The last fishing trip of the year.

(Baonghean)Boats returned in close proximity, their sails fluttering excitedly as they docked to welcome the Lunar New Year after a week at sea. Hundreds of white conical hats bobbed up and down, beneath which were the radiant faces of mothers and sisters. With nimble hands and hurried feet, some helped their husbands carry fish ashore, while others sorted the fish into different categories. In this coastal region, I also met young boat owners who dared to invest in powerful, high-horsepower vessels to venture further out to sea, bringing high economic returns to their families and society...

The boat returns to Dien Bich - Dien Chau wharf.

Dien Bich (Dien Chau) has over 200 fishing boats, with more than 60 having a capacity of 90 horsepower or more. Without a proper fishing dock, the people of Dien Bich choose a river channel as their mooring place. On a late winter day, the golden sunlight gently spread across the water. The road down to the riverbank was bustling with vehicles and people, the air filled with the sounds of people calling out to each other. Boats crowded the riverbank. Despite the low temperature, the fishermen, bare-chested and tanned from the sun and wind, were still working. I met a woman, around 35 years old, quickly rolling up her sleeves, scooping up handfuls of fresh, green fish to weigh for the fish traders in the district. Her face was flushed and dotted with sweat. The Chairman of the Dien Bich Commune People's Committee, Pham Van Hung, introduced her to me: "This is Ms. Dang Thi Thanh, wife of boat owner Pham Van Tien from Chien Thang village. Mr. Tien 'dared' to borrow money to invest in a pair of 200-horsepower boats worth over 1 billion dong." Each year, the couple earns hundreds of millions of dong from their fishing trips. Hearing this, Ms. Thanh smiled, wiped away the sweat, and enthusiastically said, "That's just Mr. Tien encouraging us, but in our village, there are plenty of big-time owners who bought large, multi-million-dong boats many years before us." I asked her, "So, how was your income from this year-end fishing trip?" At this point, Ms. Thanh had finished weighing the fish for the traders, and quickly fanned and grilled them, replying, "This trip yielded 7 tons of various kinds of fish. That's lucky. Getting so much fish makes me so happy I forget all the fatigue."

Mr. Pham Van Tien, Ms. Thanh's husband, has a tanned complexion and a sturdy build. I wonder if it's because he endured countless hardships in his youth, making him look older than his 40s, or if that's typical of all fishermen in coastal villages? He cheerfully joined the conversation, his voice booming, characteristic of those who live by the waves and speak with the wind: "That last fishing trip of the year was lucky. If we had listened to your mother that day..." Then, turning to us, he explained: "She told us to wait until the cold front arrived before going out, because it's very cold out at sea." The five of us on the boat thought differently: "Who knows, maybe God and the sea will be merciful and we'll have a big catch on this last trip of the old year." Besides, everyone in the village was busy preparing supplies for their husbands and sons, placing all their hopes on this last fishing trip of the year for a more prosperous Tet holiday. Despite what she said, seeing that her husband had made up his mind, my wife didn't argue further. She busily prepared vegetables, rice, salt, and new nets... while the other women carried water and stones onto the boat. It was really cold those days. After sailing a few nautical miles, my crew and I were shivering. But we were used to it. We're fishermen, you know, "When our boat goes out to sea, we don't mind the rain or the sun."

This fishing trip lasted only 7 days (2 to 3 days shorter than other trips), yet Mr. Tien's boat hit a school of fish, bringing back nearly 7 tons. He boasted that many other boats were as lucky as his. Everyone was very excited about this trip. I asked, "Do you remember your first fishing trip?" While busily cleaning the boat, he confided, "The life of a fisherman has been with me since I was very young. I remember when I was only 4, I followed my grandfather down to the boat to ask to go fishing. He just laughed, saying it was childish, but he occasionally let me go down to the boat to play. One day, my grandfather and father were preparing their equipment for a trip out to sea, and I insisted, 'I want to learn how to fish from Grandpa so that someday I can buy my own big boat, hire fishermen, and not be like Grandpa and Dad who fish for hire.'"

Back then, perhaps the eagerness to go out to sea stemmed from… curiosity. And I was quite daring. When I was five, one day, during the last fishing trip of the year, I secretly hid in the cabin of Captain Hung's boat. I stood there until the boat cut through the waves for quite a while. I looked out at the sea and saw that it was starting to get dark before I dared to step out and admit my mistake. I had prepared myself for being scolded and punished, but to my surprise, the whole crew applauded. That trip was a great success for the boat. Everyone went home very excited, saying that perhaps the little boy had good luck at sea. "So you weren't worried that everyone at home would be anxiously looking for you?" I asked. Tien laughed: "Back then, I made a promise to my older sister: 'When the boat starts its engine, tell Mom that when I get the money Grandpa gives me for Tet, I'll let you buy some balloons.'" So that's how Tien's first fishing trip turned out!

Before officially becoming a fisherman, Mr. Tien spent several years working in coffee plantations in the South to save up capital for his dream of returning home and venturing out to sea with his family. He endured countless hardships, working tirelessly amidst vast coffee plantations, forgetting to eat and sleep, all while thinking about owning his own boat. Upon returning home, he and his brothers initially pooled their resources to buy a small boat, but found it ineffective; some trips were unprofitable, even resulting in fuel costs. So, Mr. Tien boldly discussed with his wife the possibility of borrowing billions of dong to build a large vessel. His wife worried, "With such a large loan, when will you ever pay it back?" But he remained determined, borrowing from banks, relatives, and friends to build the boat and continue his fishing career. Now, with his two large boats, he earns a profit of 200 to 300 million dong annually from his fishing trips. In addition, he provides stable income of 3 to 4 million dong per person for five other workers – his relatives – who earn a steady income of 3 to 4 million dong per trip.

While we were chatting happily, Mrs. Thanh finished fanning the baskets of grilled fish. She separated each type of fish and said to her husband, "This fish will be offered to our ancestors on the evening of the 30th and during the Tet holidays, this one will be taken to Vinh early tomorrow morning as a gift for the aunts, and this one is fish ordered by someone for Tet."

After saying goodbye to Mr. Tien and Mrs. Thanh, I followed the bustling crowd, carrying heavy loads of fresh fish on my shoulders, to the riverbank where buying and selling was in full swing. Mr. Hoang Van Liem, a young boat owner in his 30s from Bac Chien Thang hamlet, shared Mr. Tien's joy, excitedly boasting: "This last trip of the year is a blessing from God for the fishermen of this coastal village. At first, we saw the monsoon winds, then the bitter cold, and with more than ten days left until the end of the old year, staying home for so long was unsettling, so we decided to brave the cold..." Mr. Liem's ​​boat also harvested over 7 tons of fish. He stood by the riverbank for a while, his phone ringing incessantly. He explained: “As soon as the boats return, people start asking to buy and placing orders for fish constantly. We had 7 tons of fish, and all the orders for mackerel and scad were gone in a flash. Only a few small fish were left that hadn't been grilled yet. It's known that buying and selling is very brisk at the end of the year. Sellers are generous, and buyers rarely haggle. Mr. Liem said that on previous year's last fishing trips, boats often ran aground at Lach Van and couldn't get in, so they had to return to Cua Lo in a line. Some boats sold their fish right in Cua Lo, while others transported the fish to sell according to pre-arranged plans. It was a bit inconvenient, but they had to accept it; that's why people say 'there are fishing seasons.' This year, luckily, the tides were favorable. The boats arrived right at the Dien Bich riverbank.”

Mr. Pham Van Hung added: With over 200 boats and ships, the annual catch is 7,000-8,000 tons, bringing the total annual revenue from fish in the entire commune to over 100 billion VND. These figures are thanks to the fishermen's confidence in staying at sea and their bold investment in large-capacity vessels to venture further offshore. Most families with large-capacity boats earn hundreds of millions of VND in profit each year. The impoverished and dilapidated fishing villages are now just a thing of the past.

Despite their bravery and resilience at sea, the people of Dien Bich live together with deep affection, maintaining the traditions of their homeland passed down through generations. They say to each other: "The village may be small, but human kindness is abundant." Even though everyone goes to sea, at the end of the year they still share the bounty of the sea – the finest fish. Then they gather to wrap and cook sticky rice cakes (banh chung), and when the cakes are cooked, the New Year's Eve moment begins!

Thu Huong