peanut season

(Baonghean) - I call the sandy alluvial land along the gentle small river a peaceful place of the soul, a place that always evokes in me a sense of familiarity and peace from my old childhood days. There, my mother planted cassava, corn, potatoes, beans and many other crops... And now, my hometown is in the peanut season, a season that any child like me at that time eagerly awaited...

June is the time of harsh, glaring sunshine. In addition, the hot, steaming Lao winds have become a nightmare for outdoor farmers like my parents. The peanut beds have begun to turn a mottled yellow. My mother said that if there were to be a downpour in a few days, the peanuts underground would sprout immediately, so the harvest could not be delayed because of the sun and wind. Fortunately, the alluvial land is shaded by green bamboo groves growing close to the shore, so pulling peanuts on extremely hot days like this is somewhat less difficult.

Peanut harvest in Dien Thinh commune (Dien Chau). Photo: Canh Yen

There was only one way to get to the alluvial plain, by boat. My father's dark brown bamboo boat had carried peanuts across the river for many seasons. After my father reached the other side, he tied the boat's roof tightly to a bamboo root, and then without anyone telling him, the whole family quickly got to work. My mother and I skillfully pulled out each clump of peanuts heavy with seeds. My father followed behind and tied them neatly into bundles. Every now and then, my father would call my mother and me to the shore to sit and rest, drink a cup of guava juice, joke a few humorous sentences, and then in a moment, we would continue to work quickly, each with our own task. Somewhere, in the lush green canopy of bamboo leaves, sparrows were chirping happily as if to encourage the working spirit of my whole family...

After a hard-working afternoon, my family had finished harvesting a field of peanuts of about one sao. The sun gradually set behind the hill, while my mother lingered in the field to pick up the old peanuts that had fallen, my father and I quickly loaded the peanuts onto the boat. When the peanuts were full, my father sat in front rowing the boat, my mother sat beside him, waving her hat and singing familiar, smooth folk songs. My father listened with rapt attention and praised: "Mom picks peanuts so quickly, and she sings the best in the neighborhood." My mother shyly covered her blushing face with her hat. At that moment, I don't know why, but I suddenly felt my heart flutter and strangely warm.

Perhaps it is thanks to the fertile alluvial soil that the peanuts on the riverbank are very firm and plump. After drying the peanuts, my mother did not sell them but carefully stored them in several earthenware jars placed in the corner of the house. Then, on the full moon day or on death anniversaries, my mother would take them out to make peanut candy and sticky rice. Occasionally, when relatives from the city came to visit, my mother would quickly scoop peanuts into bags as gifts from the countryside. On rainy days when it was not convenient to go to the market, my mother would bend over in the kitchen and pound peanut salt for food. Because of the rich, fatty taste and characteristic aroma, many delicious everyday dishes required peanuts. Having a jar of peanuts at home was very convenient!

The more I grew up, the older my parents became. One day, when I returned home to visit, I felt sorry for my parents' hard work day and night, so I advised them not to cultivate crops on the alluvial plains by the river anymore. Hearing that, my father slowly said: "Save your salary and do other important things. Even though your parents are old, they still have enough strength to hoe that fertile land, sow peanuts, and plant corn." My mother continued: "Don't worry, your parents know their limits. Besides, working keeps them busy, otherwise they won't be able to stand it if they just sit around doing nothing." After hearing that, I suddenly felt my eyes sting. Afternoon after afternoon, my parents were still diligently tending and watering the peanut beds by the river as if they were looking for a simple joy...

The busy work in the city made it impossible for me to stay home for long. I was eager to return but had to leave in a hurry. When the train started moving, I quickly looked back out the small window and felt a lingering, uncertain feeling. I had to leave behind the unfinished peanut seasons...

Phan Duc Loc