Published by the Gwangju International Center since 2001
Spring is already in the pipeline. Avian messengers cum couriers of the season will soon appear in our skies. Among other birds of that ilk, swallows will be sighted here and there, almost always in pairs. As birds go, they are exceptionally smart. Smart enough to be able to fly across seemingly endless stretches of ferocious ocean.
The five nations of Central Asia – Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan – were once part of the USSR. Their being late to obtain independence has meant that they are arguably still overlooked, though they are hidden gems in their own right. Kazakhstan, like its neighbors, is home to scenery that is nothing short of epic: Mountains capped with snow, glacial lakes, and gorges make it a dream for keen hikers and novices alike. It is a country where the influences of Islam and communism still clash wonderfully with each other, making way for some truly beautiful architecture, the likes of which I have never seen anywhere else.
This historical fiction is centered upon a diary of a few months written in 1942 in Warsaw, Poland. The memoir belonged to Henryk Goldszmit, a writer, radio host, columnist, and director of two children’s orphanages. The novel by Mario Escobar revolves around this short but shameful time in history. It was Goldszmit’s life of dedication to children that inspired the Declaration of the Rights of the Child, adopted by the United Nations in November 1959.
In the popular narrative of South Korea, people generally, and somewhat correctly, believe that this country that has become such an incredible economic and cultural powerhouse was built on sheer hard work. What is so easily overlooked is the human cost and the sacrifice, often by those who were willing to pay the ultimate price for their beliefs, that fundamentally shifted the landscape and laid the true foundation upon which democracy could take hold.
Tim Warnberg was a 24-year-old American Peace Corps volunteer who lived in Gwangju and worked at Chonnam University Hospital as a Hansen’s Disease case worker. During the Uprising, he remained in the city to help take care of the citizens.1 Tim was selfless during that time, doing all that he could to aid the citizens, and he has long been recognized for his contributions. There is no question that Tim played an important role in Gwangju before, during, and after the Uprising.
Crossing the language barrier over to French-speaking Wallonia, we end up at the capital of Wallonia, a city called Namur.
When David Dolinger came to Korea as a Peace Corps volunteer in 1978, the situation was very different. In his incredible book Called by Another Name, which was co-authored by Matt Vanvolkenburg, he recounts how his experiences treating tuberculosis patients in rural Yeongam and witnessing the brutality of the 5.18 uprising changed the course of his life. While speaking with Dolinger (who holds a PhD in microbiology and immunology) during his recent trip to Gwangju, it quickly became apparent how the events surrounding 5.18 laid the foundation for his considerable scientific achievements as well as his lifelong commitment to helping those that are marginalized.
This month’s article discusses the “han” in the Korean name of South Korea: Hanguk. Is “han” a Chinese loanword? Is it unique to Korean? Why was it selected for the name of South Korea? Why do Koreans put so much meaning into this han? Answers to these questions can be found in the following article.
