Category World News

Bangkok, Thailand – As Myanmar slowly recovers from the magnitude 7.7 earthquake that killed thousands in March, an even greater catastrophe continues to shape the nation’s future – this one man-made.

Myanmar remains gripped by a civil war and after four years of fighting the military regime finds itself increasingly encircled.

But the impact of the earthquake could prove decisive for the conflict in the coming year.

Striking in Myanmar’s central Sagaing Region on March 28, the quake killed at least 3,649 people, with more than 5,000 injured and 145 still missing, according to figures from the military government.

The seismic shock flattened houses, factories, Buddhist pagodas, apartment blocks and brought down bridges and ripped up roads in Sagaing city and nearby Mandalay.

It also disrupted electricity supplies to factories producing munitions for the military, said Tin Lin Aung, a former major in Myanmar’s army who defected to the resistance movement in 2022.

In a clear sign that military supplies are stretched, bullet and artillery casings recently captured from government forces bear this year’s manufacturing date, Tin Lin Aung said.

“When I was in the military, we used to joke that some of the bullets were older than us,” he said.

“Now they are being used straight away,” he said.

The reported interruption to the military’s ammunition production comes as areas the army still controls in Myanmar are surrounded on almost all sides by longstanding ethnic armed groups and newer armed opposition forces.

Despite this, the military maintains an iron grip on the country’s major cities and core critical infrastructure.

Hemmed into urban strongholds, the military has tried to reverse its losses through indiscriminate air strikes and burning villages in rural areas – a campaign the United Nations suspects involves war crimes.

‘More momentum than the military’

Sagaing city was devastated by the quake and it remains under military control, while much of the surrounding countryside is governed by a patchwork of resistance militias – such as the People’s Defence Force (PDF) – which are loosely coordinated by the opposition National Unity Government (NUG).

The NUG declared a truce in earthquake-affected areas until April 20, except for “defensive operations”, yet the military’s operations have continued.

According to the NUG, the Myanmar military’s aerial and artillery attacks killed at least 72 civilians between the quake striking on March 28 until April 8. Two more civilians, including a 13-year-old girl, died from bombing by military aircraft on April 10, the Myanmar Now news outlet reports.

A Sagaing-based PDF fighter who requested anonymity said some rebel units had pivoted to relief efforts in central Myanmar even though their military adversaries were taking advantage of the lull in battle.

“Since the quake, the military has used the Sagaing-Monywa road more confidently because of the truce,” she said. But PDF forces in Sagaing expect fighting to intensify after the April truce is over.

“The PDF has more momentum than the military here,” she told Al Jazeera, adding that the NUG is now “coordinating better with ethnic armed organisations”.

“There will be more fighting in coming months,” said Ko Ko Gyi of the Sagaing PDF’s Battalion 3.

Regional security analyst Anthony Davis said he doubted the earthquake would distract the military from its strategic objectives, adding that most soldiers had stayed in their garrisons rather than help with relief efforts.

“The military isn’t taking time off to save people. They’ll keep up the air strikes and, where possible, launch ground offensives to weaken the PDF,” Davis said.

But it is western Rakhine State – largely spared from the earthquake – that is still the most consequential battleground currently, he said.

There, the rebel Arakan Army (AA) has clashed with the military’s forces around the state capital Sittwe and Kyaukphyu, the site of a key pipeline that transports gas from across Myanmar to China.

The AA has simultaneously pushed out of its home territory in the west of the country and into Myanmar’s central heartlands in Magwe, Bago and Ayeyarwady regions, Davis said.

“They are the swing player who can significantly move this conflict one way or another,” he added.

Commanding an estimated 40,000 soldiers, the AA has a proven record of defeating the military regime’s forces.

In eastern Myanmar’s Kayah State, a senior resistance commander said the earthquake had underscored the suffering of displaced communities who “bear the brunt of the ongoing wars”.

“The side who’s willing to care for the people can sway public opinion and will succeed in the coming battles,” he said.

In the north and northwest, the military is on the back foot.

The Kachin Independence Army captured Indaw town in the northern Sagaing Region on April 7 after an eight-month siege, despite declaring its own post-quake truce. Chin resistance forces recently gained control of Falam township in western Myanmar – though they had not announced any ceasefire.

Political analyst Kyaw Hsan Hlaing said the military is still grappling with the aftermath of the earthquake and that may create openings for the AA and others to seize more towns.

“However, any such gains would likely be incremental, as the military’s longstanding control and ability to adapt, especially in regions like Bago and Magwe, even under crisis conditions remain significant,” he said.

“In the long term, the earthquake is unlikely to fundamentally shift the balance of power in Myanmar,” he said.

‘Divine intervention’

While the earthquake has not dealt a decisive blow to military rule, the quake has delivered a psychic shock to the regime’s generals.

In a country where astrology and superstition guide the highest political decisions, many interpret the natural disaster as a cosmic rebuke against Myanmar’s military leadership.

“They see this earthquake as divine intervention – punishment for the mistakes of the king. From what I hear, they are not blaming him [regime leader Min Aung Hlaing] directly. But there are questions about his leadership and capacity,” said former major Tin Lin Aung, who still maintains contacts within the secretive military establishment.

According to Tin Lin Aung, the regime has ordered civil servants nationwide to recite a protective Buddhist chant nine times daily for nine consecutive days. The number nine has auspicious symbolism in Buddhist tradition.

He also described growing confusion within the ranks over the regime’s response to the earthquake – appealing for international aid and assistance, declaring a truce, while also continuing its attacks.

“They know the people hate them more and more, and their leader seems lost,” he said.

Richard Horsey, senior Myanmar adviser at the International Crisis Group, said even if Myanmar military’s commander-in-chief Senior General Min Aung Hlaing dismisses these supernatural interpretations, the fact that his inner circle takes them seriously creates real vulnerability. Instead of causing an internal coup, he suggested the quake as a bad omen would more likely signal the erosion of Min Aung Hlaing’s authority and the rise of open criticism.

“You go from there to people feeling they can just ignore his orders and do their own thing because everyone else agrees with them, not him,” he said.

Political analyst Kyaw Hsan Hlaing said some sources suggest that beliefs in the quake as a portent of collapse for military rule may be used to push the narrative that the regime needs to “act decisively to regain control”.

Superstition is just one of many factors shaping the military’s decisions in the conflict, he added.

The earthquake has also “done enormous damage to the basic fabric of Myanmar,” Horsey said, noting that Mandalay’s residents are potentially facing relocation due to extensive housing damage.

Given the scale of the quake, it would likely affect the civil war – “but in ways that are hard to predict”, he said.

Criticised for its ineffectual and disinterested response to earthquake victims, along with continued attacks at a time of national emergency, the military’s poor reputation has plummeted even further in the eyes of the people and its adversaries.

The powerful ethnic armed groups involved in the conflict will probably be even more unwilling to negotiate for peace with the military following the quake, Horsey said.

“Even if you could get a spirit of compromise, which seems not to exist”, few would believe the military’s sincerity in adhering to any peace deal or ceasefire document.

Ashish Bandopadhyay, 65, has ridden the 10 minutes from his home to a tea shop in Serampore, which is located about 30 kilometers (19 miles) away from Kolkata, on a warm morning in March.

Dressed in a pastel pink polo shirt, Ashish takes charge of the shop, declaring it’s his “turn” to run it today. As he works to make a fresh pot of cha (the Bengali word for tea), he smiles as he declares, “I don’t work here.” “I’m just an old-timer and a customer who enjoys volunteering,” I tell myself.

Located in the old part of the town, this hole-in-the-wall shop is locally known as Naresh Shomer cha er dokaan (Naresh Shome’s tea shop). The production and sharing of tea is a significant component of social bonds in India.

And that’s the focus of this tea shop. For a century, it has been a space for relaxation, conversation and shared moments. However, it expands the social bond by requiring customers to brew and serve tea as well.

Since he was ten years old, Ashish, who has since left his construction-related office job, has been stopping by this tea shop. It is where he meets friends to catch up over a cup of tea.

Ashok Chakroborty, owner of the store, opens the store on a weekday morning and then departs for his office job.

“Until the time he returns in the evening, one of us assumes control over running the shop. Today was my turn”, Ashish says. Ten volunteers work in the shop seven days a week, total. None are compensated; the majority of them are volunteer customers who, like Ashish, have retired and have received pensions from their former employers.

Today, Ashish arrived at the shop at 9am and closed for lunch at noon. At 3 o’clock, he reopened. I prefer to stay here for the majority of the week, if not every day. After my departure, another person steps into my role”, he says.

“Whoever is free does it does it,” Ashish says, without a fixed rota. After using the money to purchase milk or sugar, we store it in a wooden box on the shelf. And there hasn’t been a single day without a caretaker”.

Naresh Chandra Shome’s legacy

Little has changed in the 100 years the five-by-seven-foot tea shop has been going – “except for a few whitewashes and a ceiling repair”, Ashish notes. The traditional coal-fired traditional clay stove’s exposed walls are dark with soot and smoke from despite the layers of paint.

With a refillable price of only five rupees (approximately $0.06), tea can still be consumed in both paper and clay cups.

The shop offers a modest tea menu with simple, straightforward options. Customers can choose between Kobiraji cha (black tea with spices) and milk tea, which is served plain or with lemon, or milk tea. The bakery’s offerings are completed by jars of biscuits.

Situated across from Chatra Kali Babu’s Crematorium, family members often come for tea after bidding farewell to loved ones.

Naresh Chandra Shome, a tea company with roots in India’s colonial era, founded the business. Shome’s current owner, Ashok, only knows about him because he left his job to fight for freedom in that time.

Following India’s independence from British rule in 1947, Shome joined the Communist Party of India (Marxist) and remained an active member until his death in 1995 at the age of 77. His tea shop has been a gathering place for comrades for his entire life, where they would meet, eat, and exchange ideas over cups of tea.

The current location of the tea shop is close to the local CPI (M) office. “Shome was a helpful man and was active in community service. His store was well-known at the time. He’s seen in a photo in the party office, claims 54-year-old Prashanto Mondal, a regular customer at the tea shop.

He recalls how he was first brought to the shop by a colleague during a lunch break 25 years ago.

The LPG gas delivery agent explains that Serampore has many tea stalls, but I frequently visit them because of the shop’s unique atmosphere and sense of camaraderie.

After Ashish has finished his tea, Prashanto rises to assist him in recharging the oven’s coal. Like Prashanto, most customers help with duties such as fetching milk from the nearby shop or filling water from the tap.

According to Ashish, “We have heard tales of Naresh Shome during his activist days.” He would frequently leave the store without warning because he needed to go to the community or be taken by the police, always asking his customers to take care of the place. I believe this legacy has endured – customers naturally take responsibility for the tea shop in the owner’s absence – the test of time”.

From the colonial era to Bengali adda and chas

In about 1925, Shome opened the tea shop on the ground floor of the building owned by his aunt. The 350-year-old building on the banks of the Hooghly River also housed a number of different types of shops, including one that sold utensils, before becoming a gathering place for tea drinkers and conversationalists.

The ceiling’s exposed wooden beams appear to carry the weight of history. The thick limestone walls stand as silent witnesses to the many Bengali, Danish and English people who’ve passed through over the years. The shop faces Chatra Ghat, a riverside burial site where Hindus have for generations buried their dead. Traditional wood pyres are now replaced by a contemporary electric crematorium.

The town of Serampore, home to about 200, 000 people, predates the West Bengal capital of Kolkata by a few centuries and has been ruled at times by both the Danes and the British. From 1755 to 1845, the town was a Danish trading post known as Frederiksnagore until the British took control and remained so until 1947 when it gained its independence.

Once, horse-driven carriages once carried American officers and their families through the streets. Today, the bylanes bustle with motorbikes, electric rickshaws and cars. Tall apartment buildings built in the more recent years are juxtaposed by buildings of European style.

Local restoration activist Mohit Ranadip explains that the tea shop holds an important position in the cultural history of Serampore. The Serampore Heritage Restoration Initiative, a town-based citizen-led organization dedicated to protecting and promoting the town’s heritage, is led by Ranadip.

He claims that Adda and paraculture are still very relevant in the [Chatra] region and that is one of the reasons the tea shop is still so well-known.

In West Bengal, para culture loosely refers to a neighbourhood or locality, defined by a strong sense of community. Every para has its adda spot, whether it’s a park, street, or tea shop, invariably. West Bengalians are a fan of Adda, a beloved pastime. Markedly different from mere small talk or chatting, it is best described as an informal group conversation that’s long, fluid and relaxed in nature. These gatherings are always bound together by a cup of cha.

Naresh Shome’s tea shop, which is a focal point for this adda tradition, draws people from all walks of life to congregate and exchange their daily experiences over steaming cups of tea in the Chatra neighborhood.

Prashanto and his colleagues, Karthick and Amal, discussed the remaining gas cylinders they had to deliver by the end of the day. Some individuals made their own quick tea. Anima Kar, who came with her daughter to catch up with her brother, was one of the evening’s visitors, who was more at ease.

The state of West Bengal’s connection with tea also runs deep. The tea industry flourished in the Darjeeling hills during the British Raj, which is located 600 kilometers north of Serampore. Darjeeling and the surrounding area were the first to have commercial tea gardens. The emerald green tea estates of Darjeeling still produce some of the world’s most expensive tea.

Ashok leaves his clerical job at around 6 o’clock in the evening. Wearing an olive green T-shirt, he takes over from Ashish, seamlessly continuing the shop’s daily rhythm.

Lakhirani Dakhi, the building’s owner, has son-in-law Ashok. Since Shome’s death, he has been in charge of the store.

“Today Ashish da (brother) gave me 400 rupees ($4.65) as the day’s income”, says Ashok, as he poured tea into clay cups. He claims that customers who refuse to pay their tea always always return the correct amount to the cash box or pay it back later.

He continues, “We sell about 200 cups every day.” &nbsp,

A “question mark” for the future

“I love the tea with masala (spice mixture) made by Ashok da”, says 50-year-old Anima, who has been a customer for years. This tea shop is our humble equivalent, according to the saying “If Kolkata has a coffee house where people meet for some quality time and adda, then.”

Anima recalls Shome fondly and used to accompany her father when she was a child. Now, she sometimes visits with her family. The tea shop is still a enduring symbol of tradition, community service, and a love of tea. People are drawn to tea every morning and every evening by a profound sense of belonging and shared history, according to Anima.

At 9pm, Ashok pours the last pot of tea for the four remaining customers and prepares to call it a day.

He has started to worry about the future of his recognizable store in recent months.

“I have no idea how the younger generation will carry on this cherished trust legacy. There are very few visitors from the younger generation who come and participate in the tea shop”, he says.

Ashok’s son, according to him, is an engineer and hasn’t shown much interest in the store.

Restoration activist Ranadip shares his concerns, saying, “The younger generation has little time for adda, which seriously skews the future of the store like this.”

Ethiopian runner Tesfaye Tsegaye Keress deftly positioned himself near the Techcombank Ho Chi Minh City International Marathon starting line in December after he deftly sliced his way through nearly 18, 000 runners.

Keress said his diminutive size – he stands just 1.62 metres (5.3ft) tall and weighs about 50kg (116 pounds) – allowed the 27-year-old to slink easily through the throngs of runners to secure a strategic spot near the front just before the starting pistol was fired, in what was billed as Vietnam’s biggest marathon.

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam’s commercial capital, was where Keress had just arrived a few days prior. He was accompanied by fellow Ethiopian runner, Dereje Alemu Miko, who came to compete in the 21km (13-mile) half-marathon at the event where Keress would run the full 42.1km marathon.

The participation of Keress and Miko immediately piqued people’s interest in a race that consisted primarily of local Vietnamese runners in the thousands. Local media wanted to know who the competitors from East Africa were.

According to Keress, their trip to Vietnam was not solely due to their love of running, as Keress claimed to Al Jazeera.

Keress knew that taking first place in the Ho Chi Minh City marathon would earn him a $2, 500 cash prize.

He claimed that winning was crucial.

“I have a wife and two sons, and we live in Sendafa”, Keress said, naming his hometown in Ethiopia’s Oromia region, about 38km (24 miles) northeast of the capital, Addis Ababa.

We milk two cows and operate a chicken farm. We plan to expand our farm using the money from marathon races”, he said.

He would need to defeat Kenya’s Edwin Kiptoo, an East African who is currently the world’s best long-distance runner, in order to win.

Finding their feet on Vietnam’s streets

In Ethiopia, where Keress was born and who produced some of the world’s most renowned track athletes, Keress might be regarded as an average runner.

His personal best speed to complete a marathon is 2: 23: 50, which he achieved in 2023 in a marathon in Thailand. Although impressive, that speed would still prevent him from competing in the elite marathons because professional competitors in the Boston Marathon need to run at speeds of less than 2 hours, 13 minutes, respectively.

In Vietnam, however, Keress’s speed makes him a championship contender in a country where running has seen a steep rise in popularity.

Marathons have increased significantly in Vietnam over the past ten years, which is partly attributable to the country’s growing middle class’s desire to stay fit in its expanding, wealthy cities. There is also a new social side to running in Vietnam’s well-attended marathons, according to reports, which have seen&nbsp, a steep rise in popularity since the mid-2010s.

Following a years-long decline during COVID, many people who were trying to stay healthy returned to running as a popular sport. Local news site VnExpress reported in 2023 that a total of 41 full marathon races, with some 264, 000 entrants, took place in 27 provinces and cities across Vietnam that year. That’s 10 more marathons than Vietnam did in 2022.

With hundreds of thousands of runners taking part in a plethora of marathons up and down this country of 100 million people, major private sponsors have stepped in with prize money.

High-performing athletes like Keress and Kiptoo are now attracting them from East Africa’s elite running centers thanks to Vietnam’s numerous marathons and lucrative prizes worth thousands of dollars for winners.

East African athletes have long been a dominant force in competitive running, with world-famous track stars like Kenya’s Eliud Kipchoge – who in 2019 became the first person&nbsp, in recorded history to run a 42-km marathon in less than two hours – and Ethiopian Haile Gebrselassie who is considered one of the greatest long-distance runners in history, having set 27 world records.

Sporting scouts have long searched for promising talent in Kenya and Ethiopia, among other East African nations. Deals to compete in competitions around the world are often mediated by sport agents, who sponsor a runner and in return may take a cut of their winnings if successful. Additionally, there is a chance to capitalize on media coverage of individual and team victories gained from product and brand deals.

Such an arrangement brought Keress and Miko to compete in the Ho Chi Minh City marathon and half-marathon in December. A Thai promoter, who sponsors a team of runners, and who runs a business that specializes in energy supplements for athletes, both manage them.

Marathon running has also taken off in Thailand, along with a growing market for running gear and other services. Additionally, sponsors who sponsor brand names and their goods and services receive a high return when runners like Keress and Miko win races.

From a celebrity athlete to a prize hunter in Vietnam

When Edwin Kiptoo –&nbsp, who should not be confused with another younger Kenyan runner with the same name but of much greater international acclaim – first arrived in Vietnam in December 2023, he described how he was initially unprepared for the country and its costs.

With only 150, 000 Vietnamese dong (less than $6), Kiptoo arrived with the challenge of simply finding accommodation on the day of the race. In downtown Ho Chi Minh City, the cheapest room Kiptoo could find was double that price.

However, when Le Hoan, a neighborhood runner, made friends with Kiptoo the day before the race, they went to collect their running bibs. Learning of Kiptoo’s struggle to find somewhere cheap to stay, Le Hoan tried to help in the search for accommodation using a booking app. Still no success.

As Kiptoo had handed Le Hoan his passport during the search for somewhere to stay, the Vietnamese runner spotted that they were both born in the same year, and that the Kenyan’s birthday was on the same day as his wife’s. Le Hoan invited the Kenyan to his home, using the alignment of dates as a sign of good fortune. Over dinner with Le Hoan’s family, Kiptoo told them how he was running to support his family and had to save as much as possible.

On the eve of the massive Techcombank Ho Chi Minh City, Le Hoan paid for the runner’s stay in a hostel that night. The next day, Kiptoo would run faster than Vietnam’s two best marathon runners, Hoang Nguyen Thanh and Nguyen Van Lai, to win the race and pocket a $2, 500 cash prize on the spot.

“Mr. Hoan brought me home and served me meals with his family. He also rented me a hostel room for the night”, Kiptoo recounted to Al Jazeera. He said, “I offered to pay Hoan back after I won my first race, but he just declined.”

“The generosity of him and his family truly surprised me”, he added.

Kiptoo’s wins and public profile in Vietnam have rocketed since. He quickly rose to fame in Vietnam, and he is now sought after for his racing exploits. His winnings have also stacked up, earning an average of about $1, 000 each week for taking first place in races across the country.

But that was only the start.

In October 2024, Kiptoo signed a major sponsorship contract with sportswear company Do-Win Vietnam.

The business entered a “formal partnership with renowned runner Kiptoo” in a celebratory Facebook post!

“This collaboration will create new breakthroughs and further strengthen the brand’s position in the sports industry”, it said.

The agreement secures a visa that will allow Kiptoo to compete professionally in Vietnam, as well as paying for the runner’s living expenses, competition entrance fees, and crucially, secures a visa. In the past, visas and visa extensions for Africans in Vietnam have been problematic, partly due to a crackdown on foreigners involved in crime in the country.

Running for Kiptoo has a lot of security because he has a major sponsor behind him.

The 38-year-old, whose wife and daughter are still in Kenya, has even been given access to exclusive, publicly funded sports facilities and resources, which are typically reserved for provincial or national-level Vietnamese athletes.

Kiptoo said he has been able to fully dedicate his time to training, making him a force hard to beat in Vietnam’s marathons, despite the pressure of competing in the country.

“The support from Vietnamese people makes me feel at home”, Kiptoo told Al Jazeera.

Kiptoo’s success in Vietnam has not only earned him financial rewards, but it has also given him a sort of local celebrity status. He has been featured many times by local Vietnamese media because of his running success and his posts on Facebook receive thousands of reactions – mostly from his Vietnamese fans.

Vietnam remains a gamble for competitors.

A marathon, which usually lasts at least two hours for top-level runners, inherently carries risks as it challenges a person’s physical and mental limits.

Challenges confront African runners competing in Vietnam both during and after the race and throughout the many turns and turns their professional journey involves.

In March 2023, runners Kemboi Ezekiel from Kenya and Marta Tinsae Birehan from Ethiopia were full of hope on entering a race in Ho Chi Minh City after hearing that breaking the Vietnamese marathon record would win them a car. They discovered that the car prize was a one-time offer only available at the previous year’s race when they arrived in the country.

Despite their disappointment, both runners went on to compete. Marta unexpectedly collapsed while leading the women’s race, despite Ezekiel having little competition in the men’s race. She had mistakenly consumed an electrolyte drink at a water station, which upset her digestive system.

Even Kiptoo, who has won numerous Vietnam marathon championships and more experience, is unable to overcome difficulties. In late 2024, he was sponsored to compete in a marathon in Hanoi. A sponsor failed to register Kiptoo among the professional athletes competing due to a miscommunication. As a result, despite winning the marathon, Kiptoo only received an age-group prize of $200, rather than the $2, 100 winner’s takings. He claimed that “we all have to follow the rules,” and that he did not want to be upset about the outcome.

Running in the Ho Chi Minh City Marathon in December along an already familiar course and accustomed to the climate, Kiptoo cruised to victory over Keress and thousands of others to further cement his reign over the Vietnamese marathon scene.

Keress limped across the finish line, grimacing in pain, finishing just behind Kiptoo. He attributed his performance to fatigue from another recent marathon.

After receiving treatment in the recovery area, Keress’ pain subsided, but his frustration persisted until he realized he had won $1, 000 in prize money for third place, which helped him realize his goal of expanding his farm’s operation there. However, as his promoter will also take a cut of his winnings, his actual takings would not be so big.

The half marathon was won by his teammate Miko for $600.

Unpredictable risks

After their races, both runners were taken back to their hotel to rest before returning to Thailand, where they had been based for the previous six months in a training camp outside the capital, Bangkok. From travel and lodging to training plans, race entry and immigration visas, their Thai promoter is in charge of all aspects of their running careers in Southeast Asia.

For runners such as Keress and Miko, who have travelled little beyond their home countries, such management deals are indispensable. They described their Thai manager as a kind of father figure in an interview with Al Jazeera.

But the relationship seems closer to employee and employer, with the runners being very much bound by the overriding imperative of achieving good performance for their team and sponsor – in an unspoken power dynamic.

Keress and Miko described their plans to re-enteer Ethiopia and start living together.

They did not know how much prize money they would be bringing home with them as the cost of their travel expenses to competitions, accommodation and food are deducted from their winnings.

And not all marathons offer immediate pay for runners: some prizes take months to arrive, and many do not have financial security.

Despite the difficulty and uncertainty faced by prize-hunting runners in Vietnam, rumours about the country as a life-changing destination for athletes are spreading in East Africa, according to Kiptoo, Keress and others.

Kiptoo’s meager salary, which he earned before moving to Eldoret, in the Rift Valley region of Kenya, barely supported his family. Then COVID-19 hit and his family’s finances were devastated. He claimed that was the beginning of his commitment to running seriously as a means of escaping poverty.

His success in Vietnam has not only allowed him to support his family but also to buy several properties as investments in Kenya.

Kiptoo described how he never anticipated Vietnam to play such a significant role in his family’s daily life as an athlete.

“In Kenya, we watch a lot of Vietnamese films, but very few people actually know what the country is really like”, Kiptoo said.

At first, he didn’t know either.

Now with marathon running projected to continue growing in coming years, the draw of Vietnam for African runners is not likely to wane soon.

“Perspective more Kenyan athletes will visit this area in the future to compete in running competitions. But it’s not easy”, he said.