Village memories in Vinh city

(Baonghean) - I don't know why I still think of this phrase when I think about the neighborhood where my grandfather lived.

That neighborhood still has big coconut trees with long leaves brushing against the wind and clouds, and still has small, pretty fish ponds in front of the houses. Standing in front of his house picking strawberries, listening to the sound of fish splashing around for food under the duckweed. My neighbor still has in a corner of his garden a jar of fish sauce, soy sauce… And occasionally, the sound of insects and frogs still chirps after a wet, rainy night.

In which ward of Vinh street do you think those images are? Are you surprised to know that in Doi Cung, Quang Trung, Cua Nam... Hidden among the high-rise buildings, there are still villages in the city.

Street corner. Photo: Le Thang

1. The rows of coconut trees in my grandfather's neighborhood are not as close together and dense as the images of coconut rows in poems, music or in the coconut lands of Phu Yen, Ben Tre... but they are charming enough to be seen as beautiful as a painting. Rows of coconut trees like that are not rare in neighborhoods near Doi Cung market.

When I was little, walking around his house, I could still hear the voices of the men and uncles speaking with Southern accents. They were soldiers who had regrouped to the North. In their houses, there were often tall coconut trees with lots of fruit. And when I grew up, reading poems by Le Anh Xuan, Te Hanh... I imagined that the Southern coconut trees followed the Southerners to Nghe An and felt close to and loved those people and those gardens:

"The old garden tree

greener every day

The old mother's hair is getting grayer every day.

We are at opposite ends of the work.

Will we ever return to the old garden?

We are like a sunny day

avoid rainy days

Like the moon and the sun apart

Like the morning star

not living together

ever together

back to the old garden?”...

Those are the verses from the poem “Old Garden” by poet Te Hanh that a Southern man once read to the children of Vinh city. The poetic voice is simple, gentle, and strange like his Southern accent. We know those verses by heart, and love the gardens that are scattered around small alleys and small hamlets.

From the small alleys from Dang Thai Than and Nguyen Cong Tru streets, going a few hundred meters in, you will still see small gardens with a few guava, grapefruit, and custard apple trees remaining. In Mrs. Vy's garden, just a few dozen steps away from the high-rise buildings, there are still jars of pickles, eggplants, and fish sauce. Mrs. Vy is from Nghi Loc, married to Quang Trung, and brought the fish sauce making profession to the city. The children are often sent by their mother to buy Mrs. Vy's fish sauce.

Standing by the mossy wall covered with purple pea vines. After watching the sunlight shimmering on the flower beds, I watched Mrs. Vy carefully measure the fish sauce the color of cockroach wings into glass bottles. The glass fish sauce was made for the right amount of months and days, imbued with a distinctive, complex aroma. People around my neighborhood were so familiar with Mrs. Vy's fish sauce that even a child who was far away heard his father tell him that Mrs. Vy was sick and in the hospital and felt sad. Mrs. Vy's garden had nothing to do with me, but some children asked about it. Was the dark brown tiled house and mossy wall still there? Hearing my father say it was still there, and still had a few jars of fish sauce, I felt an indescribable joy.

2. People from far away come to Vinh, many are surprised that in the city there are still many houses that keep their gardens. The journalist friend who went with the flood relief team last year, landed at the airport, and woke up in a strange Vinh neighborhood. Strange to him, but not strange to Vinh people. Where he lives, is only a few hundred meters from Vinh market gate.

I imagined the small alleys around Hong Son ward. He opened the door of the guest house and was surprised to see the image of an old lady with gray hair washing her hair next to a pot of soapberry. Around her were patches of young green leaves and trees reviving after the storm had just passed. My friend said it was a lame comparison, but that image was indeed more impressive than spicy eel porridge, hot snails... that his friends in Vinh were still proud to show off as specialties of Vinh city. Simply because such images are almost lost in developed cities. In the countryside they are still rare, but in Vinh city, they are still unexpectedly encountered and loved.

A corner of Tran Quang Dieu Street (Vinh City). Photo: Le Thang

Vinh people who go to far away places, in their conversations, often talk about the gardens in the city. It is not about how big the house is, how many floors it has, but about the jujube tree, the mulberry tree, the sweet star fruit tree, the sour star fruit tree... while talking, they hide the saliva in their throats, hide the stinging eyes with the thought of not having been back to the garden for a long time.

3. People in Vinh still keep their village in the city, for their children and grandchildren. My uncle, a captain stationed in Da Nang, built a house one day. His grandparents planned to cut down a piece of garden and sell it to him. After all, he had worked in Da Nang for almost his entire military career, his wife went to work, and his children went to school, and they might even stay there for their entire lives. At home, his grandparents only needed a small place to live, a garden to grow vegetables and flowers, while they could sell it so their children could have a larger place to live. It would be a waste to leave it like that... He refused. Simply because that garden had been with his grandparents his entire life, and he had grown up there all his childhood. Selling it would be too selfish.

My single friend who was renting in Saigon, one day her mother in Vinh also urged her to come back and sell her garden. The garden was worth a house in Saigon, not a small amount. She felt sorry for her children to live in a temporary rental. My friend absolutely refused, saying why sell it, selling it would mean losing their place to live. Only children who have a garden can understand that a garden is not just a piece of land for growing vegetables, but also a piece of their soul.

But not everyone has the means or tries to defy the conditions to keep a garden at home. You said, one day your parents failed in business and sold the house with a small garden on the side. That garden was only enough to plant a few papaya trees and pale pink wallflowers like clouds. Every time the papayas ripened, your mother would respectfully pick them down to give to neighbors and relatives, your father would smile while peeling and praising the fragrant scent. Every time you sat down to study, you would open the window and look at the wallflowers, thinking they were clouds walking down to the garden. Your childhood grew up peacefully there. The day you moved into an apartment, your heart felt heavy when you looked at the longing pink wallflowers.

The new owners, of course, saw no point in the roses and papayas. They moved in and built a few more rooms in the small garden. The new house made money, the garden didn’t. Every time you had a chance to wander around Hong Son ward, you would turn back to the old path where your house used to live, look at the cramped houses and feel sorry for the small gardens.

Street corner at night. Photo: Le Thang

4. The village in the city and the garden in the city gradually become smaller and smaller. Of course, when the land does not give birth to more people but each generation has more people. The high-rise buildings in the central areas are growing more and more. The children of Vinh city who go far away still feel attached to the small pieces that have been pieced together in their souls. Journalist Thuy Le shares on Facebook about her village in the city with pride: There is a bit of dreamy Da Lat (because there are patches of green grass, clumps of bright yellow wild sunflowers), there is a bit of Russia with rows of white-trunked eucalyptus trees, straight-growing chives.

Her “village in the city” is right next to the citadel, near the Cua Nam flower garden, not far away. There, she learned from her parents the lessons of human behavior. When her mother swept the leaves along her path, she always swept the broom over the neighbor’s garden, and when her father built a house, he always cut back a little of the garden to avoid future conflicts. And from those simple, easygoing ways of behaving, always accepting a little loss, Vinh people are still known to be easygoing and kind.

Children who grow up in the inner city, go to bigger cities, to bigger countries also have many simple, plain, and sincere personalities. Many friends who meet Vinh people are still surprised why "urban" people can talk about xoan flowers and grapefruit flowers so "expertly". "City" people, why don't they jostle and compete like they are sometimes "reputed" to do.

You laugh, maybe because my city still has small villages in it, and I was born in a village in the city...

Vo Thu Huong