Strength through adversity.

Cha was born in March 2005, the third of three daughters, during a violent storm in a remote village near Sapa in northern Vietnam. Her parents, who were illiterate farmers, had married very young. Her mother was just twelve and a half, and her father was fourteen. With no access to medical care, Cha’s mother gave birth at home. She had no pain relief and no support except her young husband.

Soon after Cha’s birth, heavy floodwaters surged through the home. The newborn was swept away in the muddy current. Her father managed to pull her back to safety while her two older sisters looked on, powerless to help. It was a dramatic start to life, marked from the very first day by danger and adversity.

All five of the couple’s children were born at home. Tragically, two died in infancy. The family of five lived in a basic wooden hut with two rooms: one for cooking over an open fire, and another for sleeping. They all shared a single bamboo bed. The roof was damaged and the home was exposed to the elements on a steep mountainside, making it vulnerable to wind and rain. The family owned seven steep rice terraces, but as they were located low on the slope, water was often scarce. Harvests were unreliable. Most years, they grew enough rice to last only five or six months. The rest of the time, the girls foraged to survive. Frogs, snakes, grasshoppers, eels, birds, berries, and mushrooms were common parts of their diet.

Compounding their poverty was their father’s long-standing addiction to opium. His dependence reduced his ability to farm and provide for the family. He was arrested multiple times for theft and, following one prison sentence, began using and dealing heroin alongside opium. His addiction deepened the family’s hardship and instability. My, the eldest sister, was forced to leave school at the age of eleven. She took on responsibilities beyond her years, managing the household, collecting water, farming, and selling handmade trinkets to tourists for a small income.

In 2007, Phil and Hoa from ETHOS met the family while trekking through the region. They were struck by the harsh conditions the family endured and offered support. The family was relocated to a slightly less exposed area, and Phil and Hoa helped to build a sturdier roof, install a water tank, and add a chimney. These changes eased some of My’s burden and improved the family’s sanitation and quality of life.

A new idea emerged: rather than selling to passing tourists, why not welcome travellers into the home for authentic Hmong meals and cultural exchanges? Guests would cook and eat with the family. The income helped to buy better food, eliminated hunger, and provided a regular source of income. With savings, the family could gradually improve their living conditions. ETHOS also gave each of the three girls a piglet. The pigs were fed on food scraps, and their manure was used in a vegetable garden. This small farm project helped supplement the family’s diet and taught the girls practical skills. Yet, progress at home masked deeper troubles. Domestic violence escalated. Cha’s father saw the new income as a means to fund his addiction. Her mother resisted, insisting the money should be spent on food and clothing. Her refusal led to severe beatings. Violence, they later learned, had been a feature of the relationship since the early days of marriage.

When Cha was nine, a particularly violent assault left her mother hospitalised with broken ribs and facial injuries. My, the eldest sister, went to live at the ETHOS community centre in Sapa. Cha and So, the middle sister, were placed in a boarding school in the village and joined My at weekends in Sapa. Their mother was given temporary accommodation by the Women’s Union and worked long hours in a local restaurant in exchange for shelter. The girls began to thrive. They felt safe and comfortable at the ETHOS community centre. They played with travellers, discovered toys like Lego, and quickly became skilled at card games such as UNO. For the first time, they had access to electricity and hot water. They were introduced to traditional arts like batik and learned from local artisans and elders. Despite the safety of their new environment, legal obstacles made progress slow. Since Cha’s parents had never legally married, divorce was not an option. Her mother sought an annulment, which would allow for the division of property and secure a stable future for herself and the girls.

Cha’s father, meanwhile, grew increasingly dangerous. He issued threats against ETHOS and its staff. On two occasions, he arrived at the community centre accompanied by a mob armed with sticks and knives. They stood outside all day, intimidating staff and visitors. Police were called each time to disperse the crowd. Fearing for the family’s safety, local authorities advised that the mother and her three daughters be housed together in the community centre. My, So, and Cha continued to study. Their mother worked in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for trekkers. She also grew vegetables and helped with the cultivation of indigo plants used for dyeing fabrics.

On 14 February 2014, the family celebrated My’s 14th birthday together. It was a joyful day. The next morning, Cha’s mother left, saying she was going to a job interview. With guests arriving, nobody thought much of it at the time. By midday, there had been no word from her. Messages went unanswered. By evening, My found a photograph of their mother with her three daughters and a 500,000 VND note in the girls’ drawer. There was no letter; their mother could not write. But the message was understood. That was the last time they saw her.

She had arranged to be trafficked across the Chinese border. Feeling she had no other option, she left to protect her daughters from further violence. Within days, it became clear she had been sold to a Chinese man she had never met. She joined the ranks of thousands of Vietnamese women trafficked to China, victims of an imbalance created by the one-child policy. After her disappearance, life for the girls took another dark turn. Their father refused to let Cha and So return to ETHOS. He pulled them out of school and forced them to sell on the streets. Any money they made was taken to support his drug addiction. He often disappeared, leaving the girls cold, hungry, and alone. Cha became seriously ill and eventually contracted pneumonia.

One weekend, Cha wandered into Sapa seeking food and warmth. She was found and brought back to ETHOS, where she had a hot shower and a warm meal. Hoa reported the situation to the authorities. Cha never returned to her father’s home. She has lived at the ETHOS community centre ever since. She was enrolled in a new school near Sapa, an hour’s walk each way. Despite the distance, she flourished. Her health improved, her confidence returned, and she began to rebuild her life. So also returned at weekends and later transferred to the same school. For a short while, all three sisters were together. My eventually married and moved out. So, seeking independence, dropped out of school and took a job in Sapa. Within weeks, she too disappeared. She had been trafficked to China. Cha was devastated but remained determined. She completed secondary school with excellent results. Her strong English skills helped her gain entry to one of Sapa’s top high schools. In a class of 34 students, she was the only ethnic minority child. She endured discrimination and isolation. Eventually, she transferred to a different class with over 50 students. Although standards were lower, she felt more at ease and completed her studies.

Today, Cha is studying through an open university programme and works full time with ETHOS. She leads human trafficking awareness and prevention workshops. She has become a youth leader in her community, running village projects in Hmong and helping others find safety and hope. She has also developed skills in storytelling, photography, and filmmaking.

From a baby swept away by floodwaters to a young woman leading others, Cha’s journey is one of extraordinary resilience and hope.