The End of the River Giang

(Baonghean) - The boatman did not start the engine but leaned back and used both feet to paddle out to the middle of the river junction. He had a somewhat wild and dusty appearance, but if you looked closely, his face was very funny. He did not show any reluctance when I asked for a ride, even though the sun was almost overhead. "Wherever you want to go, I will take you. It's no problem" - He said concisely as if to dispel my embarrassment.

A section of the Giang River. Photo: Sach Nguyen

It was not until I sat on the bow of the boat and reached the middle of the river, looking out in all four directions, that I could see more clearly the strangeness of this legendary river junction. While the Lam River water was red and turbulent like a waterfall after the days of upstream floods, right there, the Giang River was still clear blue and gently merging into the big water like a gentle hand wanting to comfort the eldest brother returning after a fierce and arduous journey.

Someone poetically said: The Giang River is the distillation of the tears of suffering and resentment of countless lives in the Southwest region of Nghe An, where there is the great Pu Mat forest, so the water is so clear. Regardless of the poeticization of everything by those who go to the river, in reality the Giang River is associated with the historical tragedy of a clan that, until now, that ethnic group still exists with a vague legend. That is the story of "golden bamboo" which is familiar when telling about the Dan Lai ethnic group in Con Cuong.

Just want to add that, hundreds of years of the Dan Lai people living in isolation in the deep forest has turned a lowland clan into a lost people while life has changed in many ways. And the unwanted thing has happened, the incestuous marriages have made this people stand on the brink of extinction. And why are the Dan Lai people not considered an independent people like the Thai and Mong people? Because they have absolutely no unique values. They are all mixed due to the process of moving and existing. Even the language and voice have completely disappeared, changed compared to the beginning.

No one can know everything that happened during the years when the Dan Lai people fled evil from the Hoa Quan region of Thanh Chuong and hid in the wild forests and deep mountains. There must have been bitterness and cruelty that fate had inflicted on those small people. Now, they have a proper life when the State has invested billions of dong to preserve their race, stabilize production and residence. But perhaps, the worries about their origin will forever be a regret for a lineage that has been deformed beyond recognition by the changes. However, the green Giang River, flowing all year round, still appears calm, even when people think that it is the sad tears of many human lives.

Children playing on the Giang River. Photo: Quoc Dan.

...The boat suddenly jumped up. I turned my head to look at the young man rowing the boat with his feet with splayed toes. The boatman calmly lit a cigarette and said: "I am on the Lam River". The boat slowly went upstream along the river's edge. It was called Lam Giang but the water was murky at the moment. Occasionally the boat would bounce up and down, making me feel a little uneasy. I crouched down and crawled along the bottom of the tiny boat, getting closer to the young man who was constantly moving his legs like a person riding a bicycle on the road.

The guy's name is Tran Dinh Tu, 30 years old this year, single. Tu said that he has only been fishing for more than 3 months. Then he reached for his pith helmet and put it on his head: "I'm from hamlet 4, Thanh Lien commune (Thanh Chuong), I used to only work in the fields. I was bored. Suddenly I liked fishing so I bought a boat, a motor and a net and went to the river to learn from fishermen." More than 10 million VND to buy a corrugated iron boat with fishing gear is not a small amount compared to life in the countryside, but for this guy, sailing is a pleasure. Even Tu volunteered to take me floating on the river while the fish he had just caught were about to be taken to the market to sell "crows", he did not regret it, did not worry about losing money.

Tu moored the boat next to a larger boat anchored close to the shore, where an alluvial sandbank like an oasis divided the Lam River into two branches before they merged into one. “This sandbank is called Gieng sandbank, belonging to Hoa village, Phong Thinh commune - Tu explained before I could ask. Looking at the boat moored at the water's edge, there was no one in sight. The wood stove with a tripod in the middle of the boat was still emitting a thin layer of smoke. Surely the owner had not gone far yet.

Tu said again: "Mr. Quy's boat, probably just gone fishing". Suddenly, from afar we saw the silhouette of a small boat rowing hurriedly towards us. On the three-leaf boat, the woman sat at the bow, behind her husband rowed. When the distance was still far, Tu said loudly: "Did you catch much this morning?". The old man on the other side covered his forehead with his dry hand, squinted and replied: "Not much. You just went fishing, so maybe you can catch some this afternoon".

Then we all started chatting. The old man looked hard to guess his age, he seemed to be at least 60. His name was Tran Van Quy, he lived in Thanh Ha commune, he and his wife came to this river junction to make a living. "We have a house, but no land, we have been fishing for a long time" - Mr. Quy said in the slightly distorted voice of someone whose palate had lost several front teeth.

He also pulled up the side of the boat to show me about a dozen monkfish and about 500 grams of shrimp that the couple had caught since 3am: “The water is rough so we can’t catch any fish. It’s getting harder and harder.” The slim old man with shiny black skin also said that the reason the couple still sticks to this job is because they have to take care of their daughter who is studying at university in Hanoi. “We have 2 daughters. The oldest one is married and settled, and the second one is studying at Hanoi University of Agriculture.” When mentioning his daughter who is a student, I saw his eyes shining with pride.

Giang River flowing through Phong Thinh commune (Thanh Chuong). Photo: Van Nhi

Saying goodbye to the friendly fishermen, I returned to shore. Waiting for me on the high mound facing the river junction was Mr. Nguyen Hoang Tien - a cultural officer of Phong Thinh commune. We had made an appointment in advance. Tien asked me: "You must know the song "Song Que" by heart?". Then Tien said: "Poet Le Huy Mau - a son of this land - took the main emotion of the Giang River merging into the Lam River to write the poem that was later set to music. Then, Tien pondered: "I also turn my face towards my homeland". Then he said that he was a former soldier, an armored soldier, with his knowledge of History, his unit created conditions for him to take the entrance exam to Hanoi Pedagogical University 1, Faculty of Museum.

After graduating from university, Tien returned to work in the army, in charge of the museum. But as he said, because he did not like the quiet and boring atmosphere, he asked to leave the army and return to his hometown. Back home, he became a teacher at Thanh Duc Secondary School, after 2 years he left teaching to return to Phong Thinh to apply to be a cultural officer of the commune. I joked: "Or do you want to be an official?". Tien laughed: "Even if you want to be a leader of our commune, you are past the planning age. I don't understand why you still want to stay in this poor land." That is exactly "turning your face down" to return to your hometown as the cultural officer of the commune explained.

Grilled fish from Giang River for sale at Chua market, Photo: Sach Nguyen.

After riding on a motorbike driven by Mr. Tien, we stopped on a suspension bridge over the river. Right at the foot of the bridge is Chua Market - a famous name of Thanh Chuong associated with Chung Linh Pagoda with a long history. Perhaps the most popular grilled river fish are sold at Chua Market. Fresh fish, bamboo fish, ditch fish, and bream caught from both Lam River and Giang River are sold at the market. During the session, thousands of people flock to Chua Market to buy and sell, and look around.

Sometimes people simply want to see a bunch of fish with their noses stuck in their mouths or watch a vendor with rosy cheeks spreading fragrant steam on the rice cakes in a corner of the countryside. People are busy buying and selling, who cares that the clear blue water behind them hides legends that have weathered the elements? Maybe they don’t know that this area was formerly called Hoa Quan, La Mac… and since 2014 has been planned to become a Pagoda town.

This Phong Thinh land with nearly 7,000 people lives off of two rice crops, interspersed with corn, with a yield of 6.5 - 6.7 tons/ha, which is considered stable. When there are fish and potatoes, they bring them to Chua market to find joy. Rural women sell the land - what they know most clearly, that on the other side is Thanh Lien, Thanh Tien or Thanh Hoa, Thanh My communes. And Phong Thinh is the last point of the Giang river before it flows into the mother river. Just that, but everyone wants to find it...

Notes:Van Nhi