[INTERVIEW] Artist documents lives of African diaspora as new faces in Korea's US camptowns

Che Onejoon's "Nelson and Emma from Nigeria and Their Children Born in Korea, Dongducheon" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

'Current landscape of Dongducheon, Paju and Songtan shows future of multicultural Korea'

By Park Han-sol

Artist Che Onejoon entered a compact photography studio he rented in Dongducheon, Gyeonggi Province, on a crisp afternoon in 2021 to prepare for his shoot of the day.

Located just over 16 kilometers south of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that has divided North and South Korea for seven decades, the studio, like any other neighboring storefront, witnessed throngs of American soldiers stationed at the nearby military bases as its customers in the late 20th century.

That was before the vast majority of troops in the region began their relocation to Camp Humphreys, America's largest overseas military base, in the southwestern city of Pyeongtaek.

The vaguely exotic, hand-painted background illustrations, as well as the flags of South Korea and the United States shoved into one corner, offer a glimpse into those bygone days.

But Che's photographic subjects for the day weren't the remaining soldiers serving in still-standing Camp Casey. They were a Nigerian family of five, one of many belonging to the African diaspora who have evidently become the new faces in town.

Artist Che Onejoon / Courtesy of Hakgojae Gallery

"The neighborhoods that once teemed with the U.S. Forces Korea service members and their families, like Dongducheon and Paju, became largely vacant following the 2004 Yongsan Relocation Plan," the artist told The Korea Times in a recent interview. The plan set the goal of consolidating military bases across the Korean Peninsula into two hubs: Pyeongtaek and Daegu.

"These former camptowns, now overflowing with affordable, uninhabited houses, began to attract African migrant workers en masse, who first came to and settled in the multicultural area of Seoul's Itaewon in the early 1990s," he said.

In addition to cheap rent, the areas had several features that suit the needs of an influx of new migrant laborers ― including a nearby manufacturing hub with jobs available for those working in the blue-collar sector and entertainment catering to people of foreign nationality.

As a result, what were dubbed "Africa Towns" started to emerge in the early 2000s ― notably a Nigerian Igbo town in Dongducheon, a Ghanaian town in Paju and to a certain extent, a Cameroonian town in Songtan.

But despite their steadily growing presence, these communities have rarely been spotlighted in Korea's mainstream cultural discourse, except for a handful of second-generation African-Korean media personalities like Jonathan Thona and model Han Hyun-min.

It is these underrepresented lives of the African diaspora, who found their second home in Korea, that Che has been documenting through photographic portraits and videos since 2020 for his "Capital Black" series.

The term coined by the artist himself, "Capital Black" was also the title of his recently wrapped up solo exhibition at Hakgojae Gallery in central Seoul.

A scene from Che Onejoon's three-channel video installation, "Mansudae Master Class" (2013-ongoing) / Courtesy of the artist

Dissecting Africa-Asia relations

The 43-year-old started the first decade of his career by documenting the visible remnants of the Cold War across the Korean Peninsula: underground bunkers constructed in Seoul in the immediate aftermath of the 1950-53 Korean War and the vacated U.S. military bases.

It was 2010 when further evidence attesting to tumultuous inter-Korean relations caught his eye ― but this time, on the other side of the world in Dakar, Senegal.

Located some 13,000 kilometers away from Seoul is an imposing 52-meter-tall bronze statue named "The African Renaissance Monument" built by none other than North Korea.

"The North's construction company, Mansudae Overseas Projects, has erected numerous statues, monuments and government buildings in nearly 20 African nations since its establishment in 1974," he said. "Many of those constructed prior to the country's great famine of the mid-1990s were done for free."

Behind this seemingly puzzling project lies the hidden history of the diplomatic war between South and North Korea. Following the armistice agreement signed in 1953, issues related to the Military Demarcation Line (MDL) and the stationing of the U.S. Forces in South Korea were raised in the United Nations.

When a series of African countries that gained independence from European colonial powers were newly admitted to the U.N. in the 1960s, the North aimed to win their support for its goal of unifying the Korean Peninsula through offering free construction projects.

Che began tracing these intriguing yet largely untold relations between Korea and Africa through the "Mansudae Master Class" project. His trip to eight sub-Saharan African nations, including Senegal, Ethiopia and Zimbabwe, taken between 2013 and 2015 birthed an extensive series of photography, video installations and an archive collection.

His artistic focus continued in "My Utopia" in 2018, where he followed the unusual life of Monica Macias. Born in Equatorial Guinea as the daughter of Francisco Macias Nguema, the African country's first president-turned-dictator, she was sent to North Korea at the age of six and spent the next 15 years under the guardianship of Kim Il-sung before leaving Pyongyang in 1994.

"It was after spending years concentrating on the unique diplomatic, political and cultural relations formed between Africa and East Asia that my eyes eventually turned back to the Korean Peninsula ― this time, to the African diaspora who had settled here," he said.

Che Onejoon's "Eunhee and Wilfred from Nigeria and Their Children Born in Korea, Seoul" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

As a Korean with no particular connection, it wasn't easy to find a point of contact to reach out to the community at the start of 2020, the artist recalled.

"There was just no information available whatsoever. I did find a few African churches here and there, but they had to be closed and were therefore unreachable at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic," he added.

It was by pure chance that he came across a short article on the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), a nationalist separatist group in Nigeria, which established its Korean branch in Dongducheon. After several phone calls, a meeting was set up. The IPOB members were enthusiastic to inform the new Korean guest of their cause fueled by the turbulent political history of Nigeria; Che needed an entry point to communicate with members of the African community. It was a win-win situation.

"As I continued to visit the group's members in Dongducheon, I began to notice the sheer number of Africans residing in the neighborhood," he said. "I had to come up with a catchy idea so these people would be willing to sit down and have a conversation with me."

The artist found the answer by offering to take framed portraits for all families and singles, free of charge. The plan saw immediate success. "Some days on the weekend, I would find myself scheduling four shoots a day, back to back," he noted.

After building rapport with the African residents in Dongducheon ― 90 percent of whom were the Igbo people, a predominantly Christian ethnic group making up 18 percent of Nigeria's population ― he eventually extended his offer to the Ghanaian town in Paju through Elim Church. The religious institution, founded in 2004, has been an important spiritual center for African migrant workers, inviting pastors from Nigeria and Ghana for sermons. In both countries, Christians account for roughly a half or more of the total population.

Che Onejoon's "Kumi Frank from Ghana, Paju" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

Che Onejoon's "Parties, Dongducheon" (2022) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

Within months, Che became a regular face in these neighborhoods, visiting African residents' homes, churches and monthly union meetings to photograph their everyday lives.

That's when he began to take notice of their layered identities, especially those of the first generation ― transnational blue-collar workers, who seek to maintain the traditional practices of their home countries, but at the same time, experience cultural and linguistic isolation in Korea.

In fact, the harsh working conditions here are one of the reasons that push these laborers to stay within the boundaries of their own culture, the artist explained. Working in rotating shifts, many of them have just enough time on weekends to participate in communal cultural events to blow off steam.

"It becomes difficult for them to experience Korean culture amid this living environment. They have no particular reason to know about it, but are not easily given opportunities to come into contact with it either," he said.

"For example, many of those who appeared in the portraits that were displayed at Hakgojae Gallery couldn't come to see their own photos because their work schedule didn't match the gallery's opening hours."

Che Onejoon's "Igwe (King) Charles and Hope from Nigeria and Their Children Born in Korea, Dongducheon" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

"Igwe (King) Charles and Hope from Nigeria and Their Children Born in Korea, Dongducheon" (2021), filmed in the family's living room, offers an intriguing glimpse into their distinct identities.

All family members are donning traditional costumes or accessories, with Charles standing out the most with his signature crown and fan as an "Igwe," the holder of a royal title who rules autonomous communities in Southeastern Nigeria's Igboland.

"There are three figures honored as Igwes in Dongducheon. They would all make appearances at monthly union meetings with crowns on their heads," the artist noted, highlighting the emphasis they put on honorific, albeit purely symbolic, titles. "This was also one of the first households where I witnessed the generation gap in person."

As evidenced by the portraits decoratively hung in the background, which were shot in the typical style of graduation photos here, the three children were all born and raised in Korea.

"I would hear kids speaking in Korean with each other about their father or mother, who would have no idea what is going on. They would only switch to English when they are directly conversing with their parents," he added.

And the type of food put on the table was another cause of inter-generational rift. "The first-generation immigrant workers would try to only cook traditional food of their home countries, because they would often have Korean meals at their workplace. But many of the children I met seemed to prefer Korean to African food."

Che Onejoon's "Reagan from Ghana with Sunmi and Their Son Born in Korea, Seoul" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery

Some of his family portraits also capture the lives of Korean-African couples. "Reagan from Ghana with Sunmi and Their Son Born in Korea, Seoul" portrays Sunmi who met Reagan when he first joined Korea's professional football club, Daegu FC, and later had to leave after being injured. The couple used to share their lives via YouTube vlogs to address prejudices held against multiracial families in Korea.

Community-based projects

To many of the African migrant community members, Che has become more than a photographer who's willing to take family portraits pro bono.

"Every day starts or ends with phone calls from someone who needs my help," he said.

Sometimes, it's as simple as figuring out the postal code of their house. At other times, it gets trickier to say the least. "Some would contact me after their visa application gets rejected by the Ministry of Justice," Che noted.

"The government agency provides the whole interview transcript along with the stated reason for rejection. The problem is, even though the interview would be conducted in English in the presence of a translator, the transcript of 20 pages or more would be typed entirely in Korean."

That's when he transforms into an unofficial translator for the day.

On two recent occasions, the artist has even played an integral role in facilitating the repatriation of the deceased to their home country of Nigeria after one person fell victim to COVID-19 and another to a heart attack.

This experience had a lasting impact on every party involved. And for Che, it fueled his decision to launch a community-based art project in the form of a music video to seek meaningful cross-cultural collaboration.

He invited several African entertainers who were now settled in Korea as blue-collar workers ― including Ghanaian rapper Nightingale, Nigerian indie singer May Charlez and "Nollywood" actor Akagha Kenneth ― to produce "Welcome to My Funeral," a multilingual, cross-genre addition to the K-pop scene.

A wingtip shoe-shaped casket featured in the music video is inspired by Ghanaian funerary tradition, where the deceased is honored with a "fantasy coffin" of customized and spectacular design.

As it is carried by pallbearers of different races and ethnicities, the casket becomes an inclusive tribute to the nomadic lives led by the migrant laborers in Korea.

Che noted that Korea, which suffers from a chronic decline in the birthrate, now stands at a critical juncture.

"More and more migrant workers, including those hailing from Africa, are bound to enter Korea's labor market in the not-too-distant future to address the worsening manpower shortage," he said.

"That means the current landscape of Dongducheon, Paju and Songtan speaks to what will be the future of Korea as a multicultural country. Through 'Capital Black,' I hope to introduce the background of these transnational laborers' migrations to establish a foothold for mutual cultural understanding."

Che Onejoon's "Chiemelie and Edie, Dongducheon" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist, Hakgojae Gallery