an open yet binding sea
I took a day-tour of several islands near Nha Trang in the beginning of my trip. Although the trip was quite short, I had the privilege of meeting many interesting souls: a woman from England who is visually impaired, has worked in Hue at an NGO the past six years, and speaks fluent Vietnamese; a Chinese couple from Germany, who were born, raised, and worked in Laos for over 30 years, and able to speak Mandarin, Lao, Vietnamese, German, and English; a family of seven from the Mekong Delta, including three adventurous sisters. Another person, who left a particularly strong impression with me was our tour guide, L.
With four generations making their living as fishermen, L’s mother was adamant that he would not follow in the same footsteps due to the precariousness of the seasonal harvest and the unknown lurking in the deep sea. As a single mother, she did not want her first child and only son to experience the same instability of working in the sea that generations past had experienced. Instead of being a fisherman, he became a tour guide, venturing from one island to the next with the open sea as his unconventional office space. In these waters, he finds solace, adventure, connection, and contentment.
After the tour ended, I went to the beach to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight. L joined me later.
Overlooking the horizon, he pondered.
“Do you see the big resort on resort on that island? The selection of the resort staff is very selective. They get paid much higher than we get as tour guides. They start easily with 3 million VND a month (~150 USD), while we make only 1.5 million VND. But I don’t want their job. There is no stability in that job; they usually only get to work for a year, then the hotel managers could recruit and train a new cohort again. The hotel management does that so it doesn’t have to offer benefits that a regular contract would include.”
I know that staying at that resort costs hundreds of dollars a night.
He then talked about how much he enjoyed working with his colleagues. There is a team of seven people per boat, so they know each others’ quirks, as well as strengths and weaknesses of one another to fill in for each other.
There has been a lot of discussions among political elites and business players to develop Nha Trang into a city—like HCMC, Hanoi, and Da Nang—directly under the jurisdiction of the central government, not the provincial government, which is its current status, L shared. As a city evolves and grows, it has to be attuned to the different needs that would arise due to the changing political, social, and economic climate.
L is very keen about the conditions that his community faces, the disparity in terms of what workers get, what and how outside developers profit, and the salient issues that are by-products of tourism. He hesitated a bit when I asked him what are some major social issues he sees here before stating prostitution. He spoke of the incredibly high prevalence coupling between Vietnamese women and white men here. He had seen a lot of unequal and exploitative relationships, but he also had to remain mum as a tour guide.
Despite his incisive understanding, he also possesses a matter-of-fact attitude about these conditions. That acceptance, however, could also be seen as resilience. Given these circumstances and conditions, what can he do to support his mother and sister? Outrage certainly won’t feed anyone in the most immediate way. Low-wage earners here face urgent problems daily, in which intellectual inquiries and lofty ideals cannot be the cure-all antidote.
“As Nha Trang seeks to be a more developed city, are the wishes of the community being considered?,” I asked L.
“Well, whatever tourists want, for example, if they have certain requests to have more resorts, or if they demand something else, then we will try our best to accommodate them,” he responded.
I pressed, “but I mean, what about the wishes and aspirations of people who actually live in Nha Trang?”
L paused, “oh, our main interest is economic. If the demands of tourists open up opportunities for us to work, to make money, to support our family, then we will do our best to satisfy them.”
In these same waters—where he finds comfort and craves adventure—he moves with the natural ebb and flow of the sea, yet he is also bound to the whims of tourists and exploitation of developers.
