[Friends of Korea] Returning to Korea to serve in Peace Corps

A couple of students from Sam Chun Po Boys' Middle School in 1973 / Courtesy of Bruce Kim

By Bruce Kim

My grandmother immigrated to Hawaii at the turn of the 20th century. She and her family signed up to work on a Hawaiian plantation and suffered many hardships. Like others in the Korean diaspora, she focused on surviving and keeping her family intact. I am sure she despaired over the plight of her homeland and the family she left behind.

Children were born. She kept her family together and adapted to her new island home. As the years passed, returning to her homeland seemed more and more remote. She left the plantation and moved to the city of Honolulu, where she established a new life. Through hard work and her own indomitable spirit, she raised her children and even prospered.

My father grew up in Honolulu during the Depression and attended college in Hawaii. After graduation, he worked at whatever jobs he could find. World War II exploded with the attack on Pearl Harbor. He volunteered to fight and became a navigator-bombardier with the U.S. Army Air Force in Europe. He flew 60 combat missions mostly in the campaign to liberate Italy.

While I was growing up in Honolulu, my father spent time with a Korean association that his father had been active in. Before World War II, there were many Korean associations in Hawaii pursuing Korean independence from Japan. The deep affinity of their aging members and their adult children for these associations was not well appreciated by the children of my generation. Why and how could this mean so much to them after so many decades and so far from the land they left behind?

After learning in the fall of 1972 that I was officially a member of the Peace Corps' K-25 group, I was apprehensive. How would I adapt to life in a country I knew only through artifacts around the house and the Korean food I enjoyed at home and at my grandmother's?

I landed at Kimpo Airport in late November that year. On the ride into Seoul with fellow volunteers, we stared apprehensively at the number of soldiers and armored vehicles encountered along the way. Martial law? The realization that we were in for some drastic changes was clearly brought home shortly thereafter when we visited Panmunjom and faced North Korea. What had we gotten ourselves into?

Sam Chun Po Boys' Middle and High School in 1973 / Courtesy of Bruce Kim

We trained in Chuncheon, Gangwon Province, to be middle school English teachers. It was a long and winding bus ride from Seoul to the training site in the dead of winter. We learned to make a beeline to the yeontan stoves and barbecues whenever we ventured out from our training site. We grew to love those warm ondol floors. The pastries in the bakery looked French and were filled with something that looked like chocolate, but the bean paste inside was not French. On the other hand, the famous Chuncheon chicken rib barbecue, dakgalbi, was exquisite. We enjoyed new experiences, such as ice skating on a frozen river and going on a ski trip in the mountains.

In the streets and alleys of Chuncheon, we learned the ins and outs of Korean spirits. Makgeolli and soju became the drinks of choice and are still the subject of debate about the old makgeolli versus the new makgeolli and they don't make soju like they used to.

Following training I was dispatched to Samcheonpo in South Gyeongsang Province to teach English at Sam Chun Po Boys' Middle School. After a long and arduous trip, we disembarked literally at the end of the road, where Samcheonpo was found on the southern coast. Had someone made a mistake? Was this a practical joke?

Looking toward Samcheonpo from the edge of the breakwater in 1973 / Courtesy of Bruce Kim

Samcheonpo at the time was a rough-around-the-edges fishing port. The downtown area, split by a single main road going in and out, was rural and surrounded by agricultural fields primarily growing rice. The town's location was spectacularly beautiful ― sitting on an inland sea surrounded by islands. The boys' middle school was located outside of town, next to the boys' high school. I've since returned for several visits in the 1980s and 2010s, finding the town has been transformed into a bustling city. I had trouble visualizing the "old" Samcheonpo on my last visit because of the place's truly enormous makeover. Most of the familiar physical places ― schools, buildings, my old rooming house ― are long gone. I was leery of wandering through the town without being able to reference the missing landmarks.

Planting rice in Samcheonpo in 1973 / Courtesy of Bruce Kim

They say the Peace Corps is the "toughest job you'll ever love." Over the next two years I came to appreciate exactly what they meant. I went from feeling abandoned, lonely and unsupported to being surrounded by so many fellow citizens of the world. It was amazing.

My students were so smart. They endured hardships no American middle schooler can imagine. They studied in unheated and un-air-conditioned classrooms sitting at rough wooden desks from daybreak to darkness. On a rare trip to Seoul, I recall a Korean businessperson telling me that Koreans could not enunciate "r" or "l" because of their vocal cords. I quickly responded that there were students in my classes who spoke English without any difficulty. I later learned that more than one of them ended up at Seoul National University. I freely admit that these accomplishments were the product of their own perseverance and aptitude and not to any skills I may have had. Every Peace Corps Middle School Volunteer who served in Korea can proudly relate remarkable stories of their students' achievements without prompting.

My difficulties dissipated over time through the support of my K-25 mates and my newfound friends in Korea. Some K-25 members lived closer to me along the southern coast, like Becky in Busan and Todd in Chungmu (now called Tongyeong), a short trip away by inter-coastal ferry. A few of them have sadly passed on. I hope they know wherever they may be that their friendship meant the world to me. It still does. K-25 was a remarkable group. I am privileged to have had them in my life.

A class at Sam Chun Po Boys' Middle School in 1973 / Courtesy of Bruce Kim

I can't leave out the other Peace Corps Volunteers I met during my time in Korea. I will always treasure our friendship and the wonderful camaraderie we all shared. And the kindness and friendship shown to me by Koreans I met in my town, at my school (where I was introduced to the sport of ssireum), as well as in other towns and cities such as Busan will never be forgotten. I miss them all these years later.

Among the important lessons learned from my service in Korea are that people are more alike than different and you need to listen to reach true understanding. I was so fortunate to have lived in the land where the first Korean immigrants like my grandmother came from. I see why they reveled in the opportunity to meet and speak the language of their homeland and enjoy each other's company. For that I am forever grateful to have served in Korea. I now have a similar longing for the Korea I came to know and love. It pulls at my heart and draws my thoughts and emotions all these years later. I once read an article by a former Peace Corps Volunteer, titled "An Outward Voyage and an Inward Journey." I can't think of a better description of what the Peace Corps meant to me.

Bruce Kim is a lawyer in Honolulu, Hawaii. He served as a Middle School English Peace Corps volunteer from 1972 to 1974 at Sam Chun Po Boys' Middle School in Samcheonpo, South Gyeongsang Province.