Saturday, 6 October 2012

(Day 78) Hwaseong Immigration Detention Center-day 65 C-18

sit-ups push-ups chairlifts
5 x 50 50 35, 2 x 30

Breakfast 2 hard boiled eggs
bread with peanut flavoured filling
soy milk
Lunch rice & kimchi
steamed egg
egg & fish in hot water
Dinner rice & kimchi
pasta salad
vegetable soup

I saw a news report on Korean TV that totally pissed me off. If it had appeared on Canadian TV, special interest groups would be demanding heads for hanging.

The news report was about the burden of foreign workers on the Korean medical system. These poor migrant workers from third world countries come to Korea to work in factories, to do the jobs Koreans are too good for. The jobs are described as 3D jobs-- dirty, dangerous and difficult. Koreans think these jobs are beneath them with their 90% literacy rate and university education, so Korean businesses are forced to look overseas to fill vacant positions with immigrants whom they diligently screw over, as documented in previous posts.

As a report stated, some of these workers get injured and this forces the medical system and the taxpayer to be burdened with the cause of such things as prosthetics to replace missing limbs which cost tens of thousands of dollars.

I could hardly believe this racist tripe I was watching. In Canada, if the same thing happened, we would be rushing the doors to give money to these poor workers. Here, they're complaining about the burden placed on the Korean people. It makes me so fucking angry. If the Koreans love their fucking country so much, get the fuck out of my country and go do your own goddamn 3D job.

Our  cell seems to have naturally segregated itself. All 8 of the Chinese are in the sleeping area, pacing around, talking loudly, or playing cards. The rest of us are in the common area watching TV, reading or playing cards. I've been doing a lot of writing. The reading is all non-fiction, which tends to make me fall asleep. Its not boring, just kinda dry-- full of facts and figures.

I read one of my stories to my mom. She said it was good, but she's my mom. She saw parallels in style with Hemingway, with the sparseness of words and clipped sentence structure. Way more people need to read it before I feel comfortable with any comparisons to someone like Hemingway. I'm hardly a literary giant. I'm just a hack screwing around because of lack of anything else to do.

I've written so much, the ballpoint pen smuggled into me has run out of ink. Never done that before.