By Mai Nguyen
When I felt called to work in immigration law, I did not understand the depth of such calling. Two and a half years later, I found myself in Vietnam and Cambodia doing advocacy work to help the stateless ethnic Vietnamese communities living in Cambodia. According to the 1954 Convention Relating to the Status of Stateless Persons, a stateless person is one “who is not considered as a national by any State under the operation of its law.” In other words, stateless people have no citizenship. Practically, it means these individuals do not have access to documentation of vital statistic information (e.g. birth, marriage, death, etc.), voting rights, healthcare, education, employment, or property ownership. And such is the very fate of the ethnic Vietnamese living in Cambodia right now. In simpler terms, a stateless person does not exist under the eye of the law – they have no place to call “home.”
This summer, the Regent University Center for Global Justice graciously funded my internship placement in Vietnam and Cambodia to do some fieldwork visiting these communities as well as doing advocacy work to eventually help them secure a citizenship, whether Vietnamese or Cambodian. The internship so far has been an eye-opening and also heart-wrenching experience. Prior to the in-country internship placement, I helped my site supervisor, a leading scholar and fieldworker in this line of work, to compile a resource guide. The guide consists of research commenting on the lives of these communities from various perspectives (e.g., law, social sciences, history, politics, etc.), altogether highlighting the dire need to fight for their right to have a nationality (Universal Declaration of Human Rights – Article 15: “Everyone has the right to a nationality”). This first blog post will briefly introduce who these people are and their current living conditions as observed in my field trip (the exact location is hidden for the people’s protection).
Who are They?
The term “ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia” (“EVC”) refers to the stateless ethnic Vietnamese communities living in Cambodia, alongside the Tonle sap lake and rivers. These people have lived in Cambodia for at least 3-4 generations – some, even for 7 generations. The EVCs are different from present-day Vietnamese nationals coming to Cambodia for education, work, and/or investment. Most modern-day Vietnamese international students and Vietnamese investors in Cambodia presently hold Vietnamese citizenship and possess valid identity documents, such as birth certificates and passports. They rarely encounter issues when applying for visas to Cambodia or, later, for Cambodian citizenship, if desired.
Living Conditions: Then and Now
For many years, these EVC communities live on floating homes; the houses can stay afloat thanks to the support of empty barrels attached underneath and stay standing because of bamboo poles. They manage to have houses on the water because, under Cambodian law, bodies of water are not real property. Many make a living by fishing and selling fish at traditional markets. You can see more photos here. Before I came, I couldn’t imagine a life entirely on water. How can they survive with such instability? What happens in times of flood and storms? What about children’s safety? During my Torts II class, Professor Hensler advised something along this line, “If your house has a swimming pool, treat the swimming pool like a tiger and protect children, especially toddlers, from it at all costs.” If that’s the case, these EVCs must be living with a herd of lions.
Once I came, the living situation of the people had already changed quite drastically. On the one hand, most of them are now on land, but is that truly for the better? A few years ago, the Cambodian government started a mass eviction campaign, forcing the EVCs out of their floating homes and onto land, citing “water pollution” concerns, among other reasons. Simultaneously, all got their legal documents confiscated, and those who managed to get Cambodian citizenship and/or identity documents (e.g. birth, marriage, death certificates, etc.) from prior government regimes also got their citizenship revoked, on the ground of “improper issuance.” As a result, many now have moved onto land, namely communities in the provinces of Kampong Chhnang (Chhnok Tru, Chong Koh, Kandal, Kampong Prasat, Ta Ches, and Roleab’aer villages), Phnom Penh (Chbar Ampov, Chak Angre Krom, Russey Keo, Prek Pnov, Chruoy Changva, and Meanchey districts), and Kandal (Kien Svay district). Those living in other provinces, such as in Kampong Khleang and Kampong Luong, face eviction threats and are extremely concerned for life on land. Houses on water have their own instability, but for many, that’s the only form of living they’ve ever known for generations. Furthermore, with little governmental relocation assistance, their fate on land is even dimmer than that on the unforgiving water. In fact, those who have been evicted are still living in very harsh conditions.
Employment
Without citizenship, the EVCs cannot obtain formal employment (e.g., work in a factory, company, etc.) but can only work jobs that pay with cash and do not require an education background. As most have worked as fishermen and/or selling food on the water for years, they must now adapt. A 38-year-old woman shared, “I’ve lived here for 3 generations, and for all three, we catch fish for a living. We sell them at the local market. Now, they moved us onto land so far away from the water. I cannot do anything. Just last week, I took on the job of cooking for a wedding to earn some cash but then got bitten by a scorpion. I used all that money and more to pay for my medical bills.” When asked what else she did to make money, she said, “I miss the water so much. So, sometimes I go down there and make noodle soups to sell. I work from 3am to 5pm and make about $2 USD a day.” For most, their income is barely enough to put food on the table, much less affording rent.
Accommodation
During eviction, many have transported their houses from the water onto land. They erected the houses with poles to prevent drowning during flooding season. Most still keep their boats to move around when the water rises. When I took the photo on the upper right corner, I noticed that the water mark on the pole almost surpassed the house’s height. Naturally, I asked how people sleep on days like that. One answered, “Well, we sleep on the roof or on the boat. If the water has not reached the roof, we move our furniture up here, or else it will all get wet.” It was heartbreaking to know that is the normalcy of their lives.
Without citizenship, the EVCs cannot own personal property, let alone real property. Post-eviction, the EVCs spread out and live on state-owned land or private land. For those lucky enough to be allowed on state-owned land, they still face instability as the government only grants them one-year right of occupancy at a time. They have no other rights to the land, such as the right to cultivation. One shared, “Our houses could really use some shade. I wish I could at least grow some vegetables to eat at home. We need to save money.” This summer is very dry, and with the heatwave hitting Southeast Asia, it was extremely hot. For those living on private land, they either rent or “own.” If there’s a Cambodian relative or family member (e.g., spouse), the family usually uses the Cambodian person’s document to secure title to the land. The same goes for personal property, such as mopeds. While this helps some avoid paying rent, the EVCs still do not actually “own” the property and usually lose access to the property if the relationship goes sour.
Others who could not tolerate life on land go back to the water. They either have to bribe the authorities to let them stay there temporarily or flee when spotted. They live in ad-hoc floating structures; the houses no longer have proper roofs. One said, “If I don’t catch fish, I don’t know what else to do. My husband tried to work in a banana plantation in a different province, but the work pays little, and we could not afford to pay rent in both places. So, we now return here to catch fish. But there are not as many fish anymore to catch. When can our lives be less harsh?”
When our team was about to leave, the sky turned dark, and we could see a big storm coming. I moved my feet as quickly as I could to make it to the car before the pouring rain arrived while trying to take a few more photos. I wonder what those people would do once the rain came and flooded where they were.
Amidst the rather depressing situation, God still found a way to comfort my very much troubling heart. On the last day of the field trip, I visited another community living on a piece of private property bought for them by a church. The church received donations from Vietnamese families in Vietnam and the U.S., enough to purchase a plot of land. Currently, there are about 100 families living on the land – the houses are packed like sardines to optimize the land’s size. The head of the community shared, “We are extremely thankful to the donors for this place. We can at least live without fear of eviction. The church was kind enough to not charge us any rent. We just pay for utilities. For once, we have somewhat a stable living situation. Starting this year, each household is asked to contribute a bit to maintain a community fund. The fund is used to help with burial costs for poor families that cannot afford to have a funeral for their loved ones. We also use the money to help those extremely in need with medical bills and/or other needs. We don’t have much, but at least we can give some to those who have even less.” His statement reminded me of the story of the widow’s offering (Mark 12:43-44 reads, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on”).
Hopes, Dreams, and Desires
When asked what their hopes and dreams are, a lady shared, “We want education for our children. We are old now. We can die stateless and uneducated, but the kids have their whole lives ahead. Next is a safe and stable place to live. Even birds have nests, yet I cannot provide my children a place to call home!” The last sentence brought me to tears because I was reminded of Matthew 8:20, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head.” This Bible verse kept coming to my mind when I was debating whether to write about these communities in my Student Note, and I ended up giving my Student Note the following title: “Foxes Have Dens: Inaccessibility of Birth Registration and Stateless Ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia.” It was probably not a coincidence. In the next blog post, I will discuss the legal status of the communities and its implication on the EVC children’s rights to healthcare, education, and employment.
This post was written by a student at Regent University School of Law. The views expressed in this post do not necessarily reflect those of Regent University, Regent Law School, or the Center for Global Justice.