Daily Busan
My Busan Story ① Carrying My Crown Through Busan
"My Busan Story" is a special series by Busan's English-language newspaper, inviting foreign residents to share their unique perspectives on life in the city. From unforgettable experiences and travel episodes to small everyday joys, these stories highlight the diverse voices that make Busan feel like home. This month, we introduce the story of Mutuma Isaac Gitonga from Kenya.
When I moved to Busan, I thought the hardest part would be the language. I didn't expect how heavy it would feel to carry all of myself through a world that had never seen someone like me.
I came to teach English, but also to breathe, to find space away from pain I couldn't yet name. I brought my books, headphones, shea butter, and my hair: long, thick, braided down my back.
My hair has always been my truth, holding stories my mouth can't tell. My mother called it a crown. In Korea, though, it confused people. They stared. Whispered. Once, a man even tried to touch it without asking - like I was on display.
People didn't see me - only what they couldn't understand.
Then came Jisoo. Five years old, eyes too big, English like a song half-remembered. From day one, he stared at me like I was magic.
"Hair...teacher...like...lion!" he said, wide-eyed. I laughed. Then bowed and let him touch it. "예뻐요," he whispered. Beautiful.
The following week, he brought a stick-figure drawing: huge smile, braids to the ground, colored black with his mom's eyeliner.
His family invited me for dinner. I was nervous, but they were kind. His mom made kimchi jjigae, his dad asked about braids and culture, and halfway through, Jisoo asked, "Can you braid my hair like yours?"
He didn't want to be me. He just wanted to connect.
That night broke something open. Every Thursday became "family dinner night." They called me Isaac-hyung. His mom bought me Eco Styler gel online. I nearly cried.
Outside, people still stared. But I stopped flinching.
Because my hair isn't the problem.
My hair made a little boy feel wonder. It brought me family. It opened hearts. And in simply being myself, I found something revolutionary.