Magdalena House

I'm a bit tired tonight after spending the entire day with one of my yeemos(maternal aunts). We met for lunch at COEX, a huge, underground shopping mall before going back to her apartment where I played with her adorable Yorkshire terrier(whose white by the way...whose ever heard of a white Yorkie?), vegged out in front of the TV(I'm getting addicted to CSI which is always playing on Korean TV), and ate a lot. There's still homework to be done, vacation plans to work out...but, I've really been meaning to write about this...


"That's the same age as my son!," she whispers to me with surprise at first, before adding, "I knew I felt an instant connection to you."

"He's a university student, you know" adds the social worker who has just introduced us.

"Ohh, my son is a university student too!" she says with very obvious pride. "Maybe you can teach me a little but of English. Just this and that."

This past Thursday I started volunteering at Magdalena House, a halfway house for women transitioning out of prostitution. Operating since 1985, Magdalena House is a home for former prostitutes(as well as women who want to leave the sex industry) to live together and regain self-esteem through self-empowerment and living in a supportive community.

Among the services it provides, all free: medical care, room and board, job placement and re-
training programs, group counseling, AIDS/HIB prevention counseling, seminars for unwed mothers and victims of sexual abuse, alchohol and drug abuse help, literacy classes, high school equivalency coursework.

One of the house's employees, Minji, met me at the subway station Thursday afternoon and walked me to Magdalena House, just another house in another Seoul neighborhood. Minji speaks the best English of all the employees there(which isn't much) and I shadowed her for a couple hours as she tried to explain--with my limited Korean and her English--the aims of Magdalena House and what kind of work I was going to do there.

Before we walked to the basement office, she took me into the house--literally just a normal house--and introduced me to one of the women who lives there. She couldn't get over the fact that I reminded her so much of her son--why we were even the same age, she kept commenting. Later, when I ate with the women[both the residents and employees], she kept looking over at my plate and encouraging--forcing, really(those of you've eaten at a Korean dinner table with older female relatives will sympathize)--me to try everything on the table.

Minji took me down to the office after where we did the informational powerpoint about the organization thing and I met a few more of the house's employees. Then, we started talking about what work I could do for them. Almost a month-and-a-half ago now, I was asked to e-mail Magdalena House about what kind of work I wanted to do. I wanted to do "real work," I told them, mentioning that I had spent last summer doing office chores and fundraising at the San Diego NGO where I volunteered.

Now, that I'm here though, when Minji asks what kind of work I want to do, I tell her I can do anything they need.

She begins, nervously, proposing a project to me in a combination of both Korean and English. "Well," she starts out, pulling a book off the shelf behind me, "this is a book of interviews with former prostitutes who used to work in Yongsan[where a U.S. military base is located]. These women are so misunderstood and face such a huge societal stigma...we want to publish it so the public can see their stories and better understand their situation. But, we don't have the money, so we want to look for American funders..."

"Yeah, I could do some research on that," I tell her.

"Oh," she answers, looking relieved, but didn't you say you didn't like that work when you did it last summer?" It takes me a little while to explain this. Last summer, I was basically just give a shitload of busywork that didn't need to be done, really, and no one really cared whether my efforts were successful or not. This project, I kept telling Minji, sounded important--I kept saying the Korean word for important several times--to me, so I'd be happy to do it.

She might think I'm a bit full of myself--"Oh, so you want to do important work"--but, ehh, hopefully not.

From there, we decided that I'd come in three days a week. I choose Friday as one of my days off. "Oh, but next Friday is our 21st Anniversary party," she tells me.

That's nice, I think, I've just started and they're inviting me to a party.

But, she continues, making unclear hand motions, "do you think you could, you know, wear a ----[muffled word] skirt"

"...I must wear a skirt if I come...?"

"Oh, no! uh....'apron!'" she exlaims in English. The hand motions make sense now. She's not inviting me to attend the party. She's asking me to be a server at the party.
[The literal translation of apron in Korean is "front skirt"]

So, this Friday I'll be there in apron and all serving food to guests at their 21st Anniversary Party.

If this was a bit dry, I apologize. I'll be dissecting various--non-logistical, probably more interesting--parts of my first impression throughout this week, hopefully!