Meet the men behind Vietnam’s popular catfish exports

Behind the profit that catfish exports have brought to Vietnam is the blood and sweat of the silent workers at hatcheries located across the Mekong Delta.

Tuoi Tre (Youth) newspaper reporters have observed a day in the life of workers in the catfish industry, which contributes nearly VND2 billion (US$89,680) to the country’s income every year.

Starting their day at 9:00 am, the fish farm workers in Giong Trom District, located in Ben Tre Province, travel by small craft to an unnamed isle, where they will net the catfish and transport them back to the processing plant.

It takes the men over an hour to lure the fish to one corner of the over one hectare pond with their nets, before they are scooped up with a large plastic basket and transferred to a larger container.

It is then carried by two men to their craft and delivered to the factory.

One is not a professorial catfish worker until they have been stung by a catfish’s barbs.

A catfish has two hard and sharp barbs. Putting one's hands into a large shoal of fish struggling to escape is like playing with a sea of moving knives.  

“It cut me,” Nguyen Van Bac, 45, an employee from An Giang Province, screams as he fixes his wound and bites his tongue through the pain, which will usually last for hours.

According to Nguyen Van Mach, 48, his team has 26 members, all from An Giang.

Timing is crucial in the job, Mach says, adding that he and his group sometimes work between 2:00 am and 5:00 am, before repeating the process at another pond the same morning.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s day or night. We have to work with the tides of the river to ensure that the fish aren’t dead when they are taken to the processing facilities,” Mach explained.

With over ten years of experience in the job, Bac compares himself to a nomadic shepherd, as their assets usually include only a few items of clothing, a hammock for resting, and a phone to talk to their family.

“We get sick very easily as we usually soak ourselves in the river, have little protection from the sun and the morning dew, not to mention mosquitoes at night,” Bac added. 

Nguyen Van Ty (L) and his co-worker carry the fish to their craft. Photo: Tuoi Tre 

‘Union of nomads’

Nguyen Van Ty, 28, the leader of a group of fish harvesters, said that his ‘union’ would station themselves on the isle for about a week and net all of the catfish there.

Ty seemed unclear on why his group is referred to as a 'union,' as it is not managed by any company, only knowing that the name has existed for a long time.

According to Mach, locals will think of them whenever the name ‘union’ is mentioned.

Ty and his wife have worked as catfish catchers for four years in Ben Tre, Tien Giang, Dong Thap, and Vinh Long Provinces.

Thanks to his experience, Ty has been named leader of the group and tasked with managing the craft on which he and his colleagues travel to work every day.

It is not easy to direct an entire group of people, as the ‘union’ has its own rules, Ty revealed, adding that they treat each other with respect and support each other.

He recalled an incident when members did not hesitate to help one of their colleagues pay for the treatment of his mother’s illness.

“We have each other’s back as we all work away from home. Arguments do occur but they’re quickly replaced with laughter,” he said.

During an interview with Tuoi Tre, Nguyen Van Dao, general director of Go Dang Company, employer of the fish catchers, said that he had offered them a fixed salary, insurance and incentives similar to his employees.

However, the ‘nomads’ had all refused, stating that they preferred the freedom, and did not want to be bound by any rules but their own.

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