Evicted Residents Struggle for Survival at Dangkao Relocation Site
By Thet Sambath and Elizabeth Tomei
THE CAMBODIA DAILY
Chan Rithy and his three children were evicted from central Phnom Penh in June to the squalid and impoverished Andoung Thmei relocation site on the outskirts of the city in Dangkao district.
Chan Rithy's wife stayed behind to sell fruit from a cart on the streets of Phnom Penh.
"If [my wife] came with me, we could not survive," the 39-year-old said. "Since the eviction [our lives] have been disrupted."
Lack of employment is straining many of the more than 1,800 evicted families who are now attempting to establish themselves amongst the thatched huts and tarp shelters of Andoung Thmei.
Money is on everyone's mind in this crowded, virtually jobless community.
There are a few food vendors, a barber and a mechanic, but customers are scarce and this stranded, almost forgotten community is heavily dependent on food donations from aid groups and the small amounts of money sent by relatives working in Phnom Penh.
At Tonle Bassac commune in central Phnom Penh, Cham Phon, 66, earned $.75 to $1.25 every day selling cakes. But at Andoung Thmei, she is dependent on her son, who manages to send $2.50 to $5 each week from the capital which he earns as a construction worker.
"Here I make nothing. Even if I were to sell something, no one would buy it," she said, adding that she is raising her son's two children, aged four and six, while he works in the city.
Ny Uk, a mother of four, lives with her mother and two of her children at the relocation site on a piece of land that she calls her "future."
Her husband, who still lives in Phnom Penh with their other two children, visits the relocation site once each week to deliver money he earns as a construction worker. Two of her sons, who live at the relocation site and are aged nine and 14, no longer go to school since they were evicted from the city. Instead, they stay at home to help care for their ailing grandmother.
Families who have stuck together at the new site wonder how they will support themselves in the long term. When supplies of donated rice run out, Nuon Ho, 49, sometimes begs for rice at neighboring villages so that his family of eight doesn't go hungry.
Nuon Ho used to make around $2 each day selling vegetables that he grew in Phnom Penh. On top of that his children each brought in $.75 to $1 working odd jobs after school.
"Now I have nothing to do.... For six months my family's living situation has deteriorated," Nuon Ho said.
But one business, operated out of a tiny, tarp-covered lean-to, is doing relatively well.
Buy Ra, 30, says he runs the only betting parlor in Andoung Thmei, where villagers collectively place $25 worth of bets every day.
Still, Buy Ra says, the size of the individual bets reflects the village's meager economy.
"[Most people bet] $.03 or $.05 each. It's not like in Phnom Penh," he said.
Chan Rithy's wife stayed behind to sell fruit from a cart on the streets of Phnom Penh.
"If [my wife] came with me, we could not survive," the 39-year-old said. "Since the eviction [our lives] have been disrupted."
Lack of employment is straining many of the more than 1,800 evicted families who are now attempting to establish themselves amongst the thatched huts and tarp shelters of Andoung Thmei.
Money is on everyone's mind in this crowded, virtually jobless community.
There are a few food vendors, a barber and a mechanic, but customers are scarce and this stranded, almost forgotten community is heavily dependent on food donations from aid groups and the small amounts of money sent by relatives working in Phnom Penh.
At Tonle Bassac commune in central Phnom Penh, Cham Phon, 66, earned $.75 to $1.25 every day selling cakes. But at Andoung Thmei, she is dependent on her son, who manages to send $2.50 to $5 each week from the capital which he earns as a construction worker.
"Here I make nothing. Even if I were to sell something, no one would buy it," she said, adding that she is raising her son's two children, aged four and six, while he works in the city.
Ny Uk, a mother of four, lives with her mother and two of her children at the relocation site on a piece of land that she calls her "future."
Her husband, who still lives in Phnom Penh with their other two children, visits the relocation site once each week to deliver money he earns as a construction worker. Two of her sons, who live at the relocation site and are aged nine and 14, no longer go to school since they were evicted from the city. Instead, they stay at home to help care for their ailing grandmother.
Families who have stuck together at the new site wonder how they will support themselves in the long term. When supplies of donated rice run out, Nuon Ho, 49, sometimes begs for rice at neighboring villages so that his family of eight doesn't go hungry.
Nuon Ho used to make around $2 each day selling vegetables that he grew in Phnom Penh. On top of that his children each brought in $.75 to $1 working odd jobs after school.
"Now I have nothing to do.... For six months my family's living situation has deteriorated," Nuon Ho said.
But one business, operated out of a tiny, tarp-covered lean-to, is doing relatively well.
Buy Ra, 30, says he runs the only betting parlor in Andoung Thmei, where villagers collectively place $25 worth of bets every day.
Still, Buy Ra says, the size of the individual bets reflects the village's meager economy.
"[Most people bet] $.03 or $.05 each. It's not like in Phnom Penh," he said.
1 comment:
If Cambodia is a true democratic country according to AH HUN SEN then Cambodian people must have a fucken choice!
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