Over the last few months, many Saigonese have seen a motorbike taxi driver carrying a baby strapped to his chest. Some photographs of the father and the baby have gone viral on social media.

Tran Nguyen Thien Nhan, all of eight months old, has become a working companion for his father, 38-year-old Nguyen Trung Hieu.

After borrowing some money from the bank to invest in a business, Hieu and his wife lost everything when the business failed. The couple rents a studio apartment and the financial burden became too much to bear, with the wife jobless and the baby needing a caretaker if they wanted to go out and work.

Hieu as a motorbike taxi driver for ride-hailing firm Grab, and his eight-month-old son on a Saigon’s street. Photo courtesy of Hieu’s passenger.

Recently, Hieu’s wife found a job and started working as a sales staff at a local supermarket. Her mother is old and not strong to take care of two grandkids, so she looks after her three-year-old older grandson. Hieu’s 70-year-old mother is still busy selling lottery tickets on the streets.

“We have no choice. So I have to take our youngest child with me. If my wife works in the morning, I take care of him at that time,” Hieu said.

The father spent almost a month to prepare for his little son’s first trip with him. He bought clothes, diapers, milk, raincoat, towels for the boy for the three hours. Rainy days are more challenging since the raincoat does not afford total protection against strong downpours.

As he takes his passengers to their destinations, Hieu keeps a watchful eye on his son. Sometimes, he takes Nhan to places with some shade to protect him from prolonged exposure to sunlight, so the baby gets some rest.

If his wife goes to work in the evening, Hieu and Nhan venture out from around 5 p.m. to 9 p.m.

“It is hot these days, and sometimes he cries. I feel sad, but I have no choice. If he cries too much, I turn off the application and go home,” Hieu said.

Having a baby along makes it more difficult to work, sometimes. Many customers have refused to get on Hieu’s bike after seeing the baby.

“Since I started taking my son to work, passengers have reacted differently. Everyone is surprised, some feel sorry and show care, others get annoyed and cancel the ride,” Hieu said.

Some patrons have talked about the father-son duo on social media, and this has also attracted both positive and negative comments. Many people say Hieu is melodramatic and playing the sympathy card.

“The family is in poverty; and I am forced to take my son to work,” he said. Although a teacher told me not to care about what other people say, I spend sleepless nights thinking how to earn money and bring up my children properly.”

On July 6, the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Department of Homeland Security (DHS) announced the new regulation, subjecting international students to deportation if they did not attend classes on campus as universities grappled with the question of whether or not to reopen during the pandemic. The new visa rule dumped over 1.1 million international students in the U.S. into quagmire.

Ton Hien Anh, student at Harvard University, did not worry too much since she had registered for a repatriation flight back to Vietnam in August. But witnessing her friends stretch themselves thin as travel restrictions stop many from going home, Anh knew she “must do something.”

Right after learning about the new ICE visa rule, she stayed up all night to research its effects on international students. After, she wrote to the university, asking it to safeguard student rights.

Ton Hien Anh at Harvard University. Photo by La Thanh Ha.

On behalf of international students stranded in America, she sent her letter to the university’s Board of Overseers. In the meantime, she talked with organizations and individuals, encouraging them to use the letter she prepared to show their support.

On the morning of July 7, the university held an urgent meeting. The dean responded to Anh’s email, telling her Harvard would officially sue ICE.

Different from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), one of the first institutions suing ICE, Harvard University will go 100 percent online in fall. While ICE gave universities 10 days to change their plan for the upcoming semester, no one knew how long the lawsuit would last before the judge’s final decision.

Anh, one more time, worked against the clock to suggest the university organize on-campus courses so international students could join and maintain their visa status.

The Vietnamese student studied how other universities were reacting to the new visa rules, policies of 15 institutions holding on-campus courses, and over 30 student movements calling universities to mitigate the rule’s negative effects.

“I was researching and receiving feedback from friends, alumnus, and professors who cared about this matter to complete the letter and call for more support,” Anh said.

In her open petition, she summarizes the consequences international students at Harvard would have to face if ICE won the lawsuit. Accordingly, they could be deported or have their visas revoked if they overstayed in America. Many countries have closed their borders amid the pandemic, placing many students into a dilemma. Besides, traveling across country also poses Covid-19 infection risks.

Anh poposed several feasible solutions for Harvard, affordable and easy to carry out without violating social distancing rules, such as organizing on-campus courses. She mentioned several universities in the Ivy League that will run on-campus activities in fall, such as Princeton and Yale. Other institutions like Colombia University and UC Berkeley added on-campus courses to their programs right after ICE released the new visa rules.

At the end of her open letter, she quoted university president Lawrence Bacow stating: “We will not stand by to see our international students’ dreams extinguished by a deeply misguided order. We owe it to them to stand up and to fight, and, we will.”

In the first 20 hours, the petition attracted over 1,000 signatures from Harvard professors, universities, and alumni, including more than 50 presidents and management board members of organizations within the university.

Dean Rakesh Khurana of Harvard College said he had submitted Anh’s letter to the Board of Overseers to consider plans for the fall semester, thanking the Vietnamese student for raising her voice.

On July 8, Harvard and MIT officially sued the administration, attracting dozens of universities, state authorities, and tech companies to join the fight by opposing the new visa rules, which were rescinded on July 15 after a federal court hearing.

Right after, David C. Lamberth, professor of Philosophy and Theology at Harvard, sent an email to Anh, telling her he was delighted about the government’s new decision.

“The wide range of voices from all across the country, from students, faculty, universities and industry all came together in less than a week, and the kind of self-advocacy you did contribute in no small part,” he told her.

The fight was not full of roses. Anh faced several challenges while calling for support. Many did not understand the law or the reasons why they should care about international students. Some, including professors, even told her to keep quiet.

To Hien Anh (second from left) and her family at her sister’s graduation in the U.S. Photo by La Thanh Ha.

Her mother was like a cat on hot bricks after learning her little daughter was standing up to the American school.

“She is just an international student, how can she talk with university leaders. I was worried she would be deported,” said La Thanh Ha, Anh’s mother.

But the Vietnamese student is a real fighter.

“I want to bring voices from the Harvard community to university leaders. I want to help them have a comprehensive understanding of what would happen if international students are sent home amid the pandemic,” she told her mother, who later gave her 100 percent support.

Anh is not the first in her family to go to Harvard on a full scholarship. Her elder sister, Ton Ha Anh, also attended the 384-year-old university and now works as a senior business analyst at American management consulting firm McKinsey in New York.

While Ha Anh is more sociable, Hien Anh is more introverted and has a passion for social activities to demand justice for the underprivileged. She is a member of the management board of a school organization which has been raising money for over 100 eye operations for poor children and supplying food and shelter to the homeless.

Last semester, Hien Anh was one of the top students in her class. Bonnie Talbert, a lecturer in Social Studies, impressed after reading her final paper about racism in America and the Black Lives Matter movement, sent the paper to Dean Rakesh Khurana.

Now, nearly everyone knows about the Vietnamese student who raised her voice to protect international students at Harvard.

Early morning one day in the middle of July Toan folds his blankets and steps outside to catch some sun.

After spending eight days in the emergency room with oxygen therapy, the man who feared he would die of the novel coronavirus can now enjoy the summer breeze back home in Vietnam.

“In the last seven months I have experienced many things and realized that life is strange and beautiful simultaneously,” the 42-year-old engineer says.

Born in Hanoi, he now lives in Saigon’s District 4 and works for a project funded by the Bangladesh government and the World Bank.

After the Lunar New Year in January, the chief consultant to the mechanical engineering team left for the Bangladeshi capital Dhaka, hoping to return to Vietnam on February 28. But a visa issue caused him to miss the return flight, which was then postponed to March 26.

But that did not go too well either.

In late March the first Covid-19 case was confirmed in Bangladesh, and the government decided to impose a lockdown to contain the pandemic. On March 26, the day of his flight, the country suspended flights to all countries except the U.K. and China.

Toan’s group, which had four people in the beginning, grew larger after 11 more Vietnamese from construction sites across Dhaka came. The 15, comprising three women, shared a 250-square-meter apartment.

Without enough beds in the four-bedroom apartment, some had to sleep on the floor. Stranded, with no idea when they could come return home, and anxiety due to the raging pandemic stressed some of them out, and arguments and conflicts broke out constantly.

Toan, understanding that people were worried because they did not know when they could return to Vietnam, tried to comfort his fellows but also told them to stop fretting to reassure their families. After the first week things got better as they realized they had no choice but to put up with the hardship.

Nguyen Quoc Toan works out on the roof of his house while stranded in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Photo courtesy of Nguyen Quoc Toan.

Dividing themselves into groups of three to five people to cook and clean, they bought gloves, protective clothes and face masks for those going out to shop. They went to the supermarket once every four days. When there was too much to carry, they would rent a trolley to bring the stuff home.

Toan was working and reporting to his manager, and spending time reading and working out. Every day he would exercise looking at a YouTube video and jog on the roof, and urge his housemates to join.

The rooftop quickly became their favorite place as they worked out and watched planes fly in the sky, nursing their dreams of returning home.

After more than 100 days they were told there would be a flight to Vietnam on July 2. But the good news from the Vietnamese embassy was quickly replaced by bad: Covid-19 had arrived at their apartment.

On June 24 one of the group got a fever. Within five days 14 or 15 of them had Covid-19 symptoms like fever, body ache and tiredness.

“We did not think we could be infected since we were taking serious precautions,” Toan recalls.

They bought medicines, made soup to be given as comfort food, used homemade herbal steam baths, and took care of each other.

The fever vanished after two days, giving them reason to believe it was just the flu.

At 10 p.m. on July 2 they were taken to Dhaka airport in protective clothes.

Nguyen Quoc Toan’s group prepares to leave for home from Bangladesh on July 2, 2020. Photo courtesy of Nguyen Quoc Toan.

Toan, following his long journey from Dhaka to Van Don International Airport in Quang Ninh Province in northern Vietnam and transfer to a quarantine facility in Thanh Hoa Province, almost passed out of dehydration.

The next morning medical workers came to take their samples for testing. On July 5 the results came, and 14 of them had Covid-19.

They were taken to the National Hospital for Tropical Diseases in Hanoi immediately. That night Toan felt his body ache, and he struggled to breathe. All he could eat was soup.

The next day doctors decided to put him in the emergency room as his oxygen level was too low.

“You must breath on your own to increase your oxygen level,” they told him.

Doctors and nurses were around him that night, but the machine indicated that his oxygen level went too low every 10 minutes.

The doctors told him to get down on his knees and lie face down to breathe, but the exhausted Toan could not remain in that position for long.

“You must try, you must breathe on your own.”

“I can only kneel, I have no energy,” he complained.

The next morning he felt better, but doctors told him his lungs were severely damaged by an acute complication caused by the virus.

“You have to try to eat no matter how tired or uncomfortable you are,” they told him explaining he had to keep his strength up.

Nguyen Quoc Toan recovered after spending several days in the emergency room at the National Hospital for Tropical Diseases in Hanoi. Photo courtesy of Nguyen Quoc Toan.

Toan, despite his constant headache and 39-degree Celsius fever and sometimes bloody sputum in the mouth, never skipped a meal.

After three nights without sleep, his condition got better. On July 15, after eight days of fighting with death, he could finally be taken off the ventilator and discharged from the emergency room.

After losing eight kilograms in 15 days since contracting the disease, he tested negative for the first time. He was so happy that he began to write poetry, something he had never done before.

He had been speaking with friends and colleagues around the world, and they had constantly encouraged him to fight the deadly virus.

He now wants to spend more time with his family, especially his two young daughters. He plans to meet and thank all the doctors and nurses who helped him get well when they can finally discard their protective clothing for good.

“The most valuable thing we have is not a mountain of cash or a massive house, it is our health and the safety of our family,” Toan wrote on his Facebook page, saying the Covid-19 infection and the hardship he suffered made him realize those things.

For Nam Bui, a Melbourne resident for over 10 years, the second lockdown “resembles a dream since everything got upturned.”

Since Wednesday, Melbourne, Australia’s second largest city, and capital of Victoria, will be locked down for six weeks as authorities try to prevent a second wave of coronavirus infection following a record rise in daily cases across the state.

Restaurants and cafes will only sell takeaway food, while gyms, beauty salons, and cinemas will be closed again. Nearly five million people will no longer be allowed to leave their homes unless it’s for grocery shopping, caregiving, exercise or work.

The whole state of Victoria was placed under strict lockdown in early March, seriously affecting those working in the hospitality and restaurant industry like Nam as the number of customers fell sharply, leading to a decrease in his income.

In mid-May, Nam felt happy and relieved as the Australian government relaxed lockdown measures, allowing restaurants to reopen and his job started returning to normal.

However, Victoria has been facing a second Covid-19 outbreak, prompting the government to reimpose a lockdown on metropolitan Melbourne and some parts of the state to contain the flare-up of cases.

Australia has so far reported over 9,300 infections and 106 deaths.

“Luckily, I work different shifts at more than one restaurant. My income is still fine even though I’m struggling to survive the pandemic,” Nam said.

Nhung Le Farrell, manager of a restaurant at Melbourne Airport, has not been able to return to work since April 23. Melbourne Airport was planning to resume flights on July 17 when the second lockdown order suddenly changed everything.

Victoria closed the border with neighboring New South Wales, isolating itself to curb the spread of the disease.

“I’m sad Melbourne is under lockdown again,” said Nhung, a resident since 2012. “95 percent of flights were cut, the airport was empty and restaurants closed their doors because there were no customers.”

“My income has reduced by 90 percent,” Nhung said, adding as a permanent resident, she was fortunate to receive government support for those affected by the Covid-19 pandemic. Only permanent residents or Australian citizens are eligible for the government support package.

Nhung takes advantage of this opportunity to spend most of the time at home with her 3-year-old son. Her husband, a high school teacher, still goes to work because high school seniors must continue their learning program.

For many, the Covid-19 pandemic has taken a heavy toll on livelihoods.

Lan Huong Tierney, owner of a wedding dress shop in Melbourne, also lives amid worry and stress.

“My shop was closed for several months, reopening just as the new lockdown was imposed,” Huong said.

“I certainly support the decision to place the city under lockdown since human life comes first. The unemployed, like me, are also supported by the government. However, I am still worried about the future as my income has been greatly reduced.”

Huong’s husband and children are now studying and working online from home. Prior to the renewed lockdown, her family restricted going out to avoid large crowds, with the Australian government yet to contain the pandemic.

“During the first lockdown, which lasted two months, people rushed to hoard necessities, but this time most only stock up for a week to limit going out,” she said.

Like Huong, Nam now hardly stores any goods as supermarkets remain open. “It is really sad that Melbourne has to reimpose the lockdown, but it was necessary to completely stamp out the coronavirus outbreak,” he maintained.

Nam blamed the recurrence of the second wave for slack anti-pandemic measures and poor public awareness.

Australia only encourages people to wear masks in public, though they scarce and very expensive, at up to $25-30 a box.”

I worried about my health amid the Covid-19 outbreak. Hopefully, thanks to strict police inspection, residents will comply with anti-pandemic measures, and the crisis would soon pass,” Nam added.

Huong also wishes the pandemic would end soon, though she accepts she will have to deal with its impacts until that time comes.

Van, CEO and a co-founder of the Will to Live Center, was born with spinal muscular atrophy, but she never let it stop her from chasing her dreams. Based on her brother’s suggestion “to train disabled people, show them how to use technology and English to connect with the world,” she founded the center in 2003.

She told the BBC: “We have had more than 1,000 graduates, 80 to 90 percent of them are now employed. Some of them are their family’s breadwinners.”

Van Thi Nguyen and her husband. Photo by VnExpress/Phan Duong.

Van, 33, wants the environment in Vietnam to enable people with talent and devotion to develop, “instead of people feeling like they need to move abroad to use their skills.”

Seeking to create an equal working environment for everyone, she also runs social enterprise Imagator, which employs 80 people, half of them disabled.

The other Vietnamese in the list, Trang, is a wildlife conservationist. Growing up in Vietnam and seeing from a young age monkeys chained up for sale on the streets and bears held to extract bile, she travels to preservation sites, safaris and national parks to save animals.

Trang, 29, is also the founder of WildAct, that monitors the illegal wildlife trade and organizes education programs for youth.

“For the future of nature conservation, it is important that women’s voices are heard and their actions are recognized,” the BBC quoted Trang as saying.

Last year she won the nature conservation prize, the Future For Nature Award, and was nominated for the Women of the Future Awards Southeast Asia for her contribution in global wildlife conservation.

Trang at Burger Zoo, Netherlands. Photo courtesy of Trang Nguyen.

The BBC’s annual list, which this year poses the question what the future would look like if it were driven by women, also includes U.S. congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Mexican Oscar nominee Yalitza Aparicio, and Swedish climate change activist Greta Thunberg.

So serious that she’s still there, in love, and enjoying life.

Iranian summers are never easy, with temperatures going up to 50 degrees Celsius (122F), but Do Lenh Hoai Anh, one of few Vietnamese women, if not the only one in the northwestern province of Qazvin, leaves the house without a qualm, covered in 3 layers of outfit, from top to toe.

“Many local women want to explode due to the strict rules of dressing here, but I just love this culture and I wrap my outer garments around myself more carefully than many of them,” she said.

This was an unimaginable situation five years ago.

After finishing her bachelor’s degree in international relations in Ho Chi Minh City, Hoai Anh accidentally learnt about a 6-month scholarship program in Iran. Applying “just for fun,” she planned to return to Vietnam and pursue a career in education.

But, as the Yiddish proverb goes, “Man plans, god laughs.”

“The mysterious land and an Iranian man held me back”, Anh said. The man is Amir Hossein, the 30-year-old director of a travel company in Qazvin.

Hoai Anh and her husband Amir Hossein. Photo coutersy of Hoai Anh.

Hoai Anh still remembers the difficulties she faced when she started a new life in the Iran’s northwestern city (in the eponymous province). She confined herself completely to the university, since her Iranian was not good.

In spite of following all the dress rules, she was questioned by security guards as well as policemen. It turned out that her clothes were not thick enough. Eventually, Anh had to throw all of the clothes she bought in Vietnam away.

In such conditions, Anh was the only Vietnamese to stay. Her two friends left for home right after the 6-month course. With no admission letter from the university, no place to stay and having little money, she ate bread the whole week.

“I did not dare to go out, I was lonely and scared so I cried”, she remembered.

Once the admission letter arrived, and she knew more about the local language and local people, Anh started exploring the land of a “One Thousand and One Nights”.

In November 2016, on a hiking trip with some friends, she met Amir Hossein, a helpful and friendly tour guide.

“I wanted to know more about her at first sight. I wondered how she could live 1.5 years in Iran on her own,” Hossein said.

Commonly, Iranian men do not ask for contacts of other women. But Amir could not help asking for Anh’s number after the trip. He talked to her and helped her learn Iranian. After 6 months, with the excuse that Anh’s place was on his way to work, Amir often drove her to school and introduced her to people as his girlfriend.

However, he had not said those three magic words.

Anh was confused, she was not sure about his affection for her. One day, she tested it by inviting a male friend to join her for a trekking trip. Amir duly went green with envy. He kept texting and complaining during the entire trip.

The next day, he told her, “Be my girlfriend. Seeing you going with another guy makes me miserable.”

Anh later found out that Amir had been hesitant because he was afraid of an “easy come, easy go” relationship.

A pre-marital relationship is taboo in traditional Muslim societies, so Anh was always scared. “When we were together, we always kept a distance, there were no hugs and kisses”, she said. Furthermore, they could not sit next to each other in coffee shops, cinemas or cars.

“The most intimate moment was when he drove me to the university and parked in front of the dormitory for a couple of minutes, or when I tried to sneak into his room without his parents’ knowing. I like those moments, they were adventurous and helped maintain the connection between us,” Anh said.

She also remembers being frustrated sometimes because she could not show her affection freely. Amir understood it and tried to make his “stubborn” girlfriend feel better by treating her with great courtesy and care.

Amir’s affection also helped Anh to break her own taboos. She was always turned off when men mentioned starting a business, being influenced by her family to think the worthwhile thing to do was to work in the education or medical sectors.

“You are qualified to reach your goal, but you need more motivation. That is me,” said Amir, encouraging her to start a business.

He brought his country’s specialties to Vietnam and showed his sweetheart how to attract customers and connect with Iranian enterprises.

“Being in a (U.S.) sanctioned country makes it difficult for Iran to join business activities. Sometimes Anh wanted to give up, but we overcame all of those challenges,” Amir said.

After 2 years, Anh established an agency distributing Iranian products in Ho Chi Minh City. She bought a house and a car and will have a master’s degree in English-Persian translation in the near future.

“I have achievements to show my parents, thanks to Amir,” she said.

Hoai Anh and Amir Hossein officially received their marriage license on September 3, 2019. Photo coutersy of Amir Hossein.

In the summer of 2018, Amir introduced his girlfriend to his family, after 1.5 years of dating in secret. They tied the knot last September, and Hoai Anh officially had her Iranian name and marriage license.

The husband’s family could not be happier.

“Thank you for becoming my daughter-in-law,” Amir’s mother told Anh. The Vietnamese woman could not hold back her tears as the family celebrated the wedding with one party after another.

“Public gathering and activities are not encouraged here, so these parties are how we entertain ourselves. To Iranians, family comes first,” Amir said.

Hoai Anh knows there will be more challenges in the future, but is confident of overcoming them, as a Vietnamese and an Iranian.

The photo was shortlisted as one of the most striking submissions by the Chartered Institution of Water and Environmental Management (Ciwem) for its Ciwem Environmental Photographer of The Year 2019 award.

“Sewing Net,” taken by Tran Tuan Viet, shows a woman sewing a massive fishing net in the central province of Phu Yen.

Sewing Net. Photo by Ciwem/Tran Tuan Viet.

“As fish stocks decrease, fishing methods become increasingly extreme. Destructive fishing with small-hole nets devastates the marine environment,” U.K. newspaper The Guardian said on its website, commenting on Viet’s photograph. A similar comment was carried by The Times while introducing the photo.

Contest organizers said that this year’s contest submissions, while showing “the terrible impacts being wrought on our planet by humans, also celebrate humanity’s innate ability to survive and innovate, lending hope to us all that we can overcome challenges to live sustainably”.

The contest’s winner, announced September 25 alongside the UN Climate Action Summit taking place in New York, was India’s Shanth Kumar. His photo shows a huge wave lashing a shanty town in Mumbai, India, throwing a 40-year old fisherman out of his home.