Boat People SOS
Bayou LaBatre, Alabama
“‘Ok, let’s barbeque at my house, bring your hammers, then we’ll move on to the next house,’ is the attitude of this community.”
Case Manager, Soukphaphone Chanthapaseuth
Soukphaphone's Story
They came to Bayou LaBatre because it felt like home—the Laotian, the Vietnamese, the Cambodians. The Chinese and Japanese too, it turns out. Little Flower Catholic Church brought Soukphaphone Chanthapaseuth and her family to Mobile, Alabama from Laos in 1978. “We wanted to make a better life in the U.S.,” says Chanthapaseuth. She remembers that the Church did not want them to mix with the other Laotians because they wanted them to learn English. Her English has perhaps placed her between 2 cultures, but it has also served her well in helping her people and the other immigrant communities of Bayou LaBatre—particularly in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
Chanthapaseuth grew up in the crab business. Before the Hurricane she had her own crab processing plant with 50 employees. She lost the plant, not in Katrina, but in Hurricane Dennis, which hit a couple of months before Katrina. At that point she went to work for her uncle, whose plant employed 20 people.
Chanthapaseuth and her family didn’t evacuate during Hurricane Katrina—first they all went to her sister’s house, which is on higher ground, then they went to stay 2 blocks away at her uncle’s house, which also survived. However, his crab plant was lost during Katrina. There was nothing left, just a frame. The roof was gone; the steel table and huge steel pots used for production were gone. Devastated by his losses, her uncle returned to California; Chanthapaseuth, on the other hand, stayed where she was and went into construction, helping to re-build Bay St. Louis.
Chanthapaseuth’s husband is a fisherman, and like so many others, he lost his boat in the storm. When she was eventually laid off from construction, she and her husband spent 2 months volunteering for the Red Cross. Then a friend told her that Boat People SOS was looking for a Laotian.
“Life changes a lot,” says Chanthapaseuth, who was used to being her own boss. “Now I have to get used to working for someone else, clocking in and out. I’ve got to learn to adapt again.” Despite the change in her work-day, Chanthapaseuth is not a stranger to helping her community. Her father, always a businessman, was the president of the Laotian association. “My parents were leaders,” she remembers; it was in her heritage to help. For years before the storm people in the community who needed help had already been coming to see Chanthapaseuth: “I’ve been doing this kind of work for free for 10 years, so why not come to work?” she says. “Taxes, immigration, health care; people from as far off as New Orleans and Birmingham, Alabama have my number.” She proudly concludes, “I always felt good about helping even though I didn’t get paid.”
Boat People SOS: Providing support after the storm
The storm was brutal for the fishing community of 2500 in Bayou LaBatre. When they had evacuated for earlier storms their businesses lost money, so this time many people didn’t leave: 70% evacuated; the rest were forced to run when they saw the water begin to rise. It eventually rose 10 feet. No lives were lost, though many people lost everything they had, both their livelihoods and their homes.
Statistics say that 33.3% of the people in Mobile and Bayou LaBatre are Asian immigrants. Most came in the 1980’s, often under bad circumstances. Boat People SOS was founded in 1981 to provide relief and support to Vietnamese refugees and immigrants in their search for freedom and a dignified life.
Chanthapaseuth explains why these immigrants were drawn to the region: “It was like their home towns due to the fishing. It was what they knew about.” The seafood industry prevails to this day. The work is seasonal, lasting from spring to November. It is hard labor, which involves going to work late in the afternoon through the night, or taking a shift that begins at 4 a.m. and ends at 3 p.m. Workers earn approximately $1.80 for a pound of “cleaned” crab. Many of the children help their parents after school.
To respond to the devastation of the storms, Boat People SOS opened a volunteer run office in Bayou LaBatre in October of 2005. The following February, they hired staff to help people deal with FEMA, SBA loans, and provide other basic needs including housing, food, medication, clothes and translation.
“At first the clients saw the sign and came in wanting to know if we fix boats,” Chanthapaseuth remembers. Very quickly the challenges unfolded: 75% of the community had lost their homes and needed furniture and clothes; many had lost their work in the seafood industry, either because the plants were gone or their crab or shrimp boats were ruined. Before the storm there were 20 crab plants; now there are 10 – 12 plants and at least 10 shrimp boats are gone.
In the seafood industry there is no health insurance, so assistance with health care was crucial. Boat People SOS helped sponsor a mobile clinic and began to educate people about the importance of prevention. Chanthapaseuth also found that the Chinese and Japanese populations were in need of help. “There was no one [here] who spoke their language, but we got through with sign language.”
Unlike in many other communities affected by the storm, Chanthapaseuth says Bayou LeBatre received immediate attention from government agencies. “It was different in the Bayou from everything else I heard,” she says. “The government’s response was fast and helpful; FEMA and the Red Cross were here when it happened…after a day or two [more] help was here, including free food and ice, even food stamps. And the community was ready; they helped each other.”
Chanthapaseuth and the other case managers feel good about everyone they have helped, but one family comes to mind for all of them that speaks to their success: “They have 6 kids, rented their home and lost everything. Their house filled with mold and the landlord wouldn’t do anything. They lived in 2 FEMA trailers: the kids in one, the parents in the other. The only job he had is crab production, at night, 6 p.m. to 10 a.m., with no health insurance.” Boat People SOS found them one large trailer and are sorting out their other needs. For everyone, the biggest challenges are getting back to work and finding housing.
Life post-Katrina: The challenges one year later
The case managers are proud that they have built trust in the community, a community that helps each other but can be slow to ask others for help. Together with the volunteers, they now have helped over 200 Vietnamese, 200 Laotian, and 200 Cambodian immigrants. But the case managers agree, they are alarmed by how much everyone lost. “I am still in shock,” says Christy Te, born in Texas of Cambodian origin.
One year later, the organization still has many clients with housing problems who also need help with health care and free child care, especially at night (when many parents work). But they are also able to look at the bigger picture of people’s lives. There are many requests for English classes and skills for “real jobs.” Soon there will be ESL, computer, and GED classes, along with programs to teach interview skills. “The room is not even set up, but people keep coming in and asking when the courses will begin,” says Chanthapaseuth. The organization also teaches the community about finance, taxes, and borrowing money.
Immigration and citizenship are major issues for many of their clients. There are people who have been in the country for 20 years and still are not citizens, for a number of reasons--among them, the $400 application fee and the required trip to New Orleans or Atlanta for fingerprinting, followed by a later trip back to take the citizenship test. Unsurprisingly, many people fail to make it through all those steps. Boat People SOS works to smooth the process by helping with translation of forms, fees, and test preparations.
Boat People SOS’ latest effort on behalf of their constituents was motivated by learning that the women were not taking adequate steps to protect their own health. “In the Asian community it is hard to get women to have pap smears or check their breasts. They don’t have the money, and think it won’t happen to them,” Chanthapaseuth says. “So we are starting women’s groups, to encourage them to seek preventative health care and to build strength financially for single mothers, [so that they can] be role-models for the kids and the men.” Currently, they have 30 women who have joined up in the Mobile/ Bayou LaBatre area, and they also have women interested in Biloxi. “Our aim is to meet once a month,” Chanthapaseuth explains. “The women are mostly 30 to 40, but go up to age 60. We are planning a fall health festival.”
A year later the case managers still find it hard to process what happened to their community. Te remarks, “I keep running into friends who have lost everything.” But it is their way as a people to move ahead. “Like at home,” they note, “everyone helps everyone else re-build.” Chanthapaseuth describes the “can do” approach of her community this way: “Ok, let’s barbeque at my house… Bring your hammers, then we’ll move on to the next house.”
Women empowered
“Most people don’t think Asian women will fight for their rights, says Chanthapaseuth, “but I will fight. We do what it takes to help. We don’t turn away easily, we are determined.”
“Even if it means calling D.C. or writing Congress,” adds Te.
The staff is struck by how many of their clients are women these days. They believe it is “easier for the women to approach us as we’re woman who look like them.” Chanthapaseuth is quick hit again upon the strength of these women: “They’re the ones doing what it takes to get things done. The men are quieter.”
There are some single-headed households in the community, but in many cases, even in married couples, the women are more comfortable seeking help. “It has been the women who come in and do the intake,” Chanthapaseuth observes. “The woman is more often the head of the household in Laos; in Vietnam it is the men. But when they get to the U.S., the women seem empowered, perhaps because the men and women are working equally, each making the same amount of money.” Chanthapaseuth concludes, “In Asia, in general, it’s more ‘You listen to your husband.’ Even [with] my parents, my mother was more deferential in Laos; we got to the US and that changed.”
Bayou LaBatre is home for a people used to adapting
Each case manager has a strong sense that Bayou LaBatre and the surrounding area is home, for them and for their clients. The fallout of the storm won’t deter them. “The people on the bayous adapted,” Chanthapaseuth observes, “they were used to having nothing before Katrina, and used to helping each other build back up. That is what they would do at home [in Asia].”
Te, who was born in the U.S. of Cambodian parents, explains why she returned to Bayou LeBatre after leaving for college in Nashville: “I wanted to come back to Bayou LaBatre to be grounded. This is home—people work really hard here. I felt like I was really lucky: my parents sacrificed for me. I want to give something back to the community.”
Ms. Foundation funding to support a voice for Asian women
The Ms. Foundation funding will assist Boat People SOS with their post-Katrina efforts. Understanding the lead role that women play in any effort to rebuild families and homes, BPSOS is developing a Women’s Group in Biloxi, MS and in Houston, TX, in order to determine the physical and mental health needs of families affected by Hurricane Katrina. The overall goal of the Women’s Groups will be to help displaced women overcome the barriers of language and culture, achieve a voice in the community through organizing and advocacy, and add a leadership component to their efforts of rebuilding their communities, one family at a time.
Laotians and Cambodians tend to work in the crab and oyster industry, along with the Vietnamese, who are also shrimpers. “[The Vietnamese] buy the boats because they are better at saving money,” remarks Chanthapaseuth. A shrimp boat with a freezer might be out at sea for 30 days at a time, otherwise they are out for 3 days. The Vietnamese case manager, Trang Truong, adds, “my uncle lost his boat and he will never get one again (they are so expensive).”
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