<![CDATA[Coronavirus: as quarantine measures bite in South Korea, working class takes hardest hit]>

Jung Mi-kyeong, 52, stands by the counter inside her sporting goods store drinking coffee. This past week was supposed to be one of the busiest of the year for her store, which specialises in hiking and camping equipment, as South Koreans geared up for spring outings. But on this day, like so many others during the past month, the only sound coming out of her store was music from her playlist.

In her 25 years of selling clothes in the city of Paju, northwest of Seoul, she has never faced a bigger business crisis. "I start to head home early at 5pm these days, as there are literally no customers," she said.

With more than 9,300 confirmed cases of Covid-19 and over 130 deaths, South Korea's government has enacted nationwide containment efforts that include shutting down community centres and schools and emphasising self-quarantine measures meant to curb the rate of infections. But those measures have also taken a toll on small businesses.

For Jung, who lives with her husband, these are trying times for a household of two making below the median monthly income of 2,991,980 won (US$2,408), with no steady paycheques. "Nowadays, I consider myself lucky to make 10,000 Korean won (US$8) a day," Jung said.

In contrast, most white-collar workers employed by larger South Korean companies have the luxury of working at home to avoid the risk of contracting the coronavirus while receiving their regular paycheques.

Even before the pandemic delivered a serious blow to her business, Jung made a little less than 900,000 won (US$716) a month, entitling her and her husband to receive money from the government for basic living expenses.

A traditional market in the city of Paju, northwest of Seoul. Photo: David Lee

Many of Jung's business neighbours in the traditional market area that houses her shop also battle financial difficulties, with several cosmetic shops and bars facing closure.

If not for the government's stimulus package of 11.7 trillion won (US$9.8 billion), which includes emergency low-interest loans for middle-size companies and small businesses, South Korea's business community would be in a fight merely to survive.

For Jung, keeping her business afloat was a matter of receiving a discounted monthly rental rate of 50,0000 won (US$41) from her landlord. "Most days, I just want to quit coming to my shop, but I continue to open its doors every morning in order to continue having hope," she said.

Yi Sang-gu, president of the Welfare State Society, a think tank that focuses on welfare policies, and formerly the chief of social policy at the Blue House " the Korean president's office " said working-class South Koreans faced a number of issues in battling the coronavirus that wealthier South Koreans do not.

"While families living in large homes don't have as many problems staying inside for long periods of time, people staying in flats as small as 3.3 square metres for months at a time can face serious physical and mental hardships," he said.

Yi also said the working class face health issues, like getting enough "money, quality food and the freedom to exercise to have a healthy body."

With South Korean schools closed until April 6, working-class parents with school-age children face a juggling act in keeping incomes flowing and taking care of their kids.

Ha Young-suh, 44, a single mother in the southeastern city of Pohang who has an 8-year-old daughter, makes ends meet by selling handbags at a department store. But most days, she said, she works until 9pm, often selling just one bag a day.

Unlike parents who can afford nannies or tutors for their children as they wait out the coronavirus crisis, Ha barely makes enough money for rent and food. Fortunately, a local government-sponsored children's welfare centre has helped fill the gap, taking in her daughter for the day and also providing classes in music, mathematics and English.

"The children's centre has been like a mother to me, as they welcome my daughter from 9am ... and has extended its hours of operation until 9pm just for me," Ha said. "It's the only place I've been able to rely on these days."

In Seoul, homeless centres and soup kitchens have also closed amid the tighter regulations and a drastic reduction in the number of volunteers making themselves available for work.

People wait outside a soup kitchen in Seoul. Photo: David Lee

"We have continued to stay open, as hundreds of homeless people would not have a place to go if we closed all of the sudden," said Woo Yeon-shik, the director of Dream City Centre, one of a handful of homeless centres that have remained open.

"In effect, lines in front of soup kitchens that saw up to 400 people now have 700 people cramming for little amounts of food," Woo said.

Kim Ha-sik, 60, visits Dream City Centre every day from his nearby lodging house. Before the Covid-19 outbreak, he found work at construction sites that would pay him about 150,000 won (US$121) per day. But now, "there's no more work for people like me at the sites any more," he said.

"I saved enough money to pay two more months of rent, but I don't know where I'll go after the money runs out," he said, showing a plastic zip bag containing three 50,000-won bills.

As for seniors who are most vulnerable to the physical risks of contracting Covid-19 " especially for those living alone " the closing of community centres and welfare programmes has meant a significant blow to their livelihoods.

Ko Myung-hee, 53, has decided with her colleagues at the Paju Senior Community Centre, which has been closed indefinitely, to continue driving to the homes of elderly South Koreans living alone in the northernmost province of the country.

There are about 14,000 seniors living alone in Paju, while more than 740,000 seniors live alone in the country.

"Even when the centre tells us not to go, we buy groceries with our own money to make side dishes while visiting senior homes," said Ko, who makes 20,000 won (US$16) per month as a part-time employee of the centre.

Homeless people crowd the Dream City Centre in Seoul. Photo: David Lee

She said that most of the seniors are too scared to come out of the house to visit the market or the hospital, as news coverage of the virus has created a massive phobia among the public. Long lines can be seen every day in front of pharmacies that sell limited numbers of masks provided by the government.

"I gave away all of my masks at home to seniors as they are currently not receiving enough assistance from the government," Ko said.

"Their children are too busy with their own lives and [the seniors] are socially isolated just because of their age," she said, adding that the problem was only bound to get worse.

Purchase the China AI Report 2020 brought to you by SCMP Research and enjoy a 20% discount (original price US$400). This 60-page all new intelligence report gives you first-hand insights and analysis into the latest industry developments and intelligence about China AI. Get exclusive access to our webinars for continuous learning, and interact with China AI executives in live Q&A. Offer valid until 31 March 2020.

This article originally appeared on the South China Morning Post (SCMP).

Copyright (c) 2020. South China Morning Post Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved.