Missing you, in the song of the homeland...

(Baonghean) - Sen Village, May. There was a festival season to celebrate His birthday, amidst the excitement of the parade, amidst the brilliant colors of flags and flowers, amidst the bustling sounds of gongs and drums, I suddenly realized that Nam Dan was flourishing, but still peaceful and heartwarming, when a Vi tune was sung on stage with the smooth voice of an artist.

I suddenly felt choked up. As if amidst the urgency of today’s life, the verse is “the river’s waves calling us home”. I remember Uncle Ho, the story “before he left”. I imagine his longing and desire at that moment: to hear a verse! Like many children of Nghe An, Uncle Ho was born and raised by the verse. His whole life of selflessly fighting for national independence was also to protect the good, warm and peaceful things like the verse. And when he left, he wanted to be immersed in that melody. The verse is where he was born, and also where he longed to return. The verse is his homeland!

That homeland, as familiar as any other homeland, has rows of tall areca trees in front of the yard; a fence of red hibiscus flowers; a well with clear water sources, a bamboo screen to shade the sun in front of the porch. Many times, I stood silently in front of the hammock, feeling as if it was swaying in the wind. Was it not true that, years ago, that hammock followed the swinging arm of a hard-working mother, so that from her kind and loving chest, a lullaby could be sung. Mother lulled Kieu, Mother lulled Chinh Phu Ngam, Mother lulled with Vi, Giam…

Under the roof of Lang Sen communal house. Photo: Tran Hai

That homeland, where he spent his childhood, still seems to have the sound of the kite flute on Chung Mountain. There was a young man who “followed the troupe to listen to singing, rolled up his pants and stood at the front of the yard” on nights when the troupe was in pain, filled with the pain of the people losing their country and suffering.

Surely, in the journey far from home, following his mother's burden when he went to Hue with his father, or later, on the ship drifting to find a way to save the country, the folk songs of his hometown, his mother's lullabies from his childhood were the burning memories in his heart. Later, our Uncle - when he became an outstanding politician, in international diplomatic dealings or in important speeches, still occasionally recited Kieu flexibly, wittily and profoundly such as: "Seeing off the memory of today / The solidarity is growing deeper and deeper" or: "A hundred years in this human world / The righteous side will surely win, the evil side will surely lose". Hearing artist Minh Hue of the Military Region 4 Performing Arts Troupe sing to celebrate his 79th birthday, when she sang the lullaby: "Ru em, em ngủ cho muội", Uncle corrected it: "Ru tam, tam théc cho muội". After years of wandering abroad with fluency in many foreign languages, Uncle Ho still kept his deep Central accent like the breath of the countryside. And before leaving, he wanted to hear a folk song…

Dear Uncle! The folk song that lulled you back then has become a typical intangible cultural heritage recognized by the world. That heritage has been and is being preserved and spread. On every occasion of your birthday, the "Sen Village Singing Festival" is held, hoping to offer you the songs of your homeland. And Sen Village - our common homeland today is bustling with excitement and nostalgia as the footsteps return. As the poet Xuan Hoai wrote: "Suddenly hearing the voices of hundreds of regions / When I step into Sen Village, Chua Village... / The footsteps of friends from all over the world / Standing close together, close together on this path". Which verse is sung, making the lotus scent of May bloom on the land of Nghe An, dry and windy but also beautiful and dreamy like the moonlight of a night in the fabric quarter...

PV