Kinh Van Nguyen, 69, sits in his captain’s chair aboard the Angela, his thick, wrinkled hands folded on his belly. He peers through the scuffed windshield of the wheelhouse that sits atop the 60-foot fishing boat moored with others at a Chalmette pier.

His fishing boat, and the others, have been stuck there for more than a month, ever since BP’s Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded, causing thousands of barrels of the molasses-like toxic liquid to gush from the depths of the Gulf in what is becoming known as one of the the greatest man-made ecological catastrophe in U.S. history.

And he hasn’t made a dollar since.

Nguyen said, he and his wife, two of his 10 children and extended family now “have to eat very sparingly, until we get by.”

The disaster hits especially hard since it has come at the busiest, most profitable time of the year for fishermen, when typically “it’s about working day and night,’’ Nguyen said through an interpreter.

The spill has affected an estimated 13,000 commercial licensed fishermen in Louisiana, not including deckhands and crew, according to the Louisiana State Department of Wildlife and Fisheries.

An estimated one-third of those fishermen are immigrants from Southeast Asia. Many like Nguyen, speak little or no English, and face the third major upheaval of their lives.

Their families had to start over in 1975 when they migrated to Louisiana from Vietnam. They had to rebuild after Hurricane Katrina. And now, after a lifetime of fishing, their livelihood is uncertain.

“It’s really hard for us now and in the future,” said Eagle Mai, 45, who traveled from Houma to Westwego on Monday for a claims and health fair sponsored by U.S. Rep. Anh “Joseph” Cao, R-La., at the Alario Center.

Thien Nguyen, 49, a boat captain from New Orleans East, said, “Since the oil spill, we’re stuck. We cannot work. “Sometimes I’m upset with BP, but I worry. I worry for my life.”

Thien Nguyen, no relation to Kinh Nguyen, said he received his first claims payment from BP of $5,000. The amounts paid depend on whether one is a boat owner, captain or a deckhand. But his monthly expenses, including boat payments, total $9,000.

He said he can live for three months off his savings, but doesn’t know what he’ll do after that.

Nhat Tran, 48, of Westwego, said he’s already relying on friends to get by. As a deckhand, he was paid $1,000 by BP as a first claims payment, he said, but that’s simply not enough for Tran, who’s now borrowing money from friends to survive.

Jennifer Linh Vu, an aide to Congressman Cao and an interpreter for the event Monday, said the uncertainty is having a profound effect on the fishermen.

“It’s really rare for Vietnamese older men to actually show any kind of emotion because of their pride and the culture – I’ve seen them on the verge of tears, asking how they’re going to pay for their house, how they’re going to pay for their boat, their kids’ education. And then they’re like, in a month or two, how am I going to feed my family?”

She added the congressman “actually had a few people come to him and declare they want to commit suicide.”

The focus now for Cao’s office, which has partnered with Vietnamese nonprofits on the east side, is to help the fishermen understand their legal rights and how to file loss of income claims, while identifying the resources available.

At the event on Monday, not only were there volunteer interpreters to translate the briefing session, but other interpreters for the Vessels of Opportunity training session, which certifies fishermen to help with the oil cleanup, were offered. Tulane University provided a portable health unit on site for free health care for fishermen and their families. Catholic Charities donated food vouchers and state disaster food stamps were available.

Linh Vu said Cao’s initiative for the rapid-response team included representatives from his office and from two nonprofits in the east, Vietnamese American Young Leaders Association and Mary Queen of Vietnam Church Community Development Corp.

They’re traveling to places like New Orleans East, Houma and Venice to inform fishermen about the latest oil spill developments. They also assess the needs of the community and mediate with BP and government agencies on behalf of community members.

The fishermen face myriad obstacles, including lack of fluency in English, lack of understanding about the legal process and an innate distrust of government, Linh Vu said.

“I would say that coming from a communist country where government was rocky, they don’t really understand or trust the government. They don’t understand the resources that they have.”

Christina Wadwani, a community organizer for Mary Queen of Vietnam CDC, said her group has trained 15 Vietnamese to be claims interpreters in hopes that BP will hired them as claims agents. They’ve also identified one community member as a potential claims trainer.

“It’s taking small steps,” she said. “We have to push them to hire soon. The process will happen, but it’s just slow.”

Even fishermen who have gone through the certification training with interpreters for the Vessels of Opportunity program are not guaranteed work. Thien Nguyen and Toan Tran both have been certified; neither has been hired.

BP  “called me for stand-by,” said Toan Tran, “but I’m waiting for 10 days already, and they didn’t phone yet. I don’t know how long I will wait for more.”

Linh Vu said the Vietnamese community in New Orleans East has an advantage over other smaller, more dispersed communities.

In the secluded Vietnamese neighborhood on Chef Menteur Highway near Michoud Avenue, the Mary Queen of Vietnam Church anchors a community where three generations of Vietnamese families live amid a cluster of Vietnamese businesses and rows of bungalow houses – some with fishing boats parked in the driveways.

The residents here get information more easily through the church, she said. That’s where Kinh Nguyen gets his oil spill news.

Up the street at Kinh Nguyen’s modest home, his nets, boots and storage containers sit idle in the back of his pickup truck. Everything is ready to go, but there’s no work, said Nguyen, who’s been fishing all his life.

As the oil continues to spew, the long-term impact on all Gulf fishermen is uncertain, especially for those who don’t speak English, who are not educated and have been fishing all their lives, like Nguyen.

Advocates are thinking about the next step. “We’re going to need funds for job creation,” said Song Park, a community activist for VAYLA.

But as Linh Vu pointed out, that’s easier said than done for the older fishermen: “Many of them, when you look – they’re like, 50, 60, 70. How are they going to learn English and start again here?” she said.

“After the Vietnam War, they did it once, moving here to America. “So after Hurricane Katrina, they came back very quickly, I’d have to say, successfully. The thing is, they’re going through the same experience now.”

Linh Vu said Cao’s office is working on next steps: “Right now, we don’t have the answers.”

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