Indonesian workers try their luck in Korea

By K. Basrie

SEOUL (JP): It was a chilly November evening at the famous round-the-clock Namdaemun market.

A young man, in rugged jeans, jogging shoes and an oversized leather jacket, hustled along through the busy tourist marketplace.

At one of the alleys, he stopped and starred at a group of people who looked very familiar.

He came closer and in Bahasa Indonesia, he asked one of them: "Mas (big brother), are you from Indonesia?"

"Yupp," the man replied. "We're journalists from Jakarta."

Suddenly, he cheered and greeted the flock, one by one, while introducing himself as an Indonesian working at a jewelry workshop nearby.

Without asking the consent of his new friends, Sukri Ahkab, 21, from Talang Aur, Ogan Komering Ulu, Palembang, led the group to his place, a few minutes walk from the Namdaemun area.

Several steps from his place, Sukri stopped over at a restaurant and spoke in South Korean to a female waitress whom he appeared to know.

He then escorted his eight guests, who had actually been looking for South Korean souvenirs at Namdaemun to bring home as gifts, to his tiny place at the top of a four-story building.

"This is where I work, sleep and pray," Sukri said as he hastily took a blanket, unfurled it on the floor and asked his guests to sit on it.

The room was divided into two sections: a one meter by two meters entrance hall (used by Sukri as his living room and bedroom as well) and a three meters by four meters working place which was filled with chemicals, engraving tools, wires, plastic gloves, hundreds of unfinished rings, a heater and a washing machine. The bathroom was somewhere in the corner of this "lab".

According to Sukri, or Ali as he preferred to be called by the other Indonesian workers and his South Korean friends, the room has been, for the past two months, a place for him and his fellow colleague from Lampung, Sumatra, to work in, from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. for which they are paid 750,000 won (Rp 5.5 million or about US$600) per month.

A few minutes later, he excused himself to return to the restaurant for a while. He was back later with a big bag of fried chicken and cans of local beer.

"Why should you spend such lot of money for people like us while you're just a casual worker here?" asked one of his guests.

He smiled.

"It's not much compared to my happiness of having the chance to meet my brothers from Indonesia. It's a very lucky day for me," Sukri said.

"Overseas workers like us won't have friends if you just work and save your money. I have to treat people, including local Koreans, only to make more friends," he added.

While asking his guests to enjoy the meal, Sukri recalled his journey to Seoul.

After graduating with a first class diploma (D1) in accounting from a private university in Yogyakarta, he asked his father to sell the family's Suzuki Carry minivan to help finance his trip to South Korea.

"I had never dreamed of becoming an overseas worker like this. The idea came from my friends."

After paying Rp 2.5 million in commission fee to the broker, he paid another Rp 5 million as down payment to a company, under the supervision of the Ministry of Manpower, which had arranged for his training, travel documents, visa and job.

The remaining Rp 7.5 million was to be paid in stages to the company after he had found employment in South Korea.

He recalled the unpleasant moments he and his friends experienced at the ministry's training center in Cianjur, West Java.

"The training had nothing to do with teaching us how to work or behave. It was a military-style training which forced me to spend more time hiding in the kitchen.

"If you don't give the instructors Rp 50,000, you'll be punished, for example, submerged in a dirty ditch.

"A friend of mine went insane, probably due to the military- like training."

Sukri arrived in South Korea in April 1999 and was immediately hired at an aluminum producing factory near the North-South Korean border for 400,000 won (about Rp 3 million) per month.

"There, I bathed in water that had been used to wash vehicles," he recalled, adding that about one-third of his salary was cut to pay his debt in installments to the ministry's firm.

Early this year, he ran away from that place after being involved in a heated debate with his employers, who he said treated the Indonesian workers like him unfairly.

"They gave special-day bonuses only to South Korean employees, while we (Indonesian workers) worked 36 hours in total on Fridays and Saturdays and from 9 a.m. untill midnight on the other working days," Sukri said.

He then moved to another town and worked at a factory producing compressed granulated cork.

"At this new place, I was paid 500,000 won, about half of that received by attendants at big supermarkets in Seoul," Sukri said.

Here, he stayed only for seven months. His boss asked him to leave after he was accused of provoking his Indonesian fellow workers to stage a protest over the bonuses given to workers from Thailand, the Philippines and South Korea.

"Sometimes, I think I'm a naughty boy. But, it's them (the employers) who didn't treat us fairly while we, the Indonesian workers, worked very hard for them," he said.

He then left for Seoul to meet friends from Sumatra. After several weeks of being jobless in Seoul, his friend from lampung offered him a job at the current place.

In the first few days, he said, "my eyes hurt as I was still unfamiliar with the job, particularly on how to embed the small gems in the rings and earrings."

Using top-class brand names, such as Channel, Sukri's boss distributed the silver jewelry to a number of top department stores in Seoul.

"A box of 100 rings and 300 pairs of earrings cost 950,000 won. But a special complete package of a pair of earrings, a ring, a necklace and a toe ring is set at 750,000 won, which is my one month take-home pay," he said with a broad smile.

Sukri has a group of Korean friends. He speaks Korean and can read Hangul (Korean alphabets).

"I learned Korean from the book (dictionary) and by conversation. I learned Hangul from notices and advertisements placed along the subways," he said.

In the first few days in South Korea with his mind still somewhere back home, his supervisor -- speaking in Korean -- asked him to reverse the forklift. His superior did not know that his word meant "hit it" in Palembang.

"So, I drove the forklift a few meters back and moved forward to hit the bulk of aluminum. The man was so mad with me," he said, giggling.

Sukri is one of some 13,500 Indonesian "trainees" working in South Korea in various sectors.

"I'm happy here. I've sent some Rp 60 million to my parents back home," he said.

According to his fellow female workers, Ani and Endang, both 26 from East Java and working at a stocking factory, the only sad moments are during Ramadhan and Idul Fitri which are special periods in Indonesia.

"We just cry in the night, longing of our families far away home," Ani said.