away from the oppressive military rule at home.
Ranong's official population is a little over 90,000, but aid workers and locals estimate there are around 200,000 Myanmar migrants, excluding those working in plantations across the province, that have settled here.
Checkpoints have been set up in the lush town to ensure that Myanmar migrants -- most of whom are not allowed to leave Ranong -- remain within it.
The imprint of the migrants is clearly visible with signs in Myanmar plastering everything from gold shops and stores selling electronics to beauty parlours and advertisements for phone cards. Passengers on the bus converse in Myanmar. Women in traditional Myanmar attire walk on the street and the hectic daily fish market is full of Myanmar workers buying, selling and processing all manner of seafood.
"If you see people walking or on a bicycle, most likely they are Burmese because they can't afford to go by any other means," a Myanmar aid worker told me, calling the people by its former name.
Almost all of them have come by illegal routes, usually on a cargo boat, running away from a harsh regime that has discriminated, abused and exploited them. What was once a rich country has now become one of the poorest in Southeast Asia.
TENSION RISING
As with any place that has a large migrant population, there is a palpable sense of tension between the hosts and the guests.
A few weeks ago, the government scrapped plans to grant driving licenses to migrants when some 200 motorcyclists protested. They were worried migrant workers would steal their jobs and smuggle drugs or more illegal workers if allowed to drive, local reports said, even though the licenses were for private use.
A foreign aid worker who has lived in Ranong for a few years recounted a recent incident in which a Myanmar migrant was beaten to death after a motorcycle accident involving a Thai resident.
Migrant workers are also vulnerable to police extortion and arrest and the tension translates into the workplace as well.
Most migrants in Ranong are ethnic minorities from southern Myanmar with little or no education and they end up doing low-paid, menial jobs in the fishing and seafood processing industries where the demand for cheap labour is high.
Many earn between 100 and 200 baht ($3 to $6) a day. The lucky ones receive work permits applied for them by their owners -- although they have to pay for it themselves -- but rarely get to see the documentation.
Some like construction worker Aung are more philosophical.
"We can't blame the owners for being tough because there are many bad migrants as well," he told me. "We know people who would get their work permit and borrow money from owners and then run away to Bangkok or central Thailand."
STATELESS AND IN DEBT
Some are also stateless, which means they are not registered as citizens of Myanmar. Often this is because they live in remote areas or they belong to an ethnic minority that has angered the military junta.
Then there are kids who were born in Ranong to migrant parents, but have no birth certificate or documentation to show they are Myanmar nationals.
I met one, a playful four-year-old, in a crumbling building some 30 Myanmar families call home. His mother, Myat, comes from an island in Mon state and gave birth to her three children in Ranong. While her husband works on a fishing boat, she makes ends meet collecting mussels. Their combined income is around $150 per month.
"There's never enough money to spend, let alone save," she said. "I have a debt of about 6,000 baht ($150) at 20 percent interest."
They live on the ground floor of a dilapidated three-storey building patched together with corrugated iron sheets and bits of wood, for which she has to pay $30 a month. The wooden beams in their old bedroom had become so worn out it's a safety hazard, so the whole family live, cook, eat and sleep in a five-metre-square room.
I asked her why she hasn't moved out to a better place.
"I've been staying here for 14 years and the owner is good and flexible," she said. "I owe eight months' rent but he hasn't thrown us out yet. Other places won't tolerate this."
For Myat and her stateless children, this squalor is better than being in Myanmar where the living is even harder.
"It's actually easier to make money here. I have to live where it's suitable for the family even if I'm not happy," she said.
Ranong's official population is a little over 90,000, but aid workers and locals estimate there are around 200,000 Myanmar migrants, excluding those working in plantations across the province, that have settled here.
Checkpoints have been set up in the lush town to ensure that Myanmar migrants -- most of whom are not allowed to leave Ranong -- remain within it.
The imprint of the migrants is clearly visible with signs in Myanmar plastering everything from gold shops and stores selling electronics to beauty parlours and advertisements for phone cards. Passengers on the bus converse in Myanmar. Women in traditional Myanmar attire walk on the street and the hectic daily fish market is full of Myanmar workers buying, selling and processing all manner of seafood.
"If you see people walking or on a bicycle, most likely they are Burmese because they can't afford to go by any other means," a Myanmar aid worker told me, calling the people by its former name.
Almost all of them have come by illegal routes, usually on a cargo boat, running away from a harsh regime that has discriminated, abused and exploited them. What was once a rich country has now become one of the poorest in Southeast Asia.
TENSION RISING
As with any place that has a large migrant population, there is a palpable sense of tension between the hosts and the guests.
A few weeks ago, the government scrapped plans to grant driving licenses to migrants when some 200 motorcyclists protested. They were worried migrant workers would steal their jobs and smuggle drugs or more illegal workers if allowed to drive, local reports said, even though the licenses were for private use.
A foreign aid worker who has lived in Ranong for a few years recounted a recent incident in which a Myanmar migrant was beaten to death after a motorcycle accident involving a Thai resident.
Migrant workers are also vulnerable to police extortion and arrest and the tension translates into the workplace as well.
Most migrants in Ranong are ethnic minorities from southern Myanmar with little or no education and they end up doing low-paid, menial jobs in the fishing and seafood processing industries where the demand for cheap labour is high.
Many earn between 100 and 200 baht ($3 to $6) a day. The lucky ones receive work permits applied for them by their owners -- although they have to pay for it themselves -- but rarely get to see the documentation.
Some like construction worker Aung are more philosophical.
"We can't blame the owners for being tough because there are many bad migrants as well," he told me. "We know people who would get their work permit and borrow money from owners and then run away to Bangkok or central Thailand."
STATELESS AND IN DEBT
Some are also stateless, which means they are not registered as citizens of Myanmar. Often this is because they live in remote areas or they belong to an ethnic minority that has angered the military junta.
Then there are kids who were born in Ranong to migrant parents, but have no birth certificate or documentation to show they are Myanmar nationals.
I met one, a playful four-year-old, in a crumbling building some 30 Myanmar families call home. His mother, Myat, comes from an island in Mon state and gave birth to her three children in Ranong. While her husband works on a fishing boat, she makes ends meet collecting mussels. Their combined income is around $150 per month.
"There's never enough money to spend, let alone save," she said. "I have a debt of about 6,000 baht ($150) at 20 percent interest."
They live on the ground floor of a dilapidated three-storey building patched together with corrugated iron sheets and bits of wood, for which she has to pay $30 a month. The wooden beams in their old bedroom had become so worn out it's a safety hazard, so the whole family live, cook, eat and sleep in a five-metre-square room.
I asked her why she hasn't moved out to a better place.
"I've been staying here for 14 years and the owner is good and flexible," she said. "I owe eight months' rent but he hasn't thrown us out yet. Other places won't tolerate this."
For Myat and her stateless children, this squalor is better than being in Myanmar where the living is even harder.
"It's actually easier to make money here. I have to live where it's suitable for the family even if I'm not happy," she said.
No comments:
Post a Comment