<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d249c7e80680e0c965ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="718"/><figcaption>Raju at Tilicho Lake while guiding Korean trekking guests. All Photos: RAJU SUBEDI.</figcaption></figure>This is the 18th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Raju SubediI never intended to migrate overseas for work. But there was talk that families affected during the Maoist period would get a special labour quota in South Korea under its <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Seoul-searching,1387" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Employment Permit System (EPS)</a>. My father, who had been wounded during the conflict, encouraged me to prepare for the EPS Korean language test. And I did.The special quota rumour turned out to be false, but my preparation did not go to waste. I passed my EPS language test for which I prepared at the travel company I worked for. Back then, there was just one language book to prepare from. I was familiar with using the internet because of our online bookings, the concept of using the net to study was foreign to me. Soon in 2008, I was on a plane full of Nepalis in EPS hats and jackets heading out.I was homesick and the job at a manufacturing company was physically taxing. It was a difficult first three months. Perhaps if I had grown up in Kaskikot, the village where I was born, I would have been more accustomed to physical labour. But my parents had moved to Pokhara when I was very young, and the only work I had done was a desk job at the travel company.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d279c7e80680e0c965bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="540"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d2a9c7e80680e0c965cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="540">Raju Subedi in Korea.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d2c9c7e80680e0c965djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="666">Sometimes, my hands hurt so much when I woke up after 12 hours of work the day before that I had difficulty even opening the door. My back also started to hurt, and it was clear that the job was not for me. So, I asked my employer to give me a release letter so I could move to another job. It took a while, but he agreed reluctantly.I ended up switching jobs multiple times. One of them was piling up cartons at another company. I thought that was also too taxing, only to realise that the next job at a car parts company was even harder. The company was prohibited by immigration rules from renewing the visas of foreign workers even though they liked my work as they had just let go of two local employees. A <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">migrant worker support group</a> stepped in and decided to sue the company and the government on my behalf.I had three options: return to Nepal, to stay on illegally, or to fight a legal battle. The last one made the most sense. The court case bought me time to legally stay in South Korea while the case was pending. But I did not have a work permit so I had to work illegally.An irregular status makes you vulnerable and easier to discriminate against whether in pay or just how a worker is treated overall by employers and fellow-workers. The court’s verdict finally made the company pay me a month’s basic salary as compensation, but my visa was not renewed. I subsequently applied for refugee status which was also eventually declined. I did not bother to appeal the decision, and after seven years in Korea I came home for good.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d2e9c7e80680e0c965ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="718"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The bright side of the legal battle was that it forced me to learn Korean. Earlier I had learnt Korean just to pass an exam, and by the time I had got the job it had been two years and I had forgotten most of what I had learnt. My colleagues were from Nepal and other Asian countries which meant I did not have to speak Korean much.It was only when I quit my job and applied for a new one that I realised just how rusty my language skills were. I scrambled to find Nepali seniors who spoke the language fluently whenever I got a call about a potential employment opportunity.But in court, the desperation to express myself made me learn Korean more diligently, and watch Korean movies a couple of hours everyday. It was not formal training, but life experiences that drove me to learn the language.Fighting a legal battle in a foreign country is not easy. It was difficult to take time off from work because a worker’s worth is measured solely by how much we produce. Then when my employers found out I was fighting a legal battle, they wanted to disassociate from me. They did not want to be found out hiring an irregular worker.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d319c7e80680e0c965fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="718"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>No matter how difficult it got for me in Korea, whether because I lost my jobs or struggled to find new employment, or the legal case which was an uphill battle, the thought of coming back to Nepal never crossed my mind even remotely. I had bought land in Nepal and was bent on staying on until I paid off my loans. Furthermore, if I did not make it in Korea, I was convinced that I would not be able to make it in life. I, too, wanted to be a Korean success story just like many other returnees I had met in Korea and Nepal.I struggled a lot. We Nepalis referred to the glittery ‘Korean dream’ as "दुई गुणा अन्ठाउन्न” — referring to the Rs200,000 monthly salary over a 58-month period, which was our target earnings. That kind of money would transform my life.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111414114/63723d349c7e80680e0c9660jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="1280"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>We did not realise that we may not always earn the promised Rs200,000 a month because overtime may not always be available to top up our basic salary. Or we may not be physically able to do physically demanding overtime work. Besides being difficult, routine and repetitive tasks day in and day out can also be mentally taxing. Since the time I was there, things have improved for foreign workers in Korea and perhaps lessons from the experiences of EPS predecessors like us help make adjustments to the program.The journey of my life was full of challenges. But I met the kindest Koreans. One taught me how to repair mobile phones, a skill that has come in very handy. Another hired me back even though I had quit after he found out I was struggling with the court case. I was offered shelter and legal support by strangers who just wanted to help migrants in distress like myself. Before I left Korea, my colleagues even raised money to spend on anything I wanted. There were moments and people who touched me deeply.It turns out that my connection with Korea only grew stronger after I returned to Nepal in 2015. While I was still trying to decide what was next for me, a friend recommended me to his Korean client who wanted to go trekking in Nepal. At that time, I did not even know that many Koreans came to Nepal for trekking — and a majority of them hiked to Annapurna Base Camp. The client also ran a trekking outfit company in Korea and started recommending me to people.I started organising treks for more and more Korean guests, and soon my Seoul Pokhara Travel and Tours became known in Korea as one of the best Nepali travel companies. I have employed four Nepali Korea returnees and two who have passed the Korean exam and are waiting to go to Korea for work.My clients are entirely Korean, and the business was going quite well until the Covid-19 pandemic struck. But tourism has revived and on 12 September alone, for example, I was looking after 12 Korean trekking teams simultaneously. There are some other trekking agencies in Pokhara also catering to Korean clients. Soon, I plan to also start a Korean restaurant in Pokhara.I may have learnt Korean out of desperation to tell my story in Korea, but it is serving me well today back home in Nepal.Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line. Read also: <a style="font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.15px; background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung

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Speaking the language of overseas work

<figure><img width="816" height="612" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1df69c7e80680e0af3e3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Aakash KC finally flew to Korea on 13 December to rejoin his job after being stranded in Nepal for two years. Photo: AAKASH KC</figcaption></figure>When Aakash KC flew to Kathmandu from Seoul in February 2020, he was looking forward to a three-month break in Nepal from his job in South Korea. Little did he know that he would be stranded for almost two agonising years in Nepal due to the pandemic. KC finally flew back to Seoul on Monday after months of uncertainty because of confusing information on Covid, flip-flopping rules. “As per Korean law, I had to come to Nepal for three months before resuming with same employer for another five years,” KC said as he prepared to leave. KC is part of the much-coveted <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Employment Permit Scheme (EPS)</a>, a government-to-government partnership between Nepal and Korea to supply workers, and is luckier than most other Nepali migrants because he had an employer who waited to have him back. KC had to renew his Certificate for Confirmation of Visa Issuance (CCVI) multiple times with help from his Korean employer. He said: “I used to feel anxious when co-workers from Sri Lanka had returned to their jobs in Korea whereas my future was uncertain.” KC’s employer was not just patient, he even sent him financial help during the early months of the pandemic. It is a testament to the hard work and trust that Nepali workers like KC have built with their Korean employers that they are willing to do that.  <img width="455" height="286" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1df89c7e80680e0af3e4jpeg.jpg" alt="">KC did not look for any other options during the past two years, although he was tempted to prepare for Nepal’s civil service exams. He has retained his language skills, and earlier this week was excited about returning to Korea. To be sure, not everyone is as lucky as KC. Sunita Gurung worked on a farm in Korea, and received her CCVI for continued employment. But her employer cancelled because the process dragged on for too long, leaving her heartbroken and helpless. “I understand why he did that,” Gurung said. “How long can an employer wait when I could not confirm when I could return?” For over 10,000 other Nepalis who passed the competitive Korean language and skills exams, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">pandemic has been a roller coaster ride</a>. They were too far along the process to let go of lucrative job opportunities in Korea that guarantees high wages and a secure future.  <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dfa9c7e80680e0af3e5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepali workers boarding a Korean Air flight in Kathmandu this week after being stuck for nearly two years. Korea is opening up cautiously to see if there is another Covid surge. Photo: AAKASH KC</figcaption></figure>The workers saw the Gulf and Malaysia opening up after the lockdowns, and could not understand why Korea was still closed. Some workers were under pressure from their families to take up whatever overseas job was available. “When my family saw others from the community headed to Gulf, they asked why I could not do the same. They don’t understand,” said one worker. All the uncertainty and false alarms over the past year and a half has taken a toll on the mental health of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">aspirants for Korea</a>. The lack of clear information also means confusion about whether the delay was due to Covid-19 restrictions in Nepal or Korea, vaccine status, or the result of insufficient diplomatic lobbying by the Nepal government.It has not helped that for almost three years, there has not been a Nepali ambassador in Seoul. Junior embassy staff do not have the same access and influence as an ambassador, and the country’s labour diplomacy has suffered as a result.“We knew it was due to public health concerns and the Korea government was using similar criteria to all EPS partner countries to assess whether to allow workers or not, but our government was also not being proactive,” said Askash KC who <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/delayed-dreams-for-korea-bound-nepalis/">took to the streets</a> earlier this year to put pressure on the Nepal government to lobby with the Koreans.  <figure><img width="2048" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dfc9c7e80680e0af3e6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Trilok Pant finally flew to Korea in October after waiting for nearly two years and is back at his job. "Work has started in full swing," he says. Photo: TRILOK PANT</figcaption></figure>The EPS Struggle Committee met government officials, including all five labour ministers in the past two years. A running joke within the Struggle Committee was that one labour minister who lasted only a few days in office earlier this year asked the members who had gone to appeal to him: “What is EPS?”The South Koreans had set three criteria for the corridors to resume: the presence of direct, regular flights to Incheon, all migrants buy Covid-19 insurance, and workers pay for ten-day quarantines on arrival in Korea. All these criteria were met, and despite the added cost to the workers, Nepalis finally started flying to Korea in October. Trilok Pant was among the first lot that went to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Korea</a> in October after spending 22 months here. “There was so much excitement among the 48 Nepalis who went on the first flight,” he said on the phone from Korea. “Work has started in full swing now.”Like KC, Pant was also lucky to have a kind employer who sent him money during the pandemic, and waited for him as he renewed his CCVI four times because it only had six-month validity. “On my first day out of quarantine, he took us out for dinner,” Pant recalled. “It was a happy reunion.” <figure><img width="2048" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161148/636d1dff9c7e80680e0af3e7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Trilok Pant with his co-workers, including Nepalis, in Korea pre-pandemic. Photo: TRILOK PANT</figcaption></figure>In the 22 months that he was stranded in Nepal, Pant did not do any work because of the uncertainty about Korea. But Korean employers, too, have faced problems because their workers could not get back. Nepalis mostly are on jobs that locals will not do, especially not for the salaries for migrant workers. “Nepalis have a reputation for hard work and honesty, which worked to our advantage this time as our employers waited for us patiently amid all the uncertainty and inconvenience,” Pant added. For now, only a small proportion of those waiting have been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-wait-before-flight/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">able to rejoin jobs</a>, and the Koreans appear to opening up cautiously to see if there is a Covid surge. Only if all goes well in the coming months will more workers be let in. And there are thousands of Nepalis waiting to fly out.

Long wait over, Nepalis return to Korea

<figure><img width="777" height="1035" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda0e9c7e80680e092ed8jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>One of many rallies organised by the EPS Struggle Committee in which Nepali migrant workers prevented from going to Korea have taken part. Photos: AJAY SODARI AND BIRENDRA BOGATI</figcaption></figure>From his early years, Bhim Oli from Dang knew that he wanted to go abroad to work and earn so that he could support his family. His dream, like that of many Nepali men, was to work hard and make a comfortable living for his family.On the top of that list for overseas job destinations was Korea. But the preparation costs for South Korea’s Employment Permit Scheme (EPS), language training, food and lodging expenses in Kathmandu were exorbitant.For the majority of Nepali migrant workers, the Gulf and Malaysia are final destination countries. But for Oli, Qatar was a means to an end. He took up a stint in Qatar as a waiter after completing his Bachelor’s, with a singular purpose of saving up enough so he could return and focus on his preparations for Korean language tests.The now-familiar acronym EPS usually conjures up images of tens of thousands of Nepalis lining up to register for the mandatory Korean language tests. Since 2008, over 66,000 Nepalis have obtained jobs in South Korea through this program in the agriculture and manufacturing sectors. The exam itself has been taken by a staggering 585,000 Nepalis, but less than one-tenth of the test-takers eventually get a job in Korea.  <figure><img width="720" height="405" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda119c7e80680e092ed9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After toiling for 18 months in Qatar as a ‘target earner’, Oli returned to Nepal with savings of Rs650,000 to begin his preparation for the Korean EPS. In 2017, he failed his exam. Undeterred, he studied harder for the next one and was one of the 7,996 who passed it, out of 82,264 test-takers in 2018.“I cannot afford to go to the US. The only option for people like us to try to go to the US is via irregular channels, which costs over 40 lakhs (Rs4 million). Savings in the Middle East or Malaysia are nominal, so I was eyeing Japan and Korea as the best alternatives,” he explains. “In Korea, I can expect to earn one crore (Rs 10 million) in 4 years 10 months, an amount that would be impossible elsewhere.”But his dreams came crashing down with the onset of the pandemic. Oli was matched with his employer on 3 March, 2020. But unfortunately his employer cancelled his contract in December after he had been waiting for over six months.The pandemic has thrown the prospect of the new cohorts of aspirant EPS workers in a limbo. The flight restrictions, lockdown and the classification of Nepal by South Korea in the ‘red zone’ for public health reasons has riddled the past year with uncertainties.“They have other options to bring in workers from East Asian countries where mobility has not been barred, so it is understandable,” Bhim Oli says. “Thankfully, I have been matched with another employer but am worried that I will again lose this opportunity if things don’t change soon.”His story is not unique.For Ajay Sodari from Kailali, the lure of South Korea came from the transformation he saw in the living standard in the life of an acquaintance. It seemed within reach for someone like him from a humble background, if he only put in the effort. Unfortunately, he failed the Korean language test in Kathmandu in 2018. Unable to afford another expensive stay in Kathmandu, he went to Himachal, India for four months to pick apples, earned around Rs80,000 and used that money to survive in the city as he prepared diligently. “I studied around 18 hours a day for the language test—I had not studied that hard for my SLC, 12th or Bachelors, but I finally managed to pass in 2019,” says Sodari. It was also the year that the government of Korea made an additional skills test mandatory, so it took another few months of preparation. Luckily, he passed. Altogether, 92,000 individuals took the test that year, of which only 12,000 passed.Sodari was selected to work in an aluminium company. He was thrilled when the cabinet decided in May 2020, to let workers head to South Korea. But the decision has been confined to announcements, as none of the migrants have been able to travel.Frustrated, and knowing that there were thousands of others in his situation, Sodari started a group called <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-overseas-workers-who-remain-behind/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-overseas-workers-who-remain-behind/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1617157112261000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEr9_-0OaHXf451xm0auj-YqR5hKQ">EPS Struggle Committee</a> and staged a protest at the Mandala in Kathmandu. They have held three such <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-wait-before-flight/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-long-wait-before-flight/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1617157112261000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHQsUwKBvvQc3UPCcNadPKprzpdFg">protests</a> in the last 13 months, bringing together hundreds of migrants from all over Nepal, but to no avail.The group has turned to various authorities for help, beginning from labour ministers, to Korean and Nepal government authorities. While they are only met with empty promises and false assurances, they remain persistent in their efforts to get things moving. But the absence of a Nepali ambassador in Seoul for the last two years has adversely affected active diplomacy. <figure><img width="1822" height="1236" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda139c7e80680e092edajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“The issuance of visas has been stopped due to public health concerns. Until last week, Nepal was included in the red zone. But as of last week, they have lifted Nepal from this category and partially started issuing visas in certain categories, like for students,” says Indra Gautam, Director of the EPS Department. “Gradually, they will start issuing visas for EPS workers as well and we are putting in the necessary requests.”In addition to public health concerns, the Korean side has also expressed concern about a high number of fraudulent cases among test-takers from Nepal. Gautam says that this is currently being worked on, “We are now looking to conduct the exams online and to use biometrics to address the issue of fraud. The preparations are ongoing and once done, we will release information about the dates for the next examinations.”The men who have been waiting report that they have not just lost face in their families, but also money and suffered overwhelming mental stress. Sodari and other others in waiting say they do not want to be bargaining chips in the negotiations. “We have invested so much time and money and cannot afford to give up on our dreams. But this has been dragging on for so long, we cannot invest in businesses here, migrate to another country because we will be left neither here nor there as this will eventually work out,” he says.Gautam says the preparation towards a more transparent testing system affects the dates for the new test-takers. It is not tied to the issuance of visas for outgoing workers which is due to a public health concern.Since 2008, Nepalis have been taking their chances in this highly competitive program alongside competitors from 15 other countries from South and Southeast Asia. The annual quota has fluctuated, which is attributed to the domestic labour demand in Korea as expressed by employers, diplomatic ties, and the number of workers who overstay their legally allotted time that can penalise the country quota in the subsequent years. <figure><img width="1752" height="806" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda169c7e80680e092edbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The volume of workers from Nepal and Cambodia, in particular, had become relatively more important over the years. One of the reasons for it was the rising share of these <a href="https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/30471" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/30471&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1617157112261000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFw-nkRksmltNSgesrDoce1dI364A">workers in the agriculture sector</a>. The number to be hired from Nepal remains uncertain. Korea's EPS was given the <a href="https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/30471">UN 2011 Public Service Award</a> in the 'Preventing and Combating Corruption in the Public Service' category. An evaluation of this program in the Philippines, one of the 16 EPS partner countries, showed the impact on households of workers -- an <a href="https://www.econstor.eu/bitstream/10419/69347/1/731593413.pdf">increase in monthly expenditure</a> by 30-60% with most of it in health and education. In 2021, about 52,000 workers are expected to be hired from the partner countries.   To be sure, the aspirants are also aware that life in South Korea is not going to be easy as there are aspects that give the employer the upper hand. The difficulties in changing jobs and mismanaged expectations present a whole gamut of other challenges.  Nepalis who pass the EPS exams are educated, whereas the jobs they are offered are what are categorised as ‘dirty, dangerous and demeaning’. Mismatched expectations along with expectations from families can be unbearable for some. Some migrants succumb to the pressure as has been previously reported in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1617157112261000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEHeJ184AhaxNadCHqrToezGdnDkQ">Nepali Times</a>. Of the 143 deaths of Nepalis between 2009 and 2018, for example, 43 were suicide cases which got the attention of policymakers from both countries but little by way of action.  <figure><img width="720" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda189c7e80680e092edcjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Even after the onset of the pandemic, while aspirants are waiting to be employed in South Korea, the country itself has been receiving flak for certain measures it proposed. Recently, for example, a proposal requiring all foreign workers to get tested has received much criticism, including from the Nepali community in Korea. This proposal was quickly withdrawn <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-southkorea-idUSKBN2BB0MK" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-southkorea-idUSKBN2BB0MK&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1617157112261000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHLRUNfgnGRZMgZwp56Cpy5LnkG_Q">in the face of criticism</a>.It is not just new workers who have been impacted by Covid-19. Of the estimated 10,000 EPS workers stranded, a significant number are committed workers who completed over four years of stay already and were returning. The Korean government has imposed a ‘4 years 10 months’ cap, a way to ensure that migrant workers under EPS cannot qualify for permanent residency, which is available to foreigners in Korea after they reside legally for five years or longer. <figure><img width="1378" height="1038" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda1b9c7e80680e092eddjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Prakash Shrestha, a member of the EPS Struggle Committee, is a returnee migrant, who wants to go back to Korea to the same employer. “Once we land in Korea, we already dream of returning to Korea as committed workers for another 4 years and ten months, so we can double our savings,” he says.Prior to moving to Korea, Shrestha worked in a restaurant in Kathmandu but was not able to save much with his monthly earnings of Rs 12,000.He competed with 64,000 individuals taking the EPS exam in 2014. His starting salary in Korea was Rs101,000. By the time he left in 2019, he was earning close to Rs300,000 a month.He was supposed to return at the end of February 2020 as a ‘committed worker’ but has been stuck in Nepal. “I was so close to flying out and resuming my job that would have been safe for the next four years. What a difference a few days can make,” adds Shrestha, admitting that the stress has taken a toll on his mental health.“My employer, luckily, has been patient and is willing to wait for me. Having worked with the same employer for four and a half years, we have developed trust and familiarity with each other so I feel fortunate,” says Shrestha. Like many others, he is now waiting for the announcement to be allowed to fly back to Korea.

Upasana Khadka

Delayed dreams for Korea-bound Nepalis

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f779c7e80680e056e2ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina reaches out to touch her husband‘s face one last time before his cremation at Pashupati in August. Kedar Timalsina hung himself at a seafood factory in Busan where he worked. Photos: Ki Mindo/ The Seoul Shinmun</figcaption></figure>For many Nepalis, it is dream to find work in Korea where they expect to earn many times more than in Nepal. Yet, there is a dark side to the Korean Dream: between 2009 to 2018, there were 143 deaths of Nepali workers in South Korean soil, and of them 43 were suicides.The 31% suicide rate is much higher than workers from other nationalities. Among Burmese workers, there was a total of 51 deaths and 4 involved suicide, from 2011 to August 2019. Suicides rate is relatively low among Vietnamese migrant workers with zero suicide out of the 14 deaths from 2017 to August 2019.Most of these deaths involved E-9 non-professional employment visa holders who had been employed at farms and factories that suffer a chronic labour shortage. While these tragic deaths repeat every year, the South Korean government does not have a clue why so many migrant workers make such an extreme choice."Nepali migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system tend to be highly educated," notes Seo Seonyoung, a Sociology researcher at Yonsei University. “Their families have great expectation for them, but as soon in Korea they find themselves at the lowest rung of the workforce ladder. The unbearable stress could eventually force them to commit suicide." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7a9c7e80680e056e2fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A mother holds the photograph of her son, who suffered from depression while working in South Korea, and died after he returned. There have been 43 suicides by Nepali workers in Korea between 2009-2018.</figcaption></figure>There are growing voices calling for a systematic improvement to end the vicious cycle. The South Korean government has been trying to improve ties as part of its 'New Southern Policy' to balance its need for migrant workers to address the shortfall of workers.There are now 2.42 million migrant workers in Korea, and the number has nearly doubled in the past 10 years. Local farms and factories cannot function without migrant workforces.Hong Sung Soo, Law professor at Sookmyung Women's University says: "Discrimination and xenophobia towards migrants are not only inappropriate, but also not clever at all if we consider our industrial and demographic reality."Labour rights groups and health activists have been trying to find out why there is such a high suicide rate among Nepali migrant workers in farms and factories in South Korea."It is not just a single factor, there is a web of complex reasons that trap migrant workers towards the extreme choice," explains Jeong Young-seob, Co-director of the group, Migrants Act.A field survey in August of 141 migrant workers from Nepal by the Seoul Shinmun newspaper, Green Hospital and the Migrants Trade Union showed that there were four main factors: gap between expectation and reality of working in Korea, lack of exit, high expectations from loved ones back home, and ruined relationships in Nepal.Great Expectations = Great DisappointmentsTo aspiring Nepali migrant workers, South Korea is a land of opportunity, where they hope to earn five to eight times more than in a job back home. Even highly educated young Nepalis apply for an E-9 visa to South Korea. But when they arrive, they often struggle with harsh labour conditions and discrimination. Of the respondents in the survey, 28% cited a gap between the reality of their work and the expectations they had. Like Surendra, 28, who has been working in a mushroom farm for three years. He has a degree from Tribhuvan University.He says: "Before I came here, I was excited about earning Rs300,000 a month, but I had no idea about working and living conditions. Back home we rarely experience working for 12 hours without any real break. I was not even learning any skills, it was simple manual labour.”The survey showed that 45.6% of the respondents worked more than 52 hours a week, and 19% said they worked 60 hours a week, and only 26% said they had a normal 5-day work week.No ExitAfter working in South Korea for 16 months, Nepali migrant worker Shrestha, 27, jumped from the rooftop of his company dorm in June 2017. He had been suffering from insomnia as he struggled to adjust to alternate day and night shifts. His suicide note said: ‘I have been seeing doctors for health problems and sleep disorders. It did not improve. I wanted to quit and find another job but the company did not allow it. I wanted to go back to Nepal to recover, but the company said no.’ The survey showed that 71% of respondents had tried to find a new job, and 36% of them said this was because of long working hours and dangerous conditions.Migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system are allowed to change workplaces up to three times within a three-year period. But it requires permission from their employers.Hard WorkNo matter how harsh and hostile the work environment in Korea, returning to Nepal is not an option for most. It was not easy for them to come to Korea in the first place, and they carry the weight of their family's expectations on their shoulders."If migrant workers go back, the villagers would criticise them for forsaking a great opportunity, people will laugh at their failure and brand them weak. Caught between a rock and a hard place, many Nepali migrant workers commit suicide," explained Udaya Rai, the Nepali head of the Migrants Trade Union.Ruined RelationshipsWhat sustains migrant workers despite harsh working conditions in Korea is love of families back home. However, when their relationship collapses, it leads to great emotional stress. Tej Bahadur Gurung, 29, had two friends who committed suicide due to family or relationship problems.Kham Gurung, 45, recalled: "I had to deal with a family issue while I was working non-stop in Korea, but I couldn't afford to go back. That really tormented me."Naivety and lack of exposure to the outside world among Nepali youth who need better jobs to take care of their families creates a problem, says Kapil B Dahal of the Department of Anthropology at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu.Dahal says there have been no systematic study of suicides among Nepali migrant workers in Korea, or elsewhere. The Korean Ministry of Justice keeps a record of the deaths of migrant workers by country, but does not have data on the cause of death."Nepali migrant workers in the Middle East and Europe also commit suicides, yet the Nepal government and politicians do not do anything. Nepali migrant workers make a great contribution to the country's economy, but their health is overlooked and their suicides are ignored," Dahal says.The Nepal Embassy in Seoul offers counseling services for migrant workers, but Udaya Rai of the Migrant Trade Union questioned its effectiveness. "They are not interested in addressing these deaths and suicides, they fear the South Korean government might slash the quota for Nepalis if we start to speak up. That is why they stay silent and hurriedly send bodies back to Nepal." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7d9c7e80680e056e30jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Wrapped in cardboard, the coffin containing the remains of Kedar Timalsina arrives at Kathmandu airport in September.</figcaption></figure>Kedar Timalsina, 28 A coffin was rolled out of the arrival area of Kathmandu airport recently. Inside was the body of Kedar Timalsina who hanged himself on 20 July in Busan inside the warehouse of the seafood processing factory where he worked."This paper doesn't say anything about why Kedar killed himself," family members at Kathmandu airport said, examining his death certificate from South Korean police.Kedar’s family could not understand why he would kill himself. It had been only 25 days since his wife Bandana gave birth to their first son. "I even heard Kedar threw a big party in Korea to celebrate the birth of the baby. Why would such a man kill himself? It doesn't make any sense," said Bandana’s brother. Kedar had an aging mother who just turned 60, and would need his care more than before.What further frustrates the grieving family is the silence and indifference from both their government and the Korean authorities. For the Nepal Embassy in Seoul its responsibility was over after shipping the coffin to Kathmandu. South Korean police never investigated surveillance camera footage at the factory, or forensics on Kedar’s phone. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f809c7e80680e056e31jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina with her son in her lap at their home in Dong Kharka village in September. The baby was only 25 days old when her father Kedar Timalsina took his own life while working at a factory in South Korea. </figcaption></figure>According to South Korean police, Kedar’s co-worker had told them he had recently purchased some land in Nepal, which turned out to be a fraud. Kedar’s family says that is not true because the land he bought two years ago had nearly doubled in price. None of Kedar’s personal belongings were returned to his family, and Korean police said the Embassy had told them the family did not want them back. The family said the Embassy had never contacted them about his belongings."We are responsible for confirming the identity and death certificate in order to promptly return the body back to family in Nepal. The Embassy does not send back items unless they are important," the Embassy of Nepal replied when asked about it.At the cremation site in Pashupati, Bandana wept as she caressed her husband’s face for the last time. “What do I do with our baby?” she cried. It took four hours for the fire to consume Kedar’s body, and with it his ‘Korean Dream’. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f829c7e80680e056e32jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maiya Gurung looks at a picture of her daughter with her husband Bal Bahadur Gurung, who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge in Seoul in June. After failing to secure a new job, Gurung was facing deportation back to Nepal. </figcaption></figure>Bal Bahadur Gurung, 32 "He really loved the children. These kids remind me of my husband every time I see them," said Maiya Gurung, 28, wiping tears with a tissue under her shades.Maiya's husband Bal Bahadur Gurung jumped off the Wolleung Bridge in Seoul, on 12 June, and died instantly after being hit by a passing vehicle. CCTV footage showed Bal Bahadur walking nervously back-and-forth over the bridge several times, hesitating. He had become an ‘unregistered’ migrant two days ago, and feared deportation.Bal Bahadur entered South Korea with a proper work visa in October 2017. In March, he left the company and registered himself at the Ministry of Labor to find another job. Migrant workers automatically lose their right to stay in the country if they fail to secure employment within three months. Bal Bahadur went back to Nepal to spend a short time with his family then returned to Korea, but had no luck finding a job within the three month deadline.Maiya Gurung came to South Korea to take her husband’s remains. Her neighbours tell her that her husband looked so happy when he was visiting Pokhara two months before his suicide. Shocked by his youngest son’s tragic death, Bal Bahadur’s father, a former soldier, is suffering from amnesia.Maiya’s seven-year-old daughter asks her: “Did Daddy die?”“No,” she replies, “your father has gone abroad to work." Maiya Gurung weeps as she tells us later, “I want to die, too. But when I think of these poor children, I can't." <figure><img width="720" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f859c7e80680e056e33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English. He took his own life eight years ago in Korea after an altercation with a Mongolian worker.</figcaption></figure>Dhan Raj Ghale, 40 ‘I am enocent. I have no mistake. Company cheating me. I am no crazy […] company take my signiture [...] please investigation please’ This is the note left by Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English before he hanged himself in 2011 while working at a futon factory in Daegu City. Dhan even had a plane ticket booked to go back to Nepal.Upon seeing a Korean reporter in August in Pokhara, Dhan’s wife Man Maya Ghale, 48, and Dhan’s younger brother Bhim Raj Ghale, 36, recalled the events of eight years ago.Bhim said his older brother was a hard-working man who loved his family more than anything else in the world. “After seeing the letters, I thought Dhan must have been bullied at work,” Bhim recalled.Dhan also left another short letter written in Nepali: ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I once fought with another worker from Mongolia. I don’t know what that Mongolian guy told Korean people…’He also wrote twice to the manager of the company: ‘You don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t understand. Please tell me why.’ <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f879c7e80680e056e34jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Bahadur Ghale's brother Bhim with his suicide note at the family home in Pokhara in September.</figcaption></figure>The company, however, denied there was bullying, and that Dhan was never asked to sign any document. Dhan may have found Korea’s alternate day and night shifts difficult, and had been working night shifts for two months before his death. “My husband told me he could not sleep when he was working night shifts,” Man Maya recalled.Dhan’s daughter and son were ten and five at the time of their father’s death. Now they are in college and school. "I will never forgive those people who mistreated my father,” Dhan's son vows revenge, and the siblings have made joint promises to themselves they will never go overseas to work no matter what.Nevertheless, Man Maya and Bhim said they did not hate Koreans. “You see in South Korea, as well as in Nepal, there are good people and bad people. Sadly, my husband met bad people. I don’t want to blame all Koreans because of them. I just want those bad ones to be punished.”Some names have been changed.Ki Mindo is a reporter for The Seoul Shinmun key5088@seoul.or.kr These articles are reprinted under special arrangement with the Seoul Shinmun which published the <a href="https://www.seoul.co.kr/news/newsView.php?id=20191001500198">stories</a> in Korean on 23 September, 2019 as part of a Special Series titled 'The 2019 Migrant Report: Betrayed Korean Dreams'.More stories from Nepali Times on Nepalis in Korea:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025">Korea Kafala</a> by Om Astha Rai and Seulki Lee in Seoul<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813">Doing it the right way</a> by Seulki Lee<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/interview-with-Korean-ambassador-Choi-Yong-Jin,2767">“Hope Nepal’s difficulties end soon” </a> Interview with Korean Ambassador hoe Yong Jin

Dead end of the Korean Dream

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