Writer Ba Dung - Love through every page

Courage to "go against the tide"

From midnight to the morning of September 17, 1982, storm No. 7 with wind gusts of over level 12, accompanied by heavy rain, big waves, and high tides, suddenly hit and swept through most of the coastal and midland districts of Nghe An province. As reporters for the provincial radio station, we went day and night to every village, hamlet, to “describe” the storm’s destruction of houses, fields, schools, hospitals, etc.

After that difficult and arduous time, when I met writer Ba Dung, I both wanted to ask him questions and also wanted to explain the “stumble” our group had when we eagerly brought the documentary film about the storm to the province to show. There was a lot of material, carefully selected, purposefully edited, and clear commentary… But after watching it, the whole group was suddenly questioned by that leader: “Where is the Party Committee, where is the government? There is not even a trace of leadership or direction?”. So our group had to endure, cut and edit until… the sky was calm and the sea was calm!

Writer Ba Dung (2nd row left) on a field trip with a delegation of writers from the North Central provinces. Photo: Provincial Literature and Arts Association

At that time, writer Ba Dung published in the Van Nghe newspaper an essay written right after storm No. 7 had just dissipated with a completely different atmosphere and tone. The writer went to the Cua Lo and Cua Hoi areas - where coastal fishermen had just suffered extremely heavy losses in their houses and fishing boats. The writer met an old fisherman and saw in this person who was used to "eating waves and talking to the wind" the will to go out to sea, cling to the sea, rebuild everything from zero and the vast ocean. That, for this old fisherman, when the waves threw the boat and nets up, that was when his will and that of those who had been at sea all their lives like him were most steadfast and determined. But when he returned to the quiet, peaceful mainland, he felt like he was floating and losing his balance because he was not used to that, definitely never!

Writer Ba Dung also went to the city hospital, not only to learn about the damage or the quick measures to stabilize everything that was needed there, but he also went to the maternity ward, to the mothers and babies who had just been born during this historic storm. In the moment when the storm roared, the roofs were blown off, the doors were unlatched and the rain was slanting and diagonal, a citizen of the city had just been born amid the indescribable joy of the on-duty crew and the family whose clothes were still soaked, it was unclear whether it was from the storm or the drops of sweat.

I remember that at that time, the writer did not say anything when I "narrated" the story of making the film and expressed my admiration for the writer's essay. He just smiled gently as if sharing our shallowness and immaturity.

The more I learned, the more I understood that, to have that perspective, writer Ba Dung, like many others, had experienced countless storms of heaven and earth every year, and he was no stranger to the people, the scenes, the things he had thought about and written about to protect and fight against the "waves" of harshness and criticism from not only writers and readers!

Writer Ba Dung (second from left) with friends and colleagues. Photo: Provincial Literature and Arts Association

Nurturing and nurturing young writers

Working as parliamentary reporters like us, jokingly said, “eat and then go to… meetings”. Whenever we go to a provincial or city meeting, we meet the leader and… writer Ba Dung! It is rare to see that national and family affairs are completed while literary and journalistic work is excellent as he described.

In fact, with Ba Dung, when he is on the podium making a solemn speech or when he is confiding in his friends and colleagues, the two "roles" are still connected and harmonious, never seen in a teaching tone, nor ever seen in a soft or "acting" manner. Therefore, it is understandable that when he leaves his role as Deputy Secretary of the City Party Committee and Chairman of the City People's Council, he still cannot give up the habit of going to the volleyball court every afternoon to "work up a sweat, rest, take a bath, watch the news, read or write something" as he once told me.

I know for sure that if he doesn't go here and there, doesn't participate in any big or small work, then he will have a hard time picking up a pen, or just sitting there in front of the computer, or closing the computer, closing the door to go out to the vibrant reality that happens every day, every hour in that fishing village, this Catholic neighborhood as he once wrote.

Some works of writer Ba Dung.

When he finished his "official" work, he returned to his job as a writer-association-chairman, taking care of the writing camp for members, the creative movement, collecting articles, printing, distributing, and even running the budget for the Nghe An Writers Magazine or the book that many people wanted but had not been able to produce, the book Modern Nghe An Writers.

I remember one time he walked to my office, saying he was “coming to visit, see how you are doing, and at the same time ask for articles for the next issue” of the Nghe An Writers Magazine that he was in charge of. I was extremely confused and embarrassed, and could only say one sentence: “Thank you, but I am not… a member yet?”. He smiled warmly: “If you are not a member yet, you will become one when you come here. The magazine introduces people who are, have not been, and will be members. Try your best, send me 10 articles, I will choose 5 or 3. I believe in you.”

I also remember that once my son was invited to attend a children's literature writing camp organized by the provincial Literature and Arts Association, and writer Ba Dung was assigned the responsibility of guiding the young writers. My son came home and bragged that on the final day, writer Ba Dung said in front of the whole camp: "Writing like Phu Chau is writing, and there are still friends who are still writing essays!" There is hardly any encouragement that could have such an impact on my father and I to eagerly pick up our pens, even though we knew that things would never be easy.

Writers contribute to literature through their works, of course. The successful or unsuccessful writings of writers are valuable lessons for the next generation. The good and valuable details of writer Ba Dung in that essay certainly helped me a lot, not only in writing. But it would not be enough to forget the writers who care day and night for the creative movement, foster and encourage each writer when they are still in their early stages, encourage them to participate in association activities and create "soil" for all talents to blossom and bear fruit. In this aspect, I firmly believe that writer Ba Dung has made significant contributions to the next generation of writers, including me, since the first day I returned to my hometown to work and participate in literary activities.

Writer Ba Dung (silver hair, black shirt) at the opening ceremony of the 2006 Summer Youth Literary Creation Camp. Photo: Provincial Literature and Arts Association

Forever remembering a respected writer

I owe him many things and I can never repay them all. On the day I was admitted to the Vietnam Writers Association, writer Ba Dung, as the head of the Vietnam Writers Association in Nghe An, came to my office to congratulate me and get articles and documents to introduce in the latest issue of the Nghe An Writers Magazine. He was so devoted to me and everyone, and yet there was a time when I… disobeyed him!

He really liked watching football at Vinh Stadium. He was used to winning at home, but suddenly that day, Song Lam Nghe An lost the match, some overzealous spectators chased and beat the referee, leaving an extremely ugly image in the eyes of the fans. After leaving, walking down the street together, he reminded me: “You are a journalist, you have to fight to the end with this matter. You cannot let the hard work of so many people suddenly go down the drain, go down the drain just because of a few thoughtless people…” It was true that many times I met him, but that time I only saw him showing real anger in front of everyone. I kept saying yes but then didn’t do it properly, causing him to call to ask and remind me…

It's been more than ten years since our uncle Ba Dung passed away.

On the day of the Nghe An Literature and Arts Festival and the Vinh City Party Committee organized the Ba Dung Prose Discussion, I arrived late because of work and did not have a speech because I did not have enough energy to write. On the day of his farewell, the delegation of the Vietnam Writers Association led by writers Dao Thang, Nguyen Hoa, and Nguyen An came to pay their respects, joining the silent procession, speechless. The writers all understood that the Association, the Branches, and the literary world had forever lost a respectable person who devoted himself to building the association and the creative movement, a writer who was at his peak!

I write these lines to remember and be grateful to a writer who came before, a person who tirelessly works for the next generation, a person I always respectfully call uncle, address myself as nephew in my writing life, in my life...