ilsan, Gyeonggi Province, Danny was preparing rice and running the vacuum after finishing early with his work as an administrative assistant at the center.

Kim Chun-ho said, "If we didn't have Big Brother Danny here, we'd never manage," to which "Big Brother Danny" responded with an embarrassed wave of the hand and a smile.

A total of six people live in Danny's home. Besides Kim Chun-ho, the social worker, the remaining five are all people who, after being left with the facility, suffered the additional wound of never being chosen for adoption. Kim Yo-han, 52, Jo Yeong-guk, 40, and Seo Hui-mok, 36, all have Level 1 intellectual impairments and were left with Holt before the age of 5, but no one ever took them home. Kim Dong-hyeon, 24, who has a Level 3 intellectual impairment, suffered the trauma of being adopted to a Korean family and then given up again during his adolescent years.

Now these five men, all bearing the same scars, live from day to day depending on and encouraging one another. And the family would not be complete without Kim Chun-ho, the social worker who looks after them and tends to their needs.

As 6 p.m. passed, the house's youngest, Dong-hyeon, arrived back after finishing his work at a gas station. He had made a pork stir-fry with ingredients bought by Kim Chun-ho during the day.

"The chores are well divided up here," explained Kim. "Danny gets off work early and does cleaning, Dong-hyeon likes cooking and he makes the food, and the rest of the men here do things like setting the table, washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom."

As an indication of how well the chores were allocated, the house was spotless.

It has been four years since the residents here went to live away from Holt Ilsan Center. The facility supplies separate apartments for disabled individuals capable of self-sufficiency. Nearby is a household whose tenants are five women in a similar situation. All of them go to work at laundries, gas stations and the like, dreaming of the "total independence" that the future may bring for them.

Finally, the dinner table was set, and the family was seated together in the living room. Only Yo-han was absent, as he was preparing to compete as a weightlifter in a nationwide competition for the disabled to be held next week. The youngest, Dong-hyeon, was hard at work carrying over dishes to his older housemates, humming along to the music of a girl group on the television all the while. The others in the house were talking about the miniseries "Baker King Kim Tak-gu." This group of men, who are all part of a "family" despite having different ages and carrying different family names, appeared very happy in their dinner together.

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