Cardboard Collector

The Collector’s Burden

Written and Photographed By Karly Pierre

Interview translation by Cho Nam-hee

Mrs. Kim moves slowly, judging, sorting and collapsing cardboard boxes and plastic bottles carelessly tossed in piles along the street. She stacks another bag of plastic bottles and panels of flattened boxes onto her cart, precariously exceeding the 70-kilogram limit it can comfortably carry. Gray hair sprouts from the top of her red visor; her bare hands are wrinkled.

Of her childhood, she recalls only three things: eating, cold weather and feeling hungry. In her lifetime, she was a part of the generation that propelled Korea into its warp-speed transformation from a war-ravaged country to an economic and technological triumph. Now, in her 80s, the struggles of her youth have returned.

“Things have changed too much,” Kim said. “Many shops downtown have moved or closed down. Unlike in the past, we do not live together as a whole family. Everything has changed so much.”

Like the 49 percent of Koreans age 65 and over living in relative poverty (according to a 2014 Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) economic survey), Kim has not reaped the benefits of Korea’s economic prosperity.  Korea’s elderly poverty rate starkly contrasts with the average rate of other OECD countries, which hovers at 13 percent.

The cause of this staggering statistic is largely attributed to the breakdown of the system of familial support that has sustained Korean society for generations. Korea’s Confucian tradition dictates that the family, namely the eldest son, is responsible for supporting aging parents. But over the past few years, government surveys have shown sons’ and daughters’ increasing unwillingness or inability to fulfill those duties.

Because of ingrained cultural expectations that families would care for the elderly, the Korean government had no welfare system in place until 1988. But the system has proved inadequate. In 2011, Korea had the second lowest budget for elderly welfare among OECD countries. If the elderly population, projected to rise to 40.1 percent of Korea’s population by 2060, remains unsupported, this age group could drive poverty in the country up to devastating levels. The government recently implemented long-term care initiatives and increased public pension benefits. However, in 2014, according to Korea Statistics, only 39.6 percent of the population aged 65 and over received public pensions. Even with government assistance, some still found it hard to make ends meet.

So, many in Kim’s age group continue to work—and many work as cardboard collectors.

Elderly cardboard collectors, or pyeji jubneun eoreushin  (폐지 줍는 어르신) in Korean, are a common sight on city streets across country.

Kim has been collecting for 10 years.

“When I first started collecting, I always skipped lunch,” Kim said. “However, that brought me severe pain all over my body. Now I try to pack a lunch for myself and have it regularly. Since I have arthritis, I eat sagol.”

Sagol is a beef leg bone soup, which is well known for healing joints.

Kim wakes up at six every morning to care for and have breakfast with her husband who suffers from Alzheimer’s.

“At first, we collected cardboard together,” Kim said. “My husband used to ride his motorcycle to the edges of Gwangju to collect anything that was worth a penny. But that did not last very long. My husband had to have hip-joint surgery. Then I had to take care of him and work at the same time all by myself.”

She collects during the weekdays, usually beginning at 9:30 in the morning. Her first stop is the nursery near her home.

“They take all their recycling out the night before,” Kim said. “I try to get there first…I usually look for cardboard around the downtown area…I work until 5 or 8 at night.”

On the weekends, she rests.  She visits a Chinese medical center for therapy on her shoulders, waist and knees. It’s a rare opportunity for personal interaction.

“I don’t have any friends,” Kim said. “Many people who used to live in my neighborhood have moved to another area or passed away. The only person I talk to is my husband.”

Between the harsh years of her youth and old age was a brief period of prosperity. Kim and her husband owned a stationary store across from an elementary school.

“We provided pretty much all of the school materials students needed,” Kim said. “But the number of students shrank dramatically and business began to decline. We had to close our business.”

They had borrowed money to pay the jeonse (전세), a large refundable deposit paid to the landlord for housing, on an apartment. However, the landlord never returned the deposit and disappeared with the money.

“The only place we could stay was a cramped cellar right under the stationary store,” Kim said. “No heaters, only walls of concrete. It was freezing in the winter.”

Kim and her husband now live alone in Gyerim 1 neighborhood. Many in Kim’s generation increasingly do not live with their children.  A 2013 Korean Statistics survey showed that 67.8 percent of the elderly age 60 and over lived independently and 73 percent did not want to live with their children, a noticeable departure from the traditional multigenerational Korean household.

Kim’s son works at the post office and her daughter works at the district office. Her children often assist financially, but Kim and her husband mostly rely on the 360,000 won a month public pension they receive jointly and her earnings from collecting.

“If I earn around 20,000 won, I call it a successful day,” Kim said. “One hundred kilograms of cardboard and recyclables would give me about 9,000 won.”

Moo Yeol Lim opened the Wooju Muyeok (우주무역) junkshop seven years ago. Cardboard collectors come to Moo’s shop to redeem their recyclables for money, and they bring their stories as well.

“The people who collect usually don’t get any support from the government or are very ill,” Moo said. “Most of the collectors who come here are ladies around 70 to 80 years old. It seems like women tend to live longer than men.”

Moo later remembered that one of his clients was 100 years old. He called her up to confirm.

“Yes, she was born in 1915,” Moo said. “I have known her for more than 10 years now. When I first met her, she was unable to move, but after collecting cardboard around the neighborhood, her health improved. It’s quite interesting that she got better after working.”

Although Kim said she never experienced mistreatment while collecting, Moo worried cardboard collectors were often misunderstood.

“I want people to know that there are a variety of people who are involved in this industry,” Moo said. “Not only poor people are involved in it. Some people have a house and children who they can ask for support, but they are not getting any support and they just make a living for themselves. Even if you have a relatively well paid son or daughter, the world is too tough to live, so it is difficult for parents to ask them for help.“

Many Koreans work far into their old age, determined not to be a burden to younger generations.

“I have to take care of my husband and myself,” Kim said. “I will collect until I can’t work.”

It’s late afternoon, but Kim has a few more stops in mind before going home. She presses the full weight of her body against the cart as she makes her way down the street.