LEO

S. Leo Chiang is a Taiwan-born, San Francisco-based filmmaker. His most recent film, A VILLAGE CALLED VERSAILLES, has been making the rounds at film festivals and just had its broadcast on PBS Independent Lens. He is a frequent flyer program junkie and would do just about anything to get more miles. He loves reading “US” magazine but feels compelled to always couple it with an issue of “Economist” to offset the trashiness. Leo is currently working on a short documentary about Rep. Anh “Joseph” Cao for the Center for Asian American Media.

“Vessels of Opportunity”? Really? Someone at BP actually thought it was a good idea to call this program “Vessels of OPPORTUNITY”?

I arrive in New Orleans for the first time since the Deepwater Horizon explosion in April, which marked the beginning of one of the biggest man-made disasters in American history. I’m here to cover the BP Claims Fair, hosted by Congressman Anh “Joseph” Cao (R-LA), for local residents suffering financial hardship from the oil spill to apply for compensation from BP. My cameraman Charlie and I are shooting the Vietnamese-speaking “Vessels of Opportunity” trainer demonstrating a Hazmet suit to a handful of Vietnamese American fishers.

For those who are not familiar, the “Vessels of Opportunity” program is BP’s effort to hire commercial fisherfolk and their vessels (the same ones that the oil spill has put out of work) to help with the clean up—deploying “booms,” skimming oil, helping with burn-off operations, etc. To work for the company that has just destroyed my entire way of life, not to mention the complex ecosystem and the already fragile economy of the Gulf Coast region, so I can earn a fraction of the income that I would normally make… that’s what I’d call a golden opportunity.

I’m not sure if you all are aware of this—between 1/3 and ½ of the fisherfolk along the Gulf Coast are ethnically Southeast Asian, most of them Vietnamese Americans. A lot of these folks have fished their entire life, going back to their lives in Vietnam. Many have just recently recovered from the loss and trauma of Hurricane Katrina after five years. They just can’t seem to catch a break. How can you not feel for them?

Now, you can see that I’m big on empathy. I always try to step into other people’s shoes, even the BP execs’ Ferragamos, to understand what they are going through. Surely no one wants this fiasco to end more than the top dogs at BP. When Carl-Henric Svanberg, the BP Chairman, earnestly expressed that BP “care(s) about the small people”, I want to believe that it really was a “slip in translation” by a non-native English speaker instead of a slip out of his condescending subconscious. When CEO Tony Hayward took the weekend off to hang out on a fancy English yacht, he was truly an over-worked man in desperate need of a break instead of an insensitive prick with a bad publicist. Really, I feel their pain.

A few weeks later, I’m on my way back to New Orleans. Rep. Joseph Cao just caused a stir by implying that Lamar MaKay, president of BP America, should consider hara-kiri for the devastation BP has brought onto his constituents. Rep. Cao has invited me to ride along with him and Plaquemines Parish President Billy Nungesser (“The Face of Anger on Spill,” according to the NY Times) on a boat to check out the oil clean up effort. We rode out towards Barataria Bay. Clear blue sky. Wind blowing through our hair. It’s oh-so-idyllic until the oil-slicked booms and the heavy machineries come into sight. The captain gives the boat a burst of oomph, and it climbs over the boom separating the relatively clear water and the thick black layer of crude covering the once lively bay. Workers use vacuum contraptions to suck the oil off of the surface of the water—Governor Bobby Jindal’s favorite oil-fighting tool. The bay is suffocating. It’s a devastating scene, and we are only at the very edge of the spill. It’s hard for me to imagine what it must be like closer to ground zero. It’s hard for me to imagine how this mess can ever be cleaned up.

In the afternoon, I stop by the Mary Queen of Vietnam Church, where several dozen attorneys, mostly Vietnamese American from around the country, have paid their own way and volunteered their time to help the Vietnamese American fisherfolk deal with the legal maze. I am surprised to find the lawyers by themselves without any residents seeking help. Apparently, many “ambulance chasers” have already passed through town, luring some of the Vietnamese American fisherfolk to sign up for no-win class action suits that will take years to resolve and most likely put money in the pockets of these unethical lawyers instead of the fishermen and women. Now, the locals are skeptical of outside lawyers who they think are coming to take advantage of them. Yet another obstacle they must face during this difficult time.

Even as an accidental observer to the aftermath of this unfortunate event, I can understand why most in Louisiana want the offshore drilling ban lifted by President Obama. The fishing industry is already devastated, and the state cannot afford to keep their most lucrative industry on hold. I am heartened that good people are doing good work to help the Vietnamese American folks—like people at Mary Queen of Vietnam Community Development Corporation, at Boat People SOS, Rep. Cao and his staff, and the volunteer attorneys. Still, It’s sad to think that, much like Katrina, the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill will continue to scar the people of the Gulf Coast long after the news coverage on the event has faded from most of our memories.