Living among migrants: A journey of hospitality and grace

Columban lay missionary Lee Kyung-Ja Christina on an outing on Nami Island with migrant mothers and their children. - Photo: Lee Kyung-Ja Christina

I live in a neighbourhood where migrants and asylum seekers dwell side by side. One section has already been vacated due to redevelopment and all access routes have been sealed off. These changes weigh heavily on the hearts of our migrant neighbours, stirring anxiety about relocation and the burden of higher rent in an uncertain future.

In this unsettled place, I’ve been visiting my neighbours - migrants and asylum seekers - and slowly becoming part of their lives. People from various countries in Africa and Asia with different religions live here. While the area may seem quiet and ordinary, stepping into their lives reveals a rich tapestry of cultures. Living among such diversity, learning from one another and respecting different traditions is deeply meaningful.

Yet, as a fragile human being, I also face challenges. Differences can bring discomfort and understanding takes time. I’ve rented a two-bedroom unit here to offer temporary shelter - up to six months - for asylum seekers in urgent need. I remember one Arab woman who lived with me. We shared all common spaces outside our rooms. Navigating our differences in lifestyle, food and worldview wasn’t always easy. Even grocery shopping required thoughtful consideration to respect her preferences.

Our backgrounds were vastly different and learning to understand each other took time, patience and grace. Yet through that shared experience, I witnessed the quiet beauty of hospitality, where love is expressed not just in words, but in the willingness to make space for someone else's story.

Columban lay missionary Lee Kyung-Ja Christina on an outing on Nami Island with migrant mothers and their children. - Photos: Lee Kyung-Ja Christina

She had fled her country after threats to her life for defying conservative Islamic norms. Rejected by her family, she arrived in Korea - not by choice, but by circumstance. Three years had passed and the only official documents she held were a passport and a deportation deferral notice stamped “not permitted to work”. Despite these limitations, she had to survive. She worked illegally in a factory until a back injury forced her to quit.

Later, while washing dishes at a restaurant, she slipped and severely injured her shoulder. Unable to do physical labour, she struggled even more to find work. Still, she remained determined to live independently, searching tirelessly for any opportunity. On fortunate days, she secured a few hours of part-time work. She longed to leave Korea, but no country would accept her. Returning home was not an option - her life would be at risk.