Making a living is easy if you have a profession.

(Baonghean) - "Many years ago, the 'army' of professional blood sellers was quite large, with records managed by the Laboratory Department. But since the voluntary blood donation movement was promoted and the amount of blood increased, this 'army' has dwindled to just a small number."

Mrs. Thanh's small tea stall (her real name is Le Thi Thanh, but her "blood selling card" is Le Thi Hien) is located right next to the side gate of the provincial hospital. A small table, a few plastic chairs, a tarpaulin stretched out to protect from rain and sun, which is frequently taken up and put back up whenever she sees the police passing by, Mrs. Thanh sells tea on the sidewalk to make a living after her "blood selling" business has declined. After a moment of hesitation, knowing I wasn't looking to buy blood but just to ask questions, she pulled up her shirt, showing her arms covered in scars: "These are the marks of more than 20 years of selling blood. Fortunately, now I have achieved something, my children are grown up, successful, and well-educated. I'm less burdened because I have this little stall to earn extra income."

Twenty-five years ago, after being abandoned by her husband, Mrs. Thanh, heartbroken, left her impoverished hometown in Thanh Hoa province, taking her three children—the oldest 10 years old, the youngest 3—to Vinh. Homeless and penniless, she had no choice but to ask for directions to the provincial hospital to sell her blood.

It was 1987, she remembers, when she had 32 dong after selling her blood. Her steps faltered in the wind, but she felt warmer thinking about a hot meal for her children, thinking about the small house she had just rented and the rent due. And so, from then on, every month, when the rent was due, when her children were sick, when their school fees were due... she would go to the hospital.

Although blood samples were recorded and managed at the provincial hospital, back then, "if we waited until the scheduled time to collect blood (previously about every two months, now it's every three months), we would starve," she, like many others, tried to find ways to sell her blood at different hospitals.

Ms. Thanh recounted, pointing: "Back then, the Cua Dong restaurant across the street had a whole row of houses belonging to people who specialized in selling blood. Later, we rented a place in Xuan Hung neighborhood (Hung Loc) and I've lived there ever since. There are also some neighborhoods outside the train station where people sell blood. Most of us are from the North (mainly Thanh Hoa province), we rented houses around here so that when needed, the hospital could easily call us to 'draw' blood." Ms. Thanh also shared some "techniques" for generating blood and regaining strength: "Besides regularly taking iron supplements, we drank a lot of lemon and salt water. Someone suggested we eat beef and pork liver, but where would we get the money to eat such luxurious food?"

Many doctors at the Provincial Hospital's Laboratory Department, as well as blood donors, mention the name Nguyen Van Hong. Mr. Hong passed away three years ago. He was the person who organized a professional blood donation group. He was registered as a resident of Xuan Hung hamlet. In previous years, he was often present at the Laboratory Department, assisting blood donors with paperwork and procedures. He also held the donation cards for many blood donors who were reluctant to take them home, and he maintained a list of the "blood donation group," allowing him to contact individuals who matched the hospital's blood needs when necessary. He worked with a spirit of helping everyone, both those in need of blood and those selling it. Before his death, he gave his phone number to someone else so they could continue to contact regular blood donors or those who needed to sell blood.

Mrs. Thanh's rented room in Xuan Hung neighborhood is about 7-8 square meters, just enough space for a bed and a bicycle. From this room, her three children grew up on the money their mother earned from selling blood; two of them are now students at Hue Medical University and Vietnam Maritime University. "Because they love their mother, they all save money and try to work extra. Looking back, I still feel lucky. For the past year, I haven't had to sell blood as often, but many others are still suffering. Like Mrs. Ngoc, for example, she just sold blood this morning at Hospital 4 and then rushed back to her hometown (Thanh Hoa) to take care of her elderly mother. Or Mr. Thinh, who just stopped by here, was completely exhausted after having his blood drawn. And then there's Mr. Tinh, and the couple Tuan and Thuy at the train station. Those are heartbreaking situations. But they are truly suffering, because those who sell blood are honest people. Only honest people would sell their blood; they wouldn't do anything shady to earn money," Mrs. Thanh shared.

Again posing as someone needing to buy blood, I sought out Mr. Tinh and Mr. and Mrs. Tuan-Thuy in the Vinh train station's laborers' neighborhood. Bending low, I managed to pass through the doorway, only to find a space reeking of dampness and mold. The floor was uneven, the ceiling crumbling, and there were two altars. One for his deceased mother and wife, the other for his eldest son. The son's altar didn't even have a photograph, just a small commemorative picture crudely attached to the wall with some tape. Mr. Tinh was lying on a rickety bed, offering his old chair to his guest. Only after his mother-in-law (from next door) came over to encourage him did he tell his story:

His full name is Ninh Duc Tinh, originally from Gia Khanh, Ninh Binh. After a difficult event, his mother (from Nghi Xuan, Ha Tinh) brought her children here and rented a small house in the working-class neighborhood (Block 19, Dong Vinh Ward). He married at 20; his wife was from Thanh Hoa and also lived in this poor neighborhood. Three children were born one after another. The couple worked odd jobs to support their children, but one day his wife passed away due to a goiter that they couldn't afford treatment for. That was in 2000. At that time, he was desperate, with no money left to buy rice, while his manual labor job was unstable. With the "advice" of his wife's sister, he joined the blood selling "army." His wife, Thuy, had been selling blood since she was 18. Her husband also worked in this profession. Thanks to this, their children were able to learn to read and write, and some of them are now studying far away.

The first time Tinh offered his arm for blood donation, he was very nervous, seeing many young people around him fainting from shock and fear. But then, "it's the end of the road, the only way out," he continued in that profession until now. Although he looks very pale, thin, and his eyes are wide and sunken, he still says: "I feel perfectly healthy. Since Tet (Lunar New Year), I've sold blood four times, two bags each time, and received 400,000 dong. Since the provincial hospital tightened regulations on blood donation from professional blood sellers, I and others have switched to Military Hospital 4 and other hospitals in other localities." Besides selling blood, Tinh also collects scrap metal. He said, "According to regulations, blood can only be drawn every few months, but nobody in this profession can actually do it. I myself have gone out to sell blood two or three times a month. Fainting and dizziness are common occurrences. There are also many fatalities in this profession. For example, the cases of Mrs. Ngai and Mr. Hung... who died from bone marrow failure."

Ms. Thuy, Mr. Tinh's sister-in-law, who rented a house next door, also joined the conversation: "To date, I've been selling blood for almost 30 years. I have no profession, my life is precarious, so I sell my blood to support my children. Now my daughter is studying far away, and she occasionally calls home asking for money. And there are the younger ones going to school too. How can I ever quit this 'profession'?" Although quick-witted, her skin was pale and her lips were bruised purple. "Do you have any illnesses?" I asked. Ms. Thuy looked at me sympathetically: "Any professional blood seller will look pale and sickly. Anyway, we have our own pride; our blood is clean, tested, and properly recorded. Although diluted, it's not disease-causing."

There are many more, like Mrs. Lam, Mrs. Duc, Mrs. Lien, Mr. Thiet, Son River... mentioned in our conversation. Each person has their own fate, a long story of hardships and suffering that led them to "do this extreme profession." And their names, since taking up this profession, have included a symbol representing their blood type: Mrs. Thanh A, Mr. Chien A, Mr. Tinh B, Ms. Ngoc O... They live and tell stories about each other with love and support, even though none are better off than the others, and no one can help anyone much. Just a cup of tea poured free of charge by Mrs. Thanh, a phone call to check on someone, a thoughtful guide whenever someone needs to buy blood... these have created a small community beside us that, if we don't pay attention, we won't notice. That small community may soon cease to exist, as awareness of human health increases, the amount of voluntary blood donations meets demand, and each person finds a new job thanks to the sharing of all of us...

Thuy Vinh