Showing posts with label Louisiana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louisiana. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Gulf oil spill: Cambodian cleanup workers speak out


June 8, 2010
Los Angeles Times (California, USA)

Sachi Cunningham, a Los Angeles Times videographer, has shot a remarkable nine-minute video on the lives of Cambodian fishermen hired to clean up BP’s massive oil spill. This vivid tale unfolded over the course of a week at sea in the Gulf of Mexico and at port in Louisiana (see above).

Cunningham delved into the subject after attending a meeting of concerned Vietnamese and Cambodian fishermen in Buras, La., a remote bayou community that is home to about 2,000 Southeast Asian immigrants.

Phan Plork, a 42-year-old shrimper who is featured in the video, was in charge of 15 boats that left from Venice, La., 17 days after the April 20 explosion of the Deepwater Horizon drilling rig.

After the first night at sea, 11 of the boats returned to Buras to wait out a storm (the others waited at sea). The shrimp boats are built to work in the bay rather than in open water, where the bulk of the spilled oil is located. As a result, Plork and his fleet spent much of their time waiting out bad weather or waiting to get refueled.

Frustrations abounded.

"We spent an entire day at dock in Empire, La., waiting for BP to wire money to a gas station, only to learn at the end of the day that they would instead have to refuel in Venice," Cunningham said.

In Buras, Cunningham met Neng Pum, who lives on a boat with her boyfriend. Neng introduced her to Rithy Om, another a Cambodian refugee, whose son and daughter-in-law had moved to Buras from San Diego with their two young sons in order to shrimp this season. Instead, like their neighbor Phan, they are out in the gulf cleaning up BP's oil.

"I wanted to share all of their stories but focused on Phan since he was a leader in the Cambodian community and was among the first to get out to sea," Cunningham says. "After 11 days of work, the six bags of partially oil-soaked booms that you see in the video are all that Phan and his boat collected."

Later, she caught up with Tommy Berthelot, a longtime shrimper who was part of Phan's fleet and appears in the video during his last break. Berthelot told Cunningham that once their collecting technique improved, they were pulling in two or three times as much oil, but the video illustrated how difficult the task is.

"We don't know anything about cleaning up oil until yesterday," Phan says in the video. Phan would have started the season in May, bringing in enough money to support his wife, five children and granddaughter. Instead, he is getting paid half the amount for an unknown period of time.

But Phan knows this is "a take-it-or-leave-it deal" and will do what he needs to in order to make money while shrimping is prohibited.

Last week, Phan was near Pensacola, Fla., cleaning up the spill. His wife, Tal, did not know when he would be home next but said they were away for weeks at a time.

"Every day I just pray for everybody," says Tal, who worries about the safety of her husband and the other fishermen. No one know what the health effects of the spill will be for workers such as Phan.

Mike Berthelot, Tommy's father, is upset that so many boats were still waiting to get called to work on the cleanup rather than bringing in shrimp.

"It won't recover in my lifetime," Berthelot told Cunningham. "This is the beginning of the end."

-- Margot Roosevelt

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

They've struck oil, but they're not rich

Video by Sachi Cunningham
Los Angeles Times

Shrimping was Phan Plork's passion, and his livelihood ­until an oil gusher fouled the waters off the Louisiana coast. Now, Plork, 42, a Cambodian refugee, goes out on the Gulf of Mexico to lay boom as part of the cleanup effort. BP pays $1,500 a day for his boat and crew, half what he made before. "I'd rather shrimp," he said. "The sooner the better."

Click the following link to watch the video:

Video: They've struck oil, but they're not rich - latimes.com

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Vietnamese, Cambodian fishermen among hardest hit by BP oil spill

Local shrimper Can Van Nguyen sits as local Vietnamese and Cambodian fishermen try to get information at the China Sea Restaurant in Buras, Louisiana. Local translators came to the meeting to help with the language barrier. (Sean Gardner/Reuters)

Many Vietnamese and Cambodia fishermen are without work now because of the BP oil spill, and some still feel the effects of Hurricane Katrina. BP is trying to help, but there's a language barrier.

May 8, 2010
By Bill Sasser, Correspondent
The Christian Science Monitor


Buras, Louisiana — While the Deepwater Horizon oil spill has idled hundreds of fishing boats in coastal Louisiana, the disaster has hit the close knit community of Vietnamese and Cambodian shrimpers in Plaquemines Parish particularly hard.

“I don’t know how I’m going to pay my car insurance,” Cung “Kim” Tran, a deckhand on a commercial fishing boat, declared at a community meeting Thursday at the China Sea Restaurant in the town of Buras. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay the note on my car or my house. Can you tell me what to do?”

Attended by BP representatives, parish officials, a regional United Way director, and over a hundred local fishermen, the meeting was called by Spencer Aronfeld, a personal injury and malpractice lawyer from Miami, Florida, who arrived in the parish earlier in the week.

“When I read in the news about the contracts BP asked residents to sign before they went to work, I couldn’t stand by and let that happen,” said Mr. Aronfeld. “I felt obligated to help. I contacted BP myself and brought in the United Way and said we need to have a meeting and start feeding people.”

The contract Aronfeld referred to was a liability waiver local residents were asked to sign to enroll in safety and hazardous materials handling courses, required by BP for paid jobs containing and cleaning up the oil spill. The waiver caused much distrust and confusion in Plaquemines Parish. Many thought they would be signing away their rights to file claims over the spill, and the form was soon dropped.

Communication with Vietnamese and Cambodian fishermen in the parish has been particularly difficult for the oil company. While BP has translators on hand at most meetings, an early version of the waivers were written in English only.

Language barrier
“I don’t see how in good conscience BP could ask immigrants who do not speak English to sign away their rights with a contract written only in English, particularly for work as dangerous as this,” said Aronfeld.

Aronfeld, who went on local radio to publicize the meeting, is among dozens of lawyers who have come to south Louisiana since the oil well disaster started.

Earlier this week, a federal judicial panel in Washington was asked to consolidate at least 65 potential class-action lawsuits that claim economic damage from the spill. Fishermen, charter boat captains, business owners, and vacationers filed suit across the Gulf coast seeking damages that could reach into the billions.

While local television and radio is filled with advertisements by attorneys seeking clients affected by the spill, Aronfeld has taken on the role of grassroots organizer among the Asian immigrants of Plaquemines Parish.

“It pains me to see how they are living, with many people still in FEMA trailers from Katrina,” he said. “They are a proud people and have endured a lot, but they are suffering now and need to be taken care of. I’m not sure I’m working as an attorney or as a civil rights activist.”

BP apologized...again
At the community meeting in Buras, grandmothers held babies and fishermen stood impatiently in rubber work boots as David Kinnaird, community outreach spokesman for BP, made another apology for any confusion BP caused with the liability waivers.

“We recognize we’ve been having problems communicating with people in this parish and I’m here to make sure that everyone is heard and listened to,” said Kinnaird, his presentation translated into Vietnamese and Cambodian by two local residents.

Parish officials and United Way representative also provided locations in the parish where charities are distributing food, announced that a local Methodist church will soon be handing out $100 checks to out-of-work families, and announced the establishment of a United Way effort to help local fishermen.

The room remained silent when they were asked if anyone present was worried about eating that night, but anger quickly flashed at Aronfeld, who started a question and answer period by admonishing local residents against hostility, shouting, or threats about lawsuits or claims.

“We are normal people! We are not animals! Talk to us like we are human beings!” one obviously upset fisherman shouted at Aronfeld, who profusely apologized.

Despite repeated promises by BP to quickly help fisherman in the region, many at the meeting complained of being caught in a Catch-22 of bureaucracy: BP is only accepting claims of economic loss from boat owners, not deckhands, and the company’s Vessel of Opportunity employing boatmen to fight the oil spill is only hiring fisherman who can prove their local residency.

Many Asian immigrants who have worked in Plaquemines for decades do not own their own boats. Many also moved to New Orleans after losing their homes to Hurricane Katrina, but still return to Plaquemines everyday to work.

Katrina's lasting impact
“Since Katrina there is no school here for our kids, so we had to move to New Orleans,” said shrimper Houston Le, 40. “But I still come here every day, even now with the fishing closed I am coming, but BP says it is only hiring people they say live in Plaquemines.”

BP spokesperson Kinnaird said he would get answers, and referred residents to BP’s phone number for claims, pointing out that translators are available on the toll-free line. Thoai Tong, a fisherman who is acting as an interpreter for Aronfeld, estimated that out of the 3,000 immigrants from Southeast Asia living and working in Plaquemines, about ten percent are fluent in English.

“When you say to them ‘BP gives you an opportunity,’ they say ‘what is opportunity?’” says Tong, who came to the U.S. in 1980 from a refugee camp in Thailand, when he was 2 years old.

Many of the fisherman work out of the nearby Buras marina, where their boats rock idly. “My boat is my house, my life, right here,” said Toan Nguyen said from the deck of his shrimp boat. “There’s no oil here but they won’t let us fish.”

When the wholesale price of shrimp dropped to 50 cents a pound last season, Nguyen and other shrimpers went on a strike, which had little effect due to a flood of cheap Asian imports. With rumors of price collusion among wholesalers, state officials had promised fishermen better prices this year, but the season was canceled before it started because of the spill.

“Last year a lot of people went broke, so this year everyone was counting on this season to make some money,” said Nguyen.

Nearly five years after Katrina, Buras remains an isolated community with no doctor, no school, no pharmacy, and no grocery store. After the hurricane, the local diocese closed the Catholic church many in the Asian community had attended.

“If this continues with the fishing being closed, everyone will have to move to New Orleans and on one will be left down here,” said interpreter Tong, who is still waiting for his Road Home grant to rebuild his house in Buras, boarded up since the 2005 storm.

Plenty of lawyers
While the Vietnamese and Cambodian fishermen are having trouble communicating with BP, they are having no problems finding lawyers to talk with.

“They come here and go to meetings and drive around and walk up and asking you if they need a lawyer to represent you,” said Tong. “Spencer is a lawyer and we want to see him actually helping the community, and then maybe we will sign up with him.”

The area has previous experience with litigation over smaller oil spills. During Hurricane Katrina, nearly a million gallons of oil spilled from ruptured pipelines in nearby Empire, Louisiana, an incident that became part of a larger class action lawsuit.

“Many people signed papers with lawyers and they’ve never heard anything back,” Tong recalls. “You ask them who their lawyer is and they don’t know, they don’t even have a card. You ask them why they signed up and they say ‘well, everyone else was signing up.’”

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Cambodian-Americans ordeal from Gustav hurricane

Hurricane Gustav prompts Louisiana couple to take flight -- again

Shrimpers Neang Pum and Sobong In fled Cambodia and survived Hurricane Katrina. Now they're forced to leave the boat they call home, with little gas and no place to go.

September 2, 2008
By Erika Hayasaki
Los Angeles Times Staff Writer


JENNINGS, LA. -- They left the shrimp boat in which they work and live on the Louisiana shore, driving north at noon, daring the hurricane in their red Ford Expedition.

They were running on a tank of gas, and there were no stations open for miles.

Neang Pum, 66, and her boyfriend, Sobong In, 69, came to the United States as Cambodian refugees more than two decades ago. On Monday, they fled Hurricane Gustav -- which sent palm fronds flying, trees toppling and waves of water across the highway before them.

Pum and In had moved into a Federal Emergency Management Agency trailer after Hurricane Katrina three years ago, but the government recently took that home away. So the couple were living in the shrimp boat in Empire, La.

Pum said they hadn't had enough money to evacuate ahead of Gustav, so they decided to ride it out. But as the hurricane crashed along the coast Monday, rocking their boat with terrifying power, the couple decided to head to Lafayette, La., 200 miles away, where they had a friend with food and water to share.

"The hurricane was getting angry," Pum said. "My friend said, 'You must go; you will die.' "

The couple loaded the SUV with a pink flowered pillow, a striped burgundy blanket, a carton of ramen noodles, $40 in cash and their black-and- orange dog, Lucky Boy.

But by 4 p.m., the winds and rain on Interstate 10 had become so severe that they pulled up across the street from the Jennings Travel Center -- home to a casino, restaurant and truckers rest stop -- and hoped police would stop to help them.

Their gas was running dangerously low.

At the travel center, which was boarded up with strips of plywood, its gas pumps wrapped in plastic tarps, a man and woman with guns waved people away. Selina Landry, 43, a security guard in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with a pistol under her arm, had been charged with keeping looters away from the store. She brought her 20-year-old son, his wife and their 6-month-old daughter along. They had spent the night in the warehouse-shaped building, along with three other security guards and their families.

As rain swirled and wind whipped outside the building, children slept on black sofas and watched "Hannah Montana" while the adults monitored weather reports.

Walking toward the sandbags that lined the front of the store -- near the zebra-print purses, popcorn balls, straw cowboy hats and bottles of hot sauce -- Landry said: "We're not scared one bit; we're cautious."

The guards and their families planned to hide in a cooler if the storm got worse, she added. "We're respectful of the storm."

Across the street, Pum and In could not find anyone to help them.

The couple were at least an hour from Lafayette -- where one person has been reported killed by a falling tree -- and the winds were pushing 80 mph. Through the foggy windows of their SUV, Pum and In watched the covering on a four-story yellow building flap in the wind.

"Maybe I should stay here and wait until it opens for gas," said In, looking at the shuttered station across the street as fierce gusts rocked the Expedition from side to side. He braced the steering wheel with his tanned, weathered hands, with dirt underneath his fingernails from shrimping.

"No," Pum told him. "It's not open today."

Barefoot and wearing a green jade bracelet, Pum looked away, shaking her head. Lucky Boy jumped into the back seat, whimpering near an American flag, a cooler and a beach towel.

"I don't have gasoline," she said, "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared."

After an hour, with the wind still screaming, the couple decided to keep driving.