INTERVIEW Counting down to adulthood - or living stateless
Attending a Korean high school, Syrian teenager Murad is despondent his decade-long life as a Seoulite doesn't guarantee residency
By Ko Dong-hwan
A new semester for third-graders at Hwigyeong Technical High School began in early March. But for Murad, a Syrian, 19, who moved to Seoul in 2009, the passage of time seems slow and weighty as he fears what will happen to him after next year's graduation.
When his “general trainee” D-4 visa's one-year validity expires at the end of the year, he needs an alternative document to keep living here legally as a foreign resident. He can extend the visa by pursuing postsecondary education or applying for a working visa. Already at the age considered an adult in Korea, he can no longer rely on his father to be granted the status of a child of a migrant worker.
The distraught youth had dreamed of becoming an airplane pilot and going to the Korea Aerospace University in Goyang city. But he suffers from asthma, back pain and other problems and recently failed the school's health evaluation. This led him to abandon his dream. It's still hard to digest for Murad, whose Facebook page and Korean online chatting app Kakao Talk's profile are full of airplane and pilot seat images.
“I had no other dreams in mind. I don't know what to do now,” Murad, using his alias, told The Korea Times.
Not being able to find an alternative career path is not his immediate problem. Murad is considering not going to college, meaning he won't be able to apply for a student visa. Prepping for work visas by getting a job is not in his interest either, as his father and older brother run an auto parts trading shop in Seoul's Dapsimni area that keeps him busy making deliveries to clients nationwide and communicating with local Koreans using his fluent Korean.
Murad has little choice left.
“If I don't go to a college or get employed in a local firm, I must apply for refugee status,” Murad said. “I am despondent. I have lived here for over 10 years, and now sign up for asylum? It doesn't make sense. I helped with my father's shop during the school's winter and spring vacations (December 2018-February 2019) when I had to prepare for this year's upcoming college entrance exam.”
Hwigyeong Technical High School in Hwigyeong-dong, Dongdaemun-gu, Seoul. Courtesy of Hwigyeong Technical High School
The Ministry of Justice told The Korea Times that regardless of residence period, people without a visa are subject to deportation and, if conditions are met in accordance with the country's Refugee Act, a refugee application must be followed.
Murad, whose under-19 status has been the “accompany spouse or child” F-3 visa thanks to his father's “international trade and management” D-9 visa, struggled to acquire the D-4 in February that now enables him to attend the school. He studied for months to earn a ministry-run Korea Immigration and Integration Program (KIIP) certificate, only to be told later by the Seoul immigration authority that an insufficient bank balance disqualified him from getting the visa. He didn't fully understand the complex visa requirement manual available on state immigration service website HiKorea and thought the authority was being unfair.
“It took me 170 hours to complete all five levels of the KIIP last year, learning from the country's history to geography, law, economy and sociology,” Murad said. KIIP is a point-based education program that foreign residents are required to take when changing visas or acquiring permanent residency.
“Then I prepared all the required documents for the D-4, from my bank balance certificate and tax invoices from father's shop to my school transcript. The efforts, however, crumbled when the authority told me I didn't have 6 million won ($5,300) in my bank account.”
In addition to the mix-up, he was afraid his patience with an impolite male officer he encountered every time he visited Seoul Immigration Office's Sejongno Branch might break and lead to a fight. The officer, Murad said, was rude, yelling at him to go back to Syria. Engaging him, to Murad, was “scary, trembling, and enraging.”
“I wondered if he would act the same way if he lived the life of a migrant like me,” said Murad, who has found the emotional tension of being part of an ethnic minority the most difficult to deal with.
The Janganpyeong used car market in Seongdong-gu, Seoul. Murad's father works in the market, exporting auto parts overseas or trading them with foreign clients in Korea. Yonhap
Friend's help
Murad's financial situation was helped by Cheung Youn-joo, director of the Seoul humanitarian agency Hope Village Community Center, based in Dongdaemun district's Jangan-dong area. Having lived 27 years in Tunisia and Egypt, the Christian missionary has been helping Arabic migrants, refugees and asylum seekers in Korea, including Syrians who formed large communities in the Dapsimni area and Incheon.
Murad met Cheung in 2016 when he was a student at the Jeonnong Middle School in Dongdaemun and volunteered as an interpreter between Korean doctors and Arabic patients for Cheung's medical outreach work. She went with him to the Seoul Immigration Office to find out what had happened.
“The authority required Murad to keep 6 million in the account but his father, unaware of it, withdrew the money the day after depositing it to run his business,” Cheung told The Korea Times. “I met the father to explain the situation and persuaded him to re-deposit the money.”
She knew that Syrians, especially those who left the country following the 2011 civil war that saw millions flee for their lives, mostly had no concept of bank saving but instead used cash or existing goods. She told the male officer about it who had found the transaction suspicious but later issued Murad a D-4.
Hope Village Community Center director Cheung Yeun-joo, inbox, joined a walkathon at Sangam World Cup Park in Mapo-gu, Seoul, Oct. 28, 2018. The event, hosted by Seoul Immigration Office and sponsored by Ministry of Justice, was joined by foreigners and Koreans. Courtesy of Hope Village Community Center
“All foreign residents wishing to reside here must prove that their financial status can sustain their lives,” the justice ministry said. “Except for visas for diplomats (A-1), government officials (A-2), treaties (A-3) and refugees (G-1), applicants must report their assets in Korea, capital invested, wages earned and employment certificates.”
Murad, categorized under the D-4-3 visa ― those attending a high school or below-level educational institution ― is required to have at least 6 million won in the bank every year.
Since the pair's first meeting, Cheung has been fond of Murad's courteous manner, witty personality and natural adherence to addressing his seniors with respect. Accustomed to tinkering with mechanics, he often set up computers and other electronics at Hope Village and took younger Syrian children studying at the office for a drive to the Children's Grand Park in Seoul or on other outings. Doctors and other volunteer workers at the center all found him agreeable.
“I owe him a lot,” said Cheung, in her 50s. “I'm thankful for him that he often contacted me to see if I needed any help even before I called him. People at the center have high expectations for his future.”
Hwigyeong Technical High School principal Choo Kyo-soo, above, has been a big supporter of Murad in his recent struggle to get a D-4 visa. Courtesy of Hwigyeong Technical High School
Adaptation
In a final KIIP test last year ― sat by some 10 foreigners who completed the program's five preliminary levels ― Murad scored 76 out of 100, the only person who passed. The achievement earned him extra government-certified points necessary to later apply for permanent residency, a condition for naturalization, which he wants to take.
“I was so happy for him, maybe happier than his parents,” Cheung said. She doubts his family members appreciate the value of his outstanding Korean skills.
Murad's father, who has been working in Seoul since 1999, asked Murad and his mother in Syria to join him in Korea. Murad moved for good in 2009 and started his new life as an elementary school student in Dongdaemun.
Murad has a twin sister who married a Syrian man. They have humanitarian status and live in Gwangju, South Jeolla Province. In February, because the couple isn't fluent in Korean, Murad drove 300 kilometers south to help them apply for state health insurance and have their newborn child vaccinated.
Murad has been volunteering as an interpreter, helping Arabic people in various public venues, including hospitals and Cheung's humanitarian office.
At Hwigyeong, Murad has already surpassed his Korean peers in academic achievements. He won the grand prize in the national scientific book review contest, won an English speech contest, was elected a class president in second grade, won a scholarship from the Korea Die Mold Industry Cooperative, and posed for the cover of a leaflet for the Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education promoting multicultural families. With a knack for mechanics, he serves in the school's public address (PA) system operating club.
A certificate and award for Murad after winning the grand prize in a national scientific book review contest in June 2018. The competition was hosted by semiconductor developer Barun Electronics and Korea Standards Association Media and sponsored by regional news portal Newsro. Provided by Murad
School principal Choo Kyo-soo says he knows Murad well and often counseled him. The educator witnessed how much Murad struggled to get a D-4.
“One can apply for a D-4 only when an educational institute head each year certifies the applicant's transcript,” Choo told The Korea Times. “It must have been hard for Murad who, already burdened with school work, had to visit the immigration office to extend his status all by himself.
“He told me he wants permanent residency in Korea and wants to support Korea and Syria. I told him he must go to university and learn to take the role of boosting the bilateral tie.”
Murad has not been immune to school bullies who taunted him over his ethnicity. It peaked at Jeonnong.
“They called me IS and asked if I came to Korea to bomb places,” Murad said, referring to the abbreviation for the jihadist militant group Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.
“Whenever they cracked such jokes, I thought whether they would like to be treated that way. Like I was being bullied, Koreans had suffered the same humiliation in history, including the Korean War. I ignored those bullies because I was older than them. Still, the youths these days have got to wake up.”