Vietnam dam project dooms remote mountain town
MUONG LAY - Over the past 15 years, this remote town has lost its original name and half its people. Those left behind know what awaits their homes: submersion beneath Vietnam's largest dam.
By 2010, Muong Lay will be at the bottom of the giant reservoir of a hydropower project to fuel economic growth in cities and industrial parks far away from this northwestern region, one of the country's poorest.
Vietnam's communist leaders have promised to compensate and resettle the 10,000 residents of this bleak town, but for many here, hopes have dimmed like the street lamps that no longer light the main street at night.
For centuries, the waters and alluvial soils of the Da River, also named the Black River, have brought life to this region near the borders of China and Laos, a bumpy 500-kilometre (300-mile) drive from Hanoi.
Now the economic potential of the waterway has spelled its death sentence.
In Vietnam, a poor but fast-growing economy still hobbled by electricity shortages in homes and factories, the 2.6 billion-dollar project promises to help meet national power demand that is now growing by 15 percent a year.
The 215-metre (705-foot) dam wall will create a lake that will swallow 18,000 hectares (45,000 acres) of mountain land and forest, driving turbines that are projected to generate 2,400 megawatts of power by 2015.
The dam will displace 94,741 people, by official count, many from the Hmong, Thai and other ethnic minorities, in the largest resettlement scheme in Vietnam's history.
The state says the people have nothing to fear and has promised them new homes across three provinces, vocational training and compensation including 20 kilograms (53 pounds) of rice per person per month for two years.
"The authorities will provide financial help for those who want to change their livelihood, and each family will receive at least 0.45 hectares of land," said Vo Hong Thanh, who runs the Dien Bien Phu provincial resettlement scheme.
"We will do everything that is necessary."
But on the main street of Muong Lay, the mood swings between scepticism about the government promises and a sense of quiet resignation.
"It is a project of the Vietnamese state, one cannot oppose it," said Nguyen Trung Thanh, a 48-year-old mechanic and father of two, who lives in a clay house by the river bridge here.
"On television they always promise us a beautiful future. But we've heard too many promises and too many nice speeches."
Asked about the relocation scheme, he said: "Nothing has started. We don't have any concrete information."
On the question of where he would like to move his family, he shrugged. "We can't choose. There are no more good places for everyone anyway."
And on the pledge of government aid, he scoffed: "Corruption is inevitable."
The experts say residents have reason to worry.
Thanh and his neighbours have cause to worry, the Vietnam Union of Science and Technology Associations said in a report last year, a summary of which was distributed by the International Rivers Network environmental group.
The study criticised bureaucratic mismanagement and found that many resettled families had so far remained without farm land, basic services, or training to shift from wet rice cultivation to other activities.
Clan and communal structures had been broken and families moved away from their ancestors' graves, the report said. Some people who received cash handouts had used the money to buy motorcycles, alcohol and drugs.
"These households are likely to suffer from future food shortages and may fall back into poverty if no sustainable means of income is found," it said.
The town's slow decline, locals say, started when deadly floods in 1990 and 1996 triggered the first exodus from what was then called Lai Chau.
The floods destroyed a communal centre which has never been rebuilt. Its ruins still stand on the main street as a grim reminder that no one here has believed in the town's future for a long time.
The town lost its ancient name when provincial lines were redrawn in March 2005 and Lai Chau city was officially moved 50 kilometres (30 miles) north, where a vast new provincial capital is now being built.
"Many people have gone, and now it's a desert," said 32-year-old bus driver Hoang Hong Hai. "Only some public services and some shopkeepers have stayed on. The hospital is still open, but all the good doctors have left.
"It is a dead city. We wait, but nothing happens."
One of the last businesses still operating is the Hotel Lan Anh, where the family of 70-year-old Nguyen Khac Giao, a retired provincial justice official, hosts occasional tourists in their 55 rooms set around a small courtyard.
When it's time for his family to move away, said Giao, the government will pay for no more than 25 percent of the cost.
"The compensation offered by the state is not enough," he said. "But there is nothing to discuss. We may disagree, but we have no choice."
"The hotel will be under 16 metres of water. Having to leave here is painful. But we'll stay until the end, until the water comes."
When that day arrives, life will already have changed in nearby Nam Can. Located downriver but above the flood line, the village of 76 White Thai families has been chosen as a resettlement zone.
For now, the families have had to move their traditional stilt houses while bulldozers are carving a muddy plateau the size of several football fields out of the hillside, where 500 families are set to start their new lives.
So far no one is quite sure what they will live off when the village's seven hectares of rice paddies disappear below the waters.
Locals said they have been told to learn animal husbandry, fishing or handicrafts, but that no vocational training had yet started.
"It will be difficult for the peasants to learn new jobs," village chief Lo Van Thoong told AFP, speaking under the watchful gaze of local police and officials.
But he said he knew his people would have little choice.
"If we are asked to grow trees or breed animals, we will do it," he said.
Thanh, the resettlement official, said he had received no complaints so far.
"We are not aware of anyone being disappointed," he said. "We do not have any fundamental problems. According to the reports we receive from the grassroots levels, everyone is happy."
By Didier Lauras - Agence France Presse - January 15, 2007.
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