The Pinoy Migrant Workers and The Pinoy Corner in Korea

Every Sunday, at Hyehwa-dong in Seoul, enterprising Filipinos haul in Philippine products from their small blue trucks and transform that intersection at the Hye-hwa Rotary at the end of Daehang-ro (university street) that leads to a Catholic church into a Pinoy corner. This is the area where Filipinos working in Seoul and nearby cities gather to shop, to meet up with Pinoy friends, or to enjoy some kare-kare, dinuguan or some sinigang before hearing the Holy Mass in Pilipino at a Catholic church nearby. These Pinoy tindahan (store) and carinderia (eatery) or sari-sari (variety) stores sell newly-cooked Pinoy cuisine and a range of Philippine products from 555 sardines to Mang Tomas, to Ludy’s peanut butter, to Eskinol, to Green Cross rubbing alcohol! Their Filipino menu also includes, aside from those I mentioned, adobo, pancit bihon, lumpia, longganiza, chicharon, and would you believe, balut! And if you think that’s all, they also sell fresh produce like sitaw, ampalaya, mongo beans and tilapia! Aside from the edibles, there are also some ‘audibles’ – cds and vcds from the Philippines. But my favorites are the Filipino desserts! Puto kutsinta, maja blanca, kakanin, turon, suman and of course, leche flan! So, whenever I feel like going for some Pinoy food, I hop on a bus from my home in Hannam-dong (in Yongsan-gu, Seoul) and enjoy the 30-minute journey by daydreaming of the food I would pick when I get off. But I usually start to go hungry even before my bus comes out from the Namsan Tunnel.


According to the Korean immigration bureau, as of August 31, 2009, there were 45,946 Filipinos in South Korea, consisting mostly of non-professionals and industrial workers. A small number represents short-term visitors, trainees, scholars, spouses of Korean nationals, dependents and a few professionals. On top of that number, there were 12,166 on illegal status as of the same date.


The number of these industrial workers has gradually increased over the years since the South Korean government, through a memorandum of understanding signed with the Philippine government on April 23, 2004 , has made available 18,000 Korean jobs to Filipinos annually. Requirements for these jobs include a minimum proficiency of Hangul, the Korean language, and an age limit of 40 years. While the jobs are mainly for construction and factory work, some are not usually with big Korean companies. Some factories are actually small-scale and may not even provide a safe working environment for their workers. Over the years, there have been reports of migrant workers from the Philippines and other Asian countries being hospitalized due to industrial accidents and chemical poisoning.


In South Korea, there are certain jobs which young and able-bodied Koreans stay away from. These jobs are labeled as ‘DDD’ - difficult, dirty and dangerous. The locals’ disdain for ’DDD’ jobs, and of course, the progressive industrialization of the Korean economy cause manpower shortage, forcing the Korean government to open its job market to migrant workers from neighboring Asian countries. These jobs, albeit difficult, dirty or dangerous, follow a minimum pay scale of KRW 904,000 (about US$780) a month. But even with this pay scale, the Filipino migrant workers in Korea still manage to send money home and contribute to the total remittances of the Filipino overseas workers all over the world which are expected to reach a little more than US$ 15 billion for the year 2009 alone. These remittances are accommodated in Seoul at Hyehwa-dong and at Namdaemun in central Seoul, by a Korean bank and a branch of a Philippine bank in Korea, which are open even on Sundays when most migrant workers are off from work.


And while these migrant workers are happy to be in Korea with guaranteed jobs, some of them end up being exploited. Complaints about delayed and unpaid salaries, physical abuse by employers, disregard for the workers’ working environment and wrong job assignments upon jobsite arrival are common. And while the labor department at the Philippine embassy in Korea is helpful in sorting out these labor complaints, there are also centers maintained by the Philippine embassy and Catholic priests which provide support and temporary shelter for those in need, and who seek new employment or who simply want to go home.


It is not easy to work and live away from home, away from family, away from the people you love. These Filipino migrant workers in Korea, just like all other migrant workers in from other countries, only want to earn a living to provide for their families back home.


And as they provide the manpower and skills to keep the economies in which they work running, these migrant workers welcome all the respect and support they can get from their employers and host country. But it is sad that even in this globalized environment, and to think that we are already in the 21st century, the respect for the worker and his rights is still lacking. I guess even with all this advanced technology, man still has a long way to go, or should I say, evolve, with regard to respecting each other and each other’s rights. I leave it at that as I have said my piece.


But going back to Hyehwa-dong and the desserts. Perhaps, at this Pinoy corner in Seoul on any given Sunday, my kababayans create a picture of home, where faces, dialects and food are all familiar, and which helps erase their longing to be in their own hometown (and be with loved ones) back in the Philippines, if only for a day.


Some Pinoys in Korea will come and go; others may stay. But I hope in the years to come, they will still look after each other as most Pinoys everywhere do, and that Hyehwa-dong remain the same Pinoy corner in Seoul, where kababayans feel a little bit of the Philippines every Sunday.


(This piece is an updated version of the article, The Filipino Migrant Workers in Korea, which I wrote in 2005 for AIM’s The Asian Manager magazine.)