The Guardian (USA)

Essex police release names of Vietnamese lorry death victims

- Amelia Gentleman

Ten teenagers were among the 39 Vietnamese people found dead in a refrigerat­ed lorry in Essex last month, the youngest of them being two 15-year-old boys, police have revealed.

Detectives have completed identifica­tion of the bodies found in the container, which was shipped from Belgium to Essex on 23 October, and confirmed that all the victims, 31 males and eight females, were Vietnamese. As well as the two children aged 15, Dinh Dinh Binh and Nguyen Huy Hung, there was one 17-year-old, four 18-year-olds and three 19-year-olds.

A team of Vietnamese officials traveled to Britain to help with the formal identifica­tion. Assistant chief constable Tim Smith, who is leading the inquiry, said: “This was an incredibly important process and our team has been working hard to bring answers to worried families who fear their loved one may be among those whose tragic journey ended on our shores.

“Our priority has been to identify the victims, to preserve the dignity of those who have died and to support the victims’ friends and families. It remained of paramount importance to us to ensure that an individual’s next of kin were informed, and that they were given some time to absorb this tragic news before we publicly confirmed their loved one’s identity.”

Caroline Beasley-Murray, senior coroner in Essex, offered her condolence­s to the victims’ families. “My thoughts are with them at this unimaginab­ly difficult time.”

Police confirmed that Pham Thi Tra

My, the 26-year-old who sent text messages to her family to tell them she was dying, was among the dead. “I’m sorry Mum. My journey abroad hasn’t succeeded. Mum, I love you so much! I’m

dying because I can’t breathe,” Pham wrote from the lorry.

The oldest victim was 44. Most came from three known people-smuggling areas in Vietnam: Ha Tinh, Nghe An and Quang Binh. Ha Tinh province was the site of a chemical spill from a steel factory in 2016 that poisoned up to 125 miles of the northern coastline and devastated the fishing industry. Many people have left the area in search of work abroad.

The driver of the lorry, Maurice Robinson, 25, has been charged with 39 counts of manslaught­er, conspiracy to traffic people, conspiracy to assist unlawful immigratio­n and money laundering. Eight suspects were arrested in Vietnam this week in relation to people smuggling offences.

Katherine Mulhern, the head of the anti-traffickin­g charity, Ecpat UK, said: “This tragedy has shocked the UK and its impact has been felt by people across the country who arrived in the UK in the back of lorries. Many of the young people we come into contact with are dealing with significan­t trauma triggered by this tragedy.”

She said it must serve as “a wakeup call to government­s of the devastatin­g human cost of the policies driving these dangerous journeys”.

Mimi Vu, a leading expert on traffickin­g of young Vietnamese people to Europe and the UK, said: “It is revealing the sheer number of young people, the 10 teenagers, who died. Children and teenagers have an exacerbate­d vulnerabil­ity, they are under the thumb of the traffickin­g network that is controllin­g them.”

The full list of victims’ names, released by Essex police:

Pham Thi Tra My, 26, from Ha Tinh Nguyen Dinh Luong, 20, from Ha Tinh Nguyen Huy Phong, 35, from Ha Tinh Vo Nhan Du, 19, from Ha Tinh Tran Manh Hung, 37, from Ha Tinh

Tran Khanh Tho, 18, from Ha Tinh Vo Van Linh, 25, from Ha Tinh Nguyen Van Nhan, 33, from Ha Tinh Bui Phan Thang, 37, from Ha Tinh Nguyen Huy Hung, 15, from Ha Tinh Tran Thi Tho, 21, from Nghe An Bui Thi Nhung, 19, from Nghe An Vo Ngoc Nam, 28, from Nghe An Nguyen Dinh Tu, 26, from Nghe An Le Van Ha, 30, from Nghe An Tran Thi Ngoc, 19, from Nghe An Nguyen Van Hung, 33, from Nghe An Hoang Van Tiep, 18, from Nghe An Cao Tien Dung, 37, from Nghe An Cao Huy Thanh, 33, from Nghe An Tran Thi Mai Nhung, 18, from Nghe An Nguyen Minh Quang, 20, from Nghe An Le Trong Thanh, 44, from Dien Chau Pham Thi Ngoc Oanh, 28, from Nghe An Hoang Van Hoi, 24, from Nghe An Nguyen Tho Tuan, 25, from Nghe An Dang Huu Tuyen, 22, from Nghe An Nguyen Trong Thai, 26, from Nghe An Nguyen Van Hiep, 24, from Nghe An Nguyen Thi Van, 35, from Nghe An Tran Hai Loc, 35, from Nghe An Duong Minh Tuan, 27, from Quang Binh Nguyen Ngoc Ha, 32, from Quang Binh Nguyen Tien Dung, 33, from Quang, Binh Phan Thi Thanh, 41, from Hai Phong Nguyen Ba Vu Hung, 34, from Thua Tien Hue Dinh Dinh Thai Quyen, 18, from Hai Phong Tran Ngoc Hieu, 17, from Hai Duong Dinh Dinh Binh, 15, from Hai Phong

them.

Under the Howard government changes, only New Zealanders with permanent residency or citizenshi­p can receive the full range of welfare payments. Those on an SCV can only receive a small handful, including the family tax benefit and the single income family supplement.

Reginald Miller moved to Brisbane from Christchur­ch just months after the laws came into effect to take up a senior wine stewardshi­p role. Just a week later, the company went bust, and within a month Miller was homeless.

“I couldn’t go home because I didn’t have the money for it and I couldn’t afford the rent – there wasn’t anything I could do at the time,” Miller says. “So I was on the streets. For those of us that don’t have access to Centrelink, we are screwed. If we lose our jobs, we are screwed.”

Since then Miller has cycled between casual employment, job losses and homelessne­ss – trapped at the intersecti­on of physical injuries, mental health issues and a welfare system designed to ignore people like him.

It’s difficult to determine the exact number of New Zealanders unable to access welfare. At the end of 2016 there were nearly 650,000 people on the SCV, but this includes those in Australia for a holiday or short stay.

The 2016 census showed that New Zealanders have a higher labour force participat­ion rate in Australia and lower rates of unemployme­nt. But the majority of these jobs are in lower-skilled industries, and many are casualised.

New Zealanders can apply for the disability support pension, with both government­s contributi­ng to it. Under the rules, an applicant must show they have a condition that will last more than two years, is fully diagnosed, treated and stabilised, and one that will stop them working for at least 15 hours a week.

Despite having medical certificat­es saying this is the case, Hana was knocked back for the DSP. She has now applied a second time and is living off just over $50 a week while cycling between temporary accommodat­ion and homelessne­ss.

Nerang Neighbourh­ood Centre, a Gold Coast community organisati­on, has come to her aid, providing enough money for 17 nights’ accommodat­ion for Hana and her son.

The centre’s coordinato­r, Vicky Rose, says that of some 25 inquiries the organisati­ons receives each day, about half are from New Zealanders.

“These are people that have been living here for many years and have found themselves in a normal life crisis – like unemployme­nt, a relationsh­ip breakdown or sickness,” Rose says. “They’ve been working hard and living here, but it’s not until they get into a crisis that they find out what their residency status means.”

Hana has encountere­d many families like hers.

“There are so many people from New Zealand in the parks with their children, with their families,” she says. “We didn’t come to Australia to be homeless, we came here for an opportunit­y for a better life for our children.”

Miller moved to Melbourne after about a month on the streets of Brisbane. He got a security licence and worked in that industry for nearly nine years, helping to raise two children. But after his relationsh­ip broke down and a back injury made him unable to work, he was again facing living in his car.

“I feel like I have no country,” he says. “I have no roots – there’s nowhere I belong. I feel like I’ve been abandoned by the New Zealand government and I’ve been abandoned by the Australian government.”

A number of groups offer community-led welfare. In Melbourne there is a volunteer-run food pantry for New Zealanders in need, along with an unofficial network to find housing.

Maria Kumar, a social worker, helps to run a number of these initiative, including a Facebook group aiming to find safe housing for people who are ineligible for housing assistance in Australia.

“Housing services are actually sending families to us that are in crisis,” Kumar says. “We then have to reach out to families in the community to see if they can offer a bed for a night or more.”

Kumar founded the Melbourne Tautoko Whanau, a pantry that offers food supplied by OzHarvest.

“We do often get the question, why Kiwis only?” Kumar says. “Well, it’s because nobody else is providing the service for them. They can’t access the Salvation Army, they don’t have a concession card and they’re not able to access the Foodbank.”

New Zealanders like Miller and Hana would only be able to access most forms of welfare if they obtained permanent residency or returned to New Zealand. For many living in poverty, neither is a realistic option.

The Melbourne community legal centre WestJustic­e is preparing to launch a campaign aiming to lobby politician­s to change the laws.

“Being ineligible to access one support has a flow-on effect to every other aspect of your life,” says a WestJustic­e lawyer, Semisi Kailahi. “You end up trying to plug the hole with money that would have been used for other important needs for everyday living.

“That’s how financial hardship arises. That’s how mental illness arises. That’s how family violence starts. That’s how criminal offending starts. They all contribute to each other. A person’s struggle cannot be compartmen­talised.”

In mid-2017 the Coalition introduced a new pathway to permanent residency for New Zealanders. But it requires an annual salary of at least $53,900 for four years, and the applicatio­n fees are too high for many.

By the government’s estimates, less than half the New Zealanders on the SCV will be eligible.

“The Australia government is more interested in being discrimina­tory against the poor,” Miller says. “If you’ve got money then you’re good.”

Returning to New Zealand isn’t an option, he says. “I’ve got children here in Australia and I’ve got friends here in Australia who actually care. In New Zealand, what have I got?”

Miller, who served in the New Zealand army, has received support from a local RSL club, and, with help from friends, has moved into his own apartment. And, after completing thousands of job applicatio­ns – he lost count at 5,500 – he has a job in retail.

“With that typical Kiwi spirit of never giving up – even though I’ve wanted to – I’ve finally landed a job,” he says.

He has also been giving back to his local community, volunteeri­ng with the State Emergency Service. “I’m just nothing to the Australian government, but to my local community at least I can do something to help them,” he says.

Meanwhile, Hana is waiting to hear whether her DSP applicatio­n has been successful.

“Australia is great when you’re working, when you’ve got a stable income and a stable home,” she says. “But what happens when the unknown happens? We work hard, we call it home but we don’t feel like we belong.”

* Name has been changed

• Crisis support services can be reached 24 hours a day: Lifeline 13 11 14; Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467; Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800; MensLine Australia 1300 78 99 78

involved in the Car Wash corruption investigat­ion found Belo Monte contractor­s were paid inflated fees in return for kickbacks to political parties.

Activists said environmen­tal authoritie­s had issued a license to the dam despite scientific warnings and the concerns of their own technical staff. “As details of the corruption scandal have unfolded, the motivation­s underlying such reckless decisions have become abundantly clear, as well as their tragic consequenc­es,” said Brent Millikan of Internatio­nal Rivers.

It is unclear whether more constructi­on is needed to reinforce the Pimental dam wall, which would require a hefty additional investment. In the short term, the authoritie­s face the dilemma of whether to accept the possible erosion of the dam wall or a further decline in water quality.

“That there is already a shortage of water calls into question the entire viability of Belo Monte hydroelect­ric project,” Thais Santi, the public prosecutor for Altamira, said. “This is a fault in the constructi­on and the planning.”

She plans to send a formal request to the federal authoritie­s in the coming days for immediate humanitari­an assistance to affected residents and a suspension of the dam. She considers this a case of ecocide. “It is already apparent this project is a mistake,” she said. “As well as the death of a river, it will result in the death of people. There is already insufficie­nt food in this area.”

The grim situation is apparent on a motor canoe ride along the volta grande, or great bend, of the Xingu river. Locals explain how the waterway is narrowing and becoming shallower.

When we reach the Boca da Terra Preta waterfall, it is no longer navigable. On the exposed rocks are two dead acari fish that appear to have been trapped, desiccated and had their guts ripped out by vultures. On the river bank, sarao trees – which usually provide food for the abundant pacu fish are now so far back that their fruit no longer falls in the water. Fishing communitie­s say their catches are down by between 50 and 80% since the river was dammed.

On a small island in the river, more than 50 locals arrived by boat last week to testify to the problems caused by the dam. As well as increasing hunger and lower incomes, several said they suffered depression as a result of the sudden collapse of the riverscape they had grown up with. “Everything is getting worse,” said Sarah Rodrigues de Lima. “I’ve been fishing here for 35 years but all the fish have fled. The river is drying up.”

Others described how they used to catch filhote, one of the most prized river species, weighing more than 100kg before the dam, but now rarely catch one of even 20kg. Next year is set to be even worse. This will be the start of a new water management system that will prioritise the dam and the ecosystem on alternate years. Even under its best scenario, the voltagrand­e will get less peak rainy season water than during the severe drought of 2016, which killed so many fish that locals refer to it as the “year of the end of the world.” .

The new system “will turn the river into a cemetery”, said Cristiane Costa, a biologist working in the office of the public prosecutor. “They are generating energy at the cost of the ecosystem and people.”

Global heating will increase the struggle for water. The government, however, wants more exploitati­on of Amazonian resources. Brazil’s president, Jair Bolsonaro, who is reportedly planning to attend the completion ceremony for Belo Monte, has weakened protection­s for the environmen­t and indigenous communitie­s. Local politician­s will urge him to push ahead with another mega-project in the voltagrand­e, a giant new goldmine called Belo Sun, which would be powered by the dam.

Norte Energia said in a statement that it “strictly complies” with the conditions of its environmen­tal license. The national water agency and the Brazilian Institute for the Environmen­t and Renewable Natural Resources did not respond to the Guardian’s request for a comment.

 ??  ?? Nguyen Dinh Luong (left) and Pham Thi Tra My are among the people who died in the lorry. Photograph: Handout
Nguyen Dinh Luong (left) and Pham Thi Tra My are among the people who died in the lorry. Photograph: Handout
 ??  ?? Family members and neighbours of Pham Thi Tra My attend a praying ceremony with Buddhist monks in front of a makeshift shrine. Photograph: Linh Pham/ Getty Images
Family members and neighbours of Pham Thi Tra My attend a praying ceremony with Buddhist monks in front of a makeshift shrine. Photograph: Linh Pham/ Getty Images

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