Korean women on the semiconductor assembly line: the workers check the components for faults, using microscopes for inspection because the parts are so small. The result? Blindness (to varying degrees), headaches and sever eye strain. In export-oriented or foreign-dominated economies, the workers are the losers.

Photo: Far Eastern Economic Review.

Part 1 — Women’s Stories

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South Korea

“You had to go on working even though you were sick”

Kim Soon-ja

In March 1979 I was eighteen, a village girl, and what did I know? With hopes and dreams in my heart—of unlimited popularity, making money, eating well, living well, with the possibility of further education and an exciting life—I came up to Seoul and found work as an assistant machinist in a shirt factory in the Kuro industrial complex.

Machine fever

From the beginning, working as a machinist's assistant was bitter work. I was finishing the work on shirts—for example, cutting off the loose threads. But within a few months the thick dust inside the factory blocked my sinuses, and I had a sore throat all the time. The machinery was so noisy that when my machinist (elder sister) said something, I couldn't hear her. In the summer we could not even catch sight of a fan, and we had to work at the machines with sweat running down our faces as if we had a fever.

In the afternoons in the summer they gave us small amounts of cold water so we did not collapse. But the place was so hot we could hardly breathe—we only survived by drinking water.

The dormitory housed five hundred of us, and there was only one matron. There were supposed to be ten workers to a room—but there was not space for ten. In winter there was a cold draft, coming through the window and cracks in the wall. We got heating under the floor for one hour per night, and there was hardly anyone who did not have a cold. There were only tired and sick people.

In all, there were eight hundred women workers employed at this factory. The cafeteria food was all right at lunchtime, when the staff (and commuters) were there eating. But the other meals were not fit even for pigs. And of course we had to pay for each of these meals.

After two years of this life I could operate the machine by myself but they would not promote me. So I felt like leaving.

Throughout this time I often had to go to hospital and spent all my earnings on medication. Sometimes, because I had no money, I had to work even though I had a cold. One day I was so ill I stayed in the dormitory to rest, but the line captain came and made me go to work. Saying there was nobody else to work, she took me by force: "you must endure". It was the kind of place where you had to go on working even though you were sick.

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Wages

Doing overtime almost every day of the month, I could get [the equivalent of] ninety-seven US dollars (70 000 won) a month, but basically it was seventy-six dollars (55000 won) a month. In order to get a job as a machinist I had to resign and go to another factory. I found work at a nearby clothing factory, but only as a second-class machinist. Wages were sixty dollars a month (1550 won a day). First-class machinists could earn eighty-nine dollars a month (2300 won a day). But the dormitory here was slightly better, having only seven to a room.

Compulsory savings plan premiums—$2.77 (2000 won)—property savings plan premiums—$6.94 (5000 won)— and meal costs were all taken out of our pay packet from the start. Without being asked whether we wanted it or not, a medical insurance premium was taken out, and there were many local taxes—despite the fact that we were below the poverty line—$138.88 a month (100 000 won).

Sickness

At this place my health deteriorated and all my earnings went on medical treatment. I went on working, for when there was no money there was no medicine. Once I was so sick I could not do any overtime, but they forced me, even threatening to fire me. They forced us all to do overtime even though we were in agony. We were supposed to get one week's sick leave, but we did not get it.

I resigned, and went home to the country to rest. With the peace and quiet, I began to recover over the following one and a half years. I hated the factory life in Seoul. At that first factory, I would sometimes ask for time off, but this would never be allowed.

This time, I went back to Seoul and found work as a housekeeper for an elderly couple. I still had not fully recovered, but my strength was coming back. But they had many children and grandchildren who would come to visit, and every day there was much cleaning and entertaining to do. It was a big house; there was a lot of work to do, and I became tired and sick again.

Tuberculosis

Even though the pay was [the equivalent of] $ 115 a month, I found I could not save on this. I finally went down-country again to get back to full health. I sought medical treatment, and tests showed I had contracted tuberculosis. Since May last year I have had to take medication every day, and for four months I had to have an injection every second day. For one month I could not eat—I had an intra-venous drip instead. I could not even walk during this time—I felt very bad.

I had injections for four months but was told by the doctor to take shots for another two months. But my stepmother opposed this and started complaining very loudly that I was malingering. So I went up to Seoul again, still taking medicine daily.

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Return to Seoul

It was August 1983—just ten days before the Korean thanksgiving period (autumn evening festival). I asked a friend in a textile factory in the Kuro industrial complex if she knew of any places where they didn't force you to do overtime. I found an electronics factory in Industrial Complex No. 1, and began work. But I was not fully recovered and the work was arduous. I wanted to quit, but because I could not live without food, I lasted seven months there.

I was back on $97 (70 000 won) a month. After three months, I got $3.88 extra, and after six months $1.94 extra. We were not paid throughout the thanksgiving period, New Year or any public holidays. Though they had told me there would be no overtime, after two or three months they started pressuring us to do overtime.

At present I am staying with my young brother, who is a day labourer. I prepare meals for him, and rest. Because of the machinery noise and dust in that textile factory I do not hear so well these days. It was there I caught a chronic cold; this became bronchitis and, finally, tuberculosis.

While working, I would remit home money to my parents every month. Over time, this amounted to $138 dollars (100 000 won). But they spent all this, for they have little money and their situation is poor—they have medical costs too!

I hope to live diligently, but this will depend on the condition of my health; I and all my relatives will fight despair even though we have no more tears left. The meaning of life has become unclear to me, and it seems good fortune is hard to come by. Yet it is my dream to recover fully and become a factory worker again—so I can work well, and do evangelism.