For years and even generations, quite many families have squeezed themselves into teeny houses in Ho Chi Minh City which are not recognizable as such at first glance or fit for human habitation.

Nguyen Thi Dung, 35, and her children have taken up residence in a dwelling, located in an alley on Nguyen Thi Minh Khai Street in District 3, over the past dozens of years.

As a Tuoi Tre (Youth) newspaper reporter dropped by their house one day, Dung’s youngest son and daughter – The Bao and Bao Ngoc – were lying prostrate on the floor to learn their lessons.

Bao and Ngoc are in their first and second grade.

Without being told, their elder brother, The Trung, who is in sixth grade, went to a neighbor’s so that the reporter could have room for a seat in his teensy house.

The ground floor of their house, which measures a mere 2.4 square meters in area, is where guests are entertained and the family members watch TV.

The narrow space can hardly fit the two sons for night sleep.

To save room, Dung hangs almost all household objects, ranging from clothes, bags to cooking utensils, on the walls.

As the bathroom – a tiny space which perches beneath the staircase – has no doors, Dung has to send her kids away whenever she or someone else takes a shower.

She and her youngest daughter sleep on the top floor, which is brimming with the family’s larger objects.

“We cannot buy anything bulky as we hardly afford sleeping space. Things were easier a few years ago when the kids were little, but they’ve all grown now. They scramble with one another often just for some room to sleep,” Dung lamented.

The stuffed space also affects their way of living.

Dung only prepares dinner at home, while she and her children eat out for breakfast and lunch.

She places her stove near the door, and the mother and kids make do with instant noodles if it rains torrentially.

Dung’s dwelling is erected on a teeny plot annexed to the house of her great maternal grandmother.

Her maternal grandparents and parents called the place home before handing it down to her.

Dung’s house could hardly accommodate her six children, so she has no option but to send them to different places.

“My eldest 18-year-old child lives with my ex-husband’s in-laws in District 6, while my second oldest is cared for by my own parents, who reside in [the Mekong Delta province of] Tra Vinh,” Dung said.

Nguyen Thi Tanh’s house with a staircase erected outside her house. Photo: Tuoi Tre

Her 14-year-old son has been in the custody of a childless neighbor since he was a little boy.

“I have no idea how I can manage the sleeping room as my mother plans to stay with us while she works as a domestic worker. Maybe I’ll spend my nights on a reclining chair put in front of my house,” she said.

Stifling nooks

A so-called house, at 151/35B Nguyen Trai Street in District 5, is not recognizable as such at first glimpse.

Nguyen Thi Tanh, the 72-year-old house owner, said her house is 1.2 meters in width and five meters in length.

Its rear area measures a mere palm span, or around 23 centimeters, in width.

The old lady and her four children would live in the house before.

Tanh, her youngest son, his wife and their two children now share the tiny space.

The teeny house is casually equipped with diminutive utensils, including a fan, light bulbs, a stove, and pots and pans.      

An iron bed, which is only 0.5 meters in width, is the house’s largest object.

Despite three fans which operate at maximum capacity, it is stifling hot inside the pint-sized house.

“We keep the door open in daytime, but shut it during the night. The suffocating, stale air makes it really difficult to fall asleep,” Tanh moaned.

The septuagenarian added she had the iron bed built as some students had agreed to rent part of her place.

However, the youngsters later changed their mind.

Tanh sadly said she has put her house up for sale, but no one is interested in it.

At another pint-sized house, at 56/69 Thich Quang Duc Street in Phu Nhuan District, Tran Van Do, 55, was preparing his dinner on a miniature stove, blocking the entire entrance to his house, the other day.

The width of his triangle-shaped house shrinks into a mere 30 centimeters at its rear.

With no curtains or partitions, one can see through at the stove and restroom.

The dwelling has been “home sweet home” to Do, his wife and two of their children.

Tran Van Do’s wife is seen preparing a meal inside her triangle-shaped house in Phu Nhuan District, Ho Chi Minh City. Photo: Tuoi Tre.

Their eldest son has lived in his grandparents’ place since he was little, while his younger siblings also do their studies there.

The house is lacking in even basic furnishings, such as dressers, chairs and tables, and beds and mattresses, except an old television set.

“The teensy house has never fitted five family members to sit down over a meal together,” Do said.

Similarly, Truong Minh Tuan and his son have been renting a house on Doan Van Bo Street in District 4 which is less than one meter wide and nearly two meters long.

They cannot even sit with ease or comfort inside the house, and can only lie vertically sleeping.

There is no restroom indoors.

Tuan, who peddles lottery tickets during the day, revealed he has never spent mornings or afternoons indoors, as it is smothering hot.

Pint-sized houses still common

The Ma Lang residential area, located on Nguyen Trai Street in District 1, is believed to have the highest concentration of pint-sized houses, which are separated from slightly larger houses.

The area, home to some hundred dwellers, is riddled with enlarged balconies which shield sunlight and make the already stifling air even staler.

Tran Thi Lan, 63, and nine other family members have been crowded into her 1.5m x 6m house, which has no restroom.

She and others have used a public restroom over the past dozens of years.

The only door to the house remains open around the clock throughout the year, as they can hardly breathe with the door shut.

Like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter to get the latest news about Vietnam!