KOREAN DIASPORA VOICES: Sergey’s Story

By Sergey Tsay

It took me some time to decide on the format of this article. Should it be a summary of personal memories, a retelling of conversations with my paternal grandparents and my dad, or a brief history of the 100,000+ Koreans forcibly deported to Kazakhstan in 1937 from the Russian Far East? I decided not to delve too deeply into history or politics, but instead to share my family’s experience and offer some personal context that may help readers understand the Korean presence in Kazakhstan - also referred to as Kore Saram in some publications.

The history of the Korean side of my family (my father is Korean; my mother is Armenian-Azerbaijani) mirrors that of many Koreans who were deported to Kazakhstan, “successfully” adapted to life under Soviet Union’s rule, integrated into society, and, in many cases, lost touch with their cultural roots. Kore Saram-deul were the first ethnic group in the Soviet Union to be deported.

My great-grandparents initially moved from Korea to China, then to the Russian Far East, before being forcibly relocated to Kazakhstan in 1937. Over the years, they had to adapt multiple times, first to life in the Soviet Union, then to life in Kazakhstan. From what I’ve heard, along the way, we lost family members - some died during the journey; with others, the connection was simply lost. They may have stayed behind in Korea or China.

From what my dad recalls, Kore Saram-deul were brought to Kazakhstan and left in the open steppe land with no shelter. They struggled with local unfamiliar food, no access to the sea, and harsh weather conditions. Most were settled in agrarian areas with the goal of growing rice, onions, and other crops. It was autumn, and the weather was turning cold. Many Kore Saram-deul dug underground shelters near the fields (to stay close to work and survive the climate). With the tremendous help of local Kazakhs, they managed to survive, and for that, we are deeply grateful.

Over time, Kore Saram-deul integrated with locals, learning Russian and Kazakh, and creating Korean community centers, theaters, churches, bars, restaurants, and more. Kazakhstan became a new home for many Koreans. Personally, I rarely experienced discrimination for being Korean. The only jokes I recall from school were around the word sobakoyed (“dog eater”), but I didn’t find them particularly offensive, maybe I had already developed thick skin by then.

My paternal grandfather was around 15 years old when he was deported to Kazakhstan. When the Soviet Union was invaded by Nazi Germany in 1941, he was sent to a labor camp (often referred to as the Labor Army). My grandmother worked at that time as a sewing machine operator. For various reasons, including economic hardship and instability, my grandparents had my father relatively late, he was born in Kazakhstan in 1961.

In 1997, 60 years after the mass deportation, the government of Kazakhstan offered reparations to families who had been deported. While it was technically the Soviet Union’s responsibility, Kazakhstan issued the payments. The compensation was symbolic and small, but meaningful to my grandparents.

During the 1990s, after the collapse of the Soviet Union (in December 1991), many Kore Saram families returned to the Russian Far East where their ancestors had once settled. But my family stayed in Kazakhstan. We had no remaining ties in the Far East, and we were already well integrated in Kazakh society. At that time, my father was married to my mother and had me and my older brother.

It took some time for my Korean relatives to accept my mother, as she was not ethnically Korean, and to accept us, her children. My grandparents had hoped my father would marry a Korean woman, probably to preserve the cultural identity. In hindsight, I understand their concern. Interethnic marriage is very common now, and as a result, Kore Saram-deul are gradually losing their distinct cultural identity. Kore Saram-deul never had designated territories in the Soviet Union and Kazakhstan and mostly live in larger cities today.

Kore Mar, a local Korean dialect, exists only in spoken form and is used primarily by the elderly. My father says he could speak and understand Kore Mar when he was a child, but after starting Russian school, he partially lost it. Today, he still understands a bit of Kore Mar, but modern Korean sounds unfamiliar to him because it’s quite different.

I tried to find old photographs of my grandparents and their parents, but many were lost or destroyed. My Korean grandmother believed that clothing, personal items, and photos of dead relatives should be burned to prevent the spirits from “lingering” in this world. A few pictures were saved by distant relatives, and I am sharing them here.

The story of Kore Saram-deul in Kazakhstan is not just about history, it’s about people who were uprooted, who had to start over again and again, and find ways to adapt to new cultures, survive and belong. It is also a story of what can be lost along the way - relatives, traditions, language, and sometimes even a sense of who you are. When I began learning the Korean language at the Korean Culture Center, it wasn’t just about studying grammar and words - it was a way to reconnect with Korean culture. I wanted to feel closer to where the Korean side of my family came from, to hold on to something that had been quiet for too long.