Forests of rubber trees and the lives they transformed in Nam Tam

The trees that sent children to university

Under the harsh mid-April sun in Nam Tam commune (Lai Chau province), Tao Van Son (45, from the Lu ethnic group) quietly walks between rows of rubber trees, holding a tapping knife and carefully shaving thin layers from the trunks. Each cut was precise and steady, waiting for milky-white latex to flow into collection cups.

Technically, today should be his day off. Nam Ngap village, where he lives, is holding a village offering ritual. It is a traditional day for the Lu ethnic community. Daily activities pause as villagers gather to pray to protective spirits for favorable weather and abundant harvests, yet Son remains in the plantation, continuing his familiar work.

For him, livelihood leaves little room for rest. His rough hands move tirelessly from one tree to the next. Rain or shine, harvest season or holiday, that rhythm has barely changed.

After 16 years working with rubber trees, Son considers it the most important decision of his life - a choice born from poverty. In his early twenties, Nam Ngap offered little beyond a few maize fields, barely sustaining families. “There wasn’t enough rice to eat, nor money to spend,” he said.

At the time, land was abundant, but roads were all stones and mud. Seeking discipline, Son joined the military, leaving behind the young family he had started in 2000. More than two years later, he returned to find Nam Ngap unchanged and poverty intact.

His eldest daughter spent the first five years of her life without proper medical care. Whenever she fell ill, he would carry her to the local clinic, ask briefly about symptoms, and buy medicine to take home. It was not neglect but a lack of alternatives.

Rubber trees arrived in the Nam Tam production team around 2009. In 2010, a company began recruiting workers, and villagers joined in. Initial tasks included clearing land, digging holes, fertilizing, planting, and maintaining trees in accordance with technical guidance.

Son signed up, seeing the job as an escape from hunger. Starting wages were around VND 2.7 million per month. For him, that meant his children could attend school, and family meals would no longer be interrupted.

By 2017, when latex tapping began, his monthly income rose to VND 3.5 - 4 million. Over time, as plantations reached stable production stages, wages steadily improved. Today, earnings reach VND 7 million per month on average, with harder work bringing higher pay.

Latex is transported to processing factories, where workers are paid an average of VND 4,200 per kilogram. Each worker is assigned more than one ton monthly. Those willing to work harder can exceed targets, gradually lifting families out of hardship.

In the case of Son, what rubber trees provided was not only material stability but pride in watching his children grow.

As he mentioned, his eyes lit up, drawn to the distant rubber trees. He opened his phone, scrolled through photos of his pretty daughter and handsome son who had just finished middle school, and then uttered the words "university," each word spoken quickly as if touching upon something he had never considered. His eldest daughter is currently a second-year student in the Biology Education department at Northwest University (Son La).

Then he says two words: “university admission.”

Coming from a remote border area where life seemed destined to revolve around fields and plantations, “my daughter got into university,” he says quietly. “I’m happy, but worried too. All my money goes toward supporting her studies. I just hope she can keep learning.”

Son is not a man of many words, but his story is written in his eyes and hands - from days of hunger and anxiety over illness to years of tapping latex under sun and rain, all invested in his children’s education.

Bonds among people far from home

Unlike Son, who was born in Lai Chau, Tang Van Toan came from Nghe An in search of opportunity. He arrived in Nam Tam in 2014 following a friend’s suggestion, bringing only his wife, a few clothes, and hopes for a better life.

He spent his early days in workers’ dormitories. More than a decade later, he has progressed from laborer to manager of a production team of nearly 30 workers. In 2022, he and his wife saved enough to build a VND 700 million four-level house, the result of years of sacrifice and missed opportunities to return home.

Their house, whose roof is covered with “brand new” fibre cement, sits about two kilometers from the production team, nestled along a hillside. Once settled, Toan brings his elderly mother from his hometown, and his three children follow. His eldest has also been admitted to a university in Hanoi.

Perhaps because of that, he rarely returns to his homeland, joking that he no longer knows what to do there. He visits only during Tet or when necessary, not because he forgets, but because he has found reasons to stay. Those reasons lie in stable work, regular income, and support from the company.

Managing a production team with a monthly income exceeding VND 10 million, Toan serves as a bridge between supervisors and workers, many of whom belong to ethnic minority groups with limited Vietnamese language proficiency. Training often starts with conversations and patient explanations. Many families have their members working together, so when one person learns, they can teach others.

Phan Trong Vinh, originally from Ha Tinh, is Toan’s direct supervisor. He also left home in 2009 to work with rubber plantations and recently became deputy head of the Nam Tam team. The unit employs nearly 200 workers across nine teams, managing approximately 1,335 hectares of rubber plantations and producing more than 2,500 tons of latex annually.

“Looking at people like Son and Toan, it’s easy to see how rubber trees have changed lives,” Vinh said. Perhaps one day, local people will no longer rely on rubber. Yet over nearly two decades, this “stream of white gold” has supported countless lives, built homes, and put food on tables. “And because of that, children have gone to school. Dreams of education have grown, and one day they may return to continue the story of these villages,” he said.

A strong sense of hope

Leaving Nam Ngap village and heading toward the Lai Chau Rubber Joint Stock Company’s latex processing factory in Phieng Cha village, the air becomes thick with the scent of latex. Bach Dinh Can, deputy manager overseeing the factory, walks along production lines to check on equipment. Though he only assumed the role three months ago following organizational restructuring, he already knows production rhythms and workers by name.

The factory currently employs 55 workers, including 42 directly involved in production. Most belong to the Lu ethnic group. “They speak little but work steadily and learn through practice,” Can said. Production starts at 7:30 a.m. and continues into the next morning. Two shifts operate continuously, each involving 16 - 19 workers and producing 16 - 20 tons of products.

Workers’ monthly incomes in 2025 range between VND 8 - 9 million. During production pauses, they still receive VND 250,000 - 270,000 daily for maintenance and cleaning. Since the factory began operating in 2023, workers’ lives have improved significantly. “Incomes have risen year after year,” Can said. In 2026, the factory aims to process over 6,800 tons of latex and achieve average monthly incomes above VND 8 million per worker.

As he spoke, trucks carrying latex continued arriving. By early May, factory lights stay on late, with rollers and dryers humming amid mountainous landscapes. Between machine sounds come workers’ conversations and laughter as they hope for another successful production season.

$1 = VND 26,391 (Source: Vietcombank).