Ho Khau in Vietnamese – How residency red tape binds millions of migrants in Vietnam

Ho Khau in Vietnamese

A vicious tool at worst and a nationwide burden at best, the residency book finds itself at dawn of an inevitable reform.

Ngo Mong Huyen got married in her twenties, much to the protest of her parents. She and her husband rented a house in Saigon and looked forward to a new life together.

When their first child was born, Huyen was;told to submit her permanent residency book (ho khau in Vietnamese) to obtain a birth certificate for the baby, but she only had her ID card.

Ho khau, Vietnam’s household registration system, is similar to China’s hukou, a post-war means to ration food and allocate jobs during the subsidy period and a way to limit urban migration after economic reforms in the 80s. They have become an indispensable part of almost every basic document procedure, including birth certificates.

It's been over a decade since the family fell out, but the 33-year-old vending assistant has not been able to persuade her parents to lend her the book. “The head of the households, they hold the power,” she said. “I have no rights to that book.”

Despite being a Saigon citizen, Huyen has also learned that without a residency book her children are at a serious disadvantage.

Without a birth certificate and a ho khau, Huyen’s children do not have access to health care, insurance or public schools. When they reach the age of 15; they won’t be able to get their adult IDs that allow them to get a proper job; open a bank account, buy a motorbike, get married or even be;issued a death certificate.

Huyen doesn't have the money to pay for private school, so she sends her three children, aged 8, 10 and 11, to a charity learning center run by the Friends for Street Children NGO in District 8, seven kilometers from her rented home in Binh Chanh District.

There, they study with 41 other undocumented children, all of whom have been denied access to basic needs.

A vicious cycle

Sister Hanh with a class at the charity center in District 8, Ho Chi Minh City. Many of the children don’t have birth certificates as their parents do not have permanent residency books. Photo by VnExpress/Thanh Nguyen.

Unlike Huyen, many parents of the children at the center have migrated from all over the Mekong Delta to Saigon in search of a better life.

“Back home, they don't have a house to live in or a job to survive,” Sister Dang Thi Thu Hanh, manager of the center, told VnExpress International.

“Before they could harvest rice or work for other farmers, but now machines have replaced them,” Hanh continued. “They’d rather be poor in the city than hungry back home.”

But life in the city isn’t easy. As migrants, to get a birth certificate for their children; they can either return to the area where they’re permanently;registered, or pay the price of permanent residency in Saigon; which means owning land and building a house.

Neither option seems feasible for these casual workers.

“It usually takes them about two weeks to go back to their hometowns and get a birth certificate for their children,” Hanh explained. “By the time they return, they may no longer have a job in Saigon.”

But even when they risk their jobs and spend hundreds of their hard-earned dollars traveling back and forth, their efforts can be futile.

"If you’ve been gone for over six months it’s like you’re dead to some local authorities,” Hanh explained about the times she's tried to help the parents with the process.

Since 2005, Vietnamese law, in theory, has allowed citizens to obtain birth certificates for their children anywhere in the country, regardless of where they are permanently registered, but the process remains challenging in practice.

VnExpress International reached out to Huynh Tan Dat, vice president of Ho Chi Minh City’s legal aid center, but was refused an interview.

“Just look at what I wrote,” Dat said, referring to his opinion piece in Phap Luat (Law) newspaper in 2015, in which he called for a more lenient approach to poor, undocumented families.

“Some families are so poor they have to mortgage their ID cards for money,” Sister Hanh added. “There’s no way we can help them get birth certificates for their kids.”

For those whose parents do not have the ho khau and ID like fifth grader Pham Thi Kim Yen, the dream of becoming a registered citizen seems distant.

Pham Thi Kim Yen and Bui Van Bao, both 14, at a fifth grade class at Binh An charity center, District 8, Ho Chi Minh City. Yen, the oldest of five children in the family, all undocumented, bikes seven kilometers to school at 6 a.m. every morning, then bikes back to help her mother harvest morning glory in the afternoon. “We want to move up to sixth grade but we don't think we can because we don’t have birth certificates,” they said. Photo by VnExpress/Thanh Nguyen.

“Only my mother has a ho khau and neither of my parents have ID,” the small, timid 14-year-old said.

“I want to go to sixth grade but I don't think I can.”

The charity center only offers classes up to fifth grade. After graduation, the students' school days come to an end. Sister Hanh, who has seen many students come and go, is; worried about their future.

“Many even struggle to make it to fifth grade. I can only hope they study hard so that maybe they can work as vendors in the future."

A burden at best

When the government announced it would stop controlling its citizens with the residency books in November 4, Sister Hanh was among the first to rejoice.

But news came three days later the reform would take another two years. The household registration system, before a blue and now a pink book, would simply be;switched to an online database.

Fast forward two weeks in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, where most citizens are;registered permanently, and life goes on as if nothing has happened.

Eight out of ten decades-old Hanoi residents we spoke to said they were not aware of the news and that the ho khau did not affect their lives enough for them to care.

Yet, they were fully aware of the problems 1.3 million migrants in Hanoi and 2.9 million in Ho Chi Minh City have to face every day.

“Living costs are approximately 40 percent more for migrant workers than they are for permanent residents,” said Nguyen Quang Dong, a public policy expert who researches migrant and unofficial workers.

“They also earn less than the city’s permanent residents,” he added.

A migrant himself, Dong is not unfamiliar with the daily struggles that arise without the pink book.

“I have lived in Hanoi for 15 years but when I moved to a different part of the city, I couldn't set up Internet for my house,” Dong recalled. “Even internet provider Viettel, one of Vietnam’s biggest carriers, requires me to have permanent residency to access its service.”

Local media regularly reports about the ho khau and the massive toll it takes on people who do not have one. A 17-year-old migrant was;forced to give up high school because his family did not have the book in 2014. An academic in Hanoi was;granted a ho khau but decided not to take it due to excessive red tape; then spent ten years traveling back and forth between Hanoi;and his hometown to complete legal paperwork. In July, hundreds of migrant parents held their breath as a lottery draw was;held to offer some of their children places at a public kindergarten; a rare chance for their kids to access public education.

The ho khau limits migrants’ access to basic services such as public education, health care, insurance and excludes them from socio-economic statistics, local organizations and financial assistance, an extensive report by the World Bank in 2014 concluded.

“The problem lies in the public services that feed on the original role of the ho khau,” public policy expert Nguyen Quang Dong explained.

“From hospitals, schools and insurance companies, to electricity and internet providers, if we can’t remove the ties between a person's address and these public services, there’ll be no significant impact.”

More than one reform

Ngo Minh Huyen was extremely hopeful when her decade-long appeal was finally;heard by Ho Chi Minh City’s Department of Justice a few days ago.

She was also;excited about the news the government will scrap the books;and switch to an online system.

“With an online system, even if there's been conflict within the family, I will still be able to get birth certificates for my children,” she said.

The latest government resolution has been;welcomed by experts as the first step towards reform; but many are concerned about what it will actually change.

“We see this as a positive step, but the impact will depend on how the system is implemented,” said Gabriel Denombynes, a former World Bank senior economist for poverty issues in Vietnam.

“The new system could help reduce the burden on both the government;and citizens if it's; done in tandem with other reforms to reduce obstacles to obtaining permanent;registration and to remove barriers to service access for those without permanent registration.”

Public policy expert Nguyen Quang Dong pictures another outcome.

“Even if the ho khau's removed, public services such as internet companies will still ask for ID and proof of address in Hanoi, so what will change?” he said.

“The ho khau is not an effective way of managing public security,” wrote Vu Hoang Linh, vice-principal of Hanoi University of Sciences via email. “There are many people;registered permanently at one address that have lived elsewhere for many years. Controlling citizens through the ho khau is becoming more of a formality and a tool for misconduct.”

“Migration is an indicator of how well the economy is doing and how developed society is,” said public policy expert Nguyen Quang Dong.

“Now the working borders between nations are becoming more flexible. Controlling citizens’ migration would violate freedom of movement," Dong stressed.

“There’s still some subsidy logic in the minds of both governors and the people,” he continued. “The government wants to control its citizens, while the people still want to be dependent on the government.”

“It can only be;changed if the government is;determined to make it work."

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Story by Trang Bui, Bao Yen

Photos by Thanh Nguyen

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