Tsunami Victims Face Land Loss

Still reeling from the loss of her two sons, sister and brother-in-law to the tsunami, Yuphin Chotipraphatsorn is facing another disaster: Developers want to take away all she has left — the land where her house once stood and her family lived.

She is among thousands of Thais in the six provinces hit by December's deadly waves now threatened with eviction from land the government or private enterprises claim is not theirs. Many say they could lose property or homes where their families lived for decades, if not centuries.

"If the tsunami didn't take you away, I will," the 36-year-old Yuphin recalled hearing from a stranger she thinks was sent by a land development company as he warned her and other villagers to move off the site in Ban Nam Khem, which is still a landscape of rubble, wrecked houses and beached boats.

"The tsunami swept away our houses, but the second tsunami is worse because it's going to take away our land," said Chaweang Kaew-ead, a 45-year-old construction worker in this poor fishing village where some 200 people face eviction.

The villagers and activists say the developer, Far East Trading and Construction Co., is taking advantage of the tsunami's destruction to oust them and build hotels for sun-worshipping Westerners and Asians.

In a dispute common in Thailand, businessmen counter that villagers illegally encroached on their land.

At Ban Nam Khem, in the worst-hit area of the coast north of Phuket island, company lawyer Niwat Kaewluan said Far East Trading plans to build a resort on land he contends is illegally occupied by villagers.

The company bought the land from a mining firm, Hok Chong Seng Co., a few years after it stopped work in the area, Niwat said. It's unclear when the purchase was made, but Far East Trading began forcing some villagers off the land in 2002.

Some villagers say they have lived in Ban Nam Khem for more than 30 years — before the Hok Chong Seng Company was granted a mining concession in the late 1970s.

They possess no title deeds. But under Thai law those settled for more than a year on a certain classification of land, under which most of the village falls, can claim ownership.

As in similar cases, many of the 200 facing eviction had already taken the dispute to court before the tsunami struck Dec. 26, killing more than 5,300 Thais and foreign tourists in the south.
As the court battle ensued, the company threw fences around some homes to force residents out, and threats were made. The villagers say the company brought in backhoes to pull down houses or clear away and bury wrecked ones, saying they had no right to live there.

"They put up concrete poles, strung wire and prevented villagers from entering the area right after the tsunami occurred," said Yuphin, who recalled how she was trying to find her missing family members at the time.

The company also posted a sign that read, "No Trespassing or Construction of Any Sort."

"I asked myself, 'Why couldn't I get into the fenced off areas to search for the bodies of my loved ones?'" she said, tears in her eyes. Only the body of her sister was eventually recovered.

The government has offered to build new houses for tsunami victims who lost their homes, but villagers without land deeds don't qualify.

"I sometimes doubt if I am a Thai citizen since I haven't received any help from the government," said Weera Bunruang, a construction worker who said he lost six of his 10 family members.

Intimidation has been incessant. Recently, five men fired gunshots into the air to scare away Thais and foreign volunteers who came to help residents rebuild their houses, the villagers said.

But the villagers are determined to stop the company.

The government has instructed officials to inspect the disputed land and find a compromise, but Sunee Hathatham, an official in the Land Department in Phang Nga province, predicted the fight would have to be settled in court.

"The total loss from the tsunami has given us courage to stand up and fight because we have nothing to lose," said Yuphin, turning to look at what is left of her house — a concrete foundation.

"Where do they want us to go?" she added. "Our families died here and we feel deeply attached to this place."
By Rungrawee C. Pinyorat