A Conversation with Hannah Kim
Founder, Amigo Safe House
01
Your work with refugees and foreigners began in the United Kingdom in 1997. How did that experience shape your life?
Hannah Kim: My husband, Joseph, and I lived in South London for nine years. He became the director of an international ministry connected to Dundonald Church. We were surrounded by international students and foreign workers from many countries, including China, Taiwan, Poland, Mexico, Pakistan, Turkey, Japan, and Korea. Many were struggling. They did not speak English well, could not find work, and felt alone. What affected me most was the example of local British people. About thirty volunteers served with us, many of them professionals who had studied at Oxford or Cambridge and later moved to London. They gave their time freely to help foreigners they did not know. Their love was not abstract. It was active and costly. Watching them changed me. I knew I wanted to spend my life giving that same kind of love to others.
02
You were also adjusting to a new country and raising a baby. How did you care for so many people during that season?
Hannah Kim: It was hard work, but it was also a kind of exchange. Everyone had needs, and everyone could help someone else. I cooked large meals for our international cafe, sometimes for fifty or even a hundred people. My son Joshua was a baby at the time. I used to carry him around the cafe in a little basket. One Polish woman in her forties came to me in deep distress because she could not pay her rent. I told her, “Come live with us for free. You can help look after Joshua while I work.” That is how we tried to respond. We looked for practical ways to help. Mexican students were often terribly homesick, so I studied recipes and cooked food that reminded them of home. Chinese students needed local references to apply for jobs in the UK, so I invited them to our house for Bible study. That gave them a chance to build real relationships with British people who could later support them.
03
You returned to South Korea in 2006. What led you to begin your own self-funded ministry here?
Hannah Kim: When we came back, Joshua was only one hundred days old. My husband joined a North Korean missionary organization, and I stayed home. During that time, I kept asking myself, “When was I happiest?” The answer was clear. I was happiest in the UK while serving others. That work was exhausting. I cooked, hosted, listened, and counseled all the time. But the joy I felt in helping people was something this world could not give me. I knew it was my calling. When I looked around Korea, I saw a fast-growing multicultural population. There were North Korean defectors and foreign residents living in places most people did not notice. I began to sense clearly that the same calling to welcome and care for people in crisis had followed me back to Korea.
04
How did Amigo begin in a physical sense? Where did you first welcome people?
Hannah Kim: It began in our apartment in Cheongna, Incheon. I invited in women who were having a hard time, including North Korean defectors and refugees in difficult situations, as well as the wives of foreign pilots and Middle Eastern used-car dealers. Many of them were struggling with ordinary things that become overwhelming in a foreign country, such as shopping, hospital visits, or setting up internet service. Later, a friend offered me part of her bakery factory without rent. It was about fifteen pyeong, and I used it as a base for Amigo’s ministry for six years. Since then, we have moved to Lupin House (Amigo) in Seoul, South Korea. We also operate the Pohang Forest Small House (Amigo Safe House), where North Korean defectors and refugees in difficult situations can come to rest and recover.
05
You have met people in severe distress. What are some of the stories that have stayed with you?
Hannah Kim: There are many. Some people arrived at my door carrying all their belongings because they had just been evicted and had nowhere to sleep. I once took in an African kindergarten teacher who became pregnant and was abandoned by her Korean boyfriend. I also helped a Filipino woman who was going through menopause and suffering from severe depression. Because of the language barrier, she misunderstood local shop workers and thought they were mocking her. The situation turned into a serious conflict. I stepped in, helped mediate, and connected her with counseling. These are the kinds of situations that often go unseen. A person may look as though they only need translation or practical help, but underneath there is often loneliness, fear, shame, or deep emotional pain.
06
You also spend much of your time with North Korean defectors. What kind of burden do they carry when they arrive in South Korea?
Hannah Kim: They risk their lives to gain freedom, but the pain does not end when they arrive. The trauma and loneliness can be very deep. When I lived in the UK, I missed Korea terribly, but I could always buy a plane ticket home. North Korean defectors cannot do that. They leave behind parents, siblings, and the whole world they knew. Even when they become financially stable, there is often a deep emptiness that remains. I counseled one North Korean woman whose family had been relatively comfortable back home. After she was caught trying to escape, her father spent everything he had to save her. She eventually escaped again, reached South Korea, and married a successful man who bought her a Mercedes-Benz. From the outside, her life looked secure. But inside she was frightened and hollow. Her husband used a Busan accent to hide his own North Korean background. She was terrified that her own accent would come out at social gatherings and expose her. That fear shaped her whole life. When I meet people like her, I listen, I cry with them, and I try to fill that emptiness with friendship.
07
You often cook birthday meals for North Korean defectors. Why does that matter so much?
Hannah Kim: In Korea, we eat seaweed soup on our birthdays. For many defectors, their birthday is the day they miss their mother most. So I invite them to my home and cook seaweed soup for them. I tell them, “My cooking will never taste like your mother’s soup in North Korea. But I made this for you with all my heart.” That matters to them. Sometimes a small act carries the weight of home.
08
After seeing so much pain, and also so much healing, what do you hope for the future of Amigo?
Hannah Kim: The greatest reward is seeing a hardened heart become soft again. When someone recovers in our house, packs their bags, and says, “Hannah, I want to live like you. I want to spend my life helping others,” there is nothing better. As for the future, my son Joshua, who grew up within the ministry my husband and I carried out in the UK, is now older and teaches English to North Korean defectors and refugees here in Korea. I hope he will carry the spirit of Amigo beyond Korea, even to the United States and other parts of the world. My hope is simple. Wherever displaced people go, I want them to be able to find a friend.
09
Did your children also become part of this ministry?
Hannah Kim: Yes, I have a son. My son Joshua has also grown up as part of this ministry from a very young age. As I served North Korean defectors and refugees, I came to feel more and more deeply how important music is in comforting people and serving them with love. Some people carry such deep wounds in their hearts that they cannot easily express their pain in words. Others find it difficult even to have long conversations because of language barriers. But music could reach beyond all of those walls and touch the human heart. Even places that words could not reach, music would quietly enter and bring comfort. That is why I came to hope that Joshua, from an early age, would be able to serve people through music.
When Joshua was around ten years old, I had him begin learning the violin. It was not simply because I wanted him to become good at playing an instrument. I wanted Joshua not only to learn music as a skill, but to become someone who could use the talent God had given him to bring joy and comfort to others. Our home was always open to North Korean defectors, refugees, and people carrying many different stories. Some were living in loneliness in a strange land, and others carried wounds and fear in their hearts. As I served them closely, I saw again and again how much a warm meal, a sincere conversation, and a small piece of music could open a persons heart. So I hoped that Joshuas music would also be used in those kinds of moments.
At first, Joshua was still just a young child, so he was often very nervous. Playing in front of people could not have been easy for him. But over time, he naturally began to learn that his music could become a source of joy, comfort, and a gentle way of opening someones heart. I was very thankful for that. Joshua did not remain simply a child learning the violin. Through music, he learned how to stay close to people. Little by little, he learned how to notice the pain of others with sensitivity and how to be with them in a way deeper than words.
The violin teacher who taught Joshua was also a very special and unforgettable person to me. We met the teacher while praying. At the time, the teacher had already been diagnosed with cancer. Even so, instead of stopping in the middle of that suffering, the teacher regarded it as a calling from God and continued to teach Joshua, my daughter Esther, and other students to the very end, while also directing the Pueblo Youth Orchestra. Through this teacher, I was able to see up close how a person can hold on to the gift God has given them and live it out faithfully until the very end.
The teacher taught Joshua for about ten years. During that time, I constantly prayed to God that He would sustain the teachers life until Joshua had learned everything he needed to learn. And truly, the teacher remained in that place until Joshua became an adult. Sadly, on the very morning of the Pueblo Youth Orchestra regular concert not long ago, the teacher went to be with the Lord. As I watched the teachers journey to the very end, I came to feel deeply how wonderfully God sustains a persons life and calling. What Joshua and Esther learned through the violin was a very special gift from God.
The teacher especially made extra time to teach Joshua, because the teacher wanted to train him so that he could help refugees, North Korean defectors, and struggling foreigners through music in the Amigo ministry. The teacher showed through life itself that music is not simply a skill to be performed well, but a tool that can comfort people, serve them, and bring glory to God. Although the teacher suffered greatly through cancer treatment, I saw how music could make even that suffering fade for a time. Whenever there was an Amigo concert, the teacher treasured that place for North Korean defectors and refugees and gladly helped. Even when the teacher became so weak as to collapse many times, the teacher would rise again, come in person to help prepare for the Amigo concerts, and care for the students to the very end. The teacher also bore witness, through life itself, to how one can offer God given talent faithfully to the end. Watching that life up close moved me very deeply, and I believe it was a great blessing that Joshua and Esther grew up seeing such an example. For Joshua, those years were not simply a time of learning music from a good teacher. They were also a time of learning what music is for, and how deeply one persons devotion can remain in the lives of others.
So to me, Joshua is not only my son, but also a co-worker whom God has raised up within this ministry. From childhood, Joshua grew up naturally seeing the North Korean defectors and refugees who came in and out of our home, and he learned to see them not as strangers, but as neighbors to be loved. Music became one way for him to express that love. And over time, it became not just a childhood activity, but part of a life that serves, connects, and comforts people.
Now Joshua serves as an International Director. I do not believe that this happened in a single moment. I believe it is the fruit of how God has shaped him through music from early childhood, trained his heart toward people, and allowed him to grow naturally within the ministry of our family. So when I look at Joshua, I do not simply see someone who plays the violin well. I see someone whom God has prepared step by step since he was young. I am deeply thankful that he has grown into a person who can share joy through music, bring comfort, and draw near to peoples hearts.
