The arduous task of…searching for ginseng.

(Baonghean) - "Earth ginseng" is the name commonly used by people living along the coast of Quynh Luu to refer to a species of sea cucumber that lives under layers of sand and mud at river mouths, where saltwater and freshwater meet. This is a natural food source, rich in nutrients and of high economic value. However, to make a living digging for earth ginseng, they must be skilled "craftsmen"...

I happened to meet a group of women selling wild ginseng at a small market in Tan Thang village (An Hoa commune, Quynh Luu district) one afternoon in late March. They were all soaking wet, their hands covered in mud. Looking at them, you could tell the wild ginseng had just been harvested from the field. The reddish-brown, silvery ginsengs wriggling in the bucket captivated me...

The women in Tan Thang (An Hoa - Quynh Luu) diligently search for wild ginseng.

Ms. Mai Thi Xuan, 31 years old (residing in Tan Thang village – An Hoa commune), confided: “I rarely have to bring sea cucumbers to the market to sell because this type is rare, and few people go digging for them. Usually, whatever I dig up, people buy it all. And anyone who wants to buy has to come to my house to place an order in advance to even have a chance.” As soon as Ms. Xuan finished speaking, a woman stopped her motorbike by the roadside and bought all of her goods. For over 1kg of sea cucumbers, the woman took out her wallet and paid Ms. Xuan 200,000 VND. The transaction was quick, with no complaints or bargaining.

After much pleading, the women finally agreed to let me join them in digging for sea cucumbers the very next day. We set off at 12 o'clock. Each person only brought a hoe with a short handle, about 50 centimeters long, and a 4kg paint bucket to hold the cucumbers. After cycling for about 40 minutes, we arrived at the foot of Truong Tho Bridge (connecting Tho Tien and Tho Nhan villages, Quynh Tho commune). By then, the tide had receded, revealing mounds of earth. After setting down the buckets, observing and choosing a spot, everyone started digging. After about five strokes, Ms. Xuan pulled up a long, slender, cylindrical sea cucumber. After putting it in the bucket for a while, it shrank to half its size, its body almost the size of a thumb, shimmering reddish-brown. With over 15 years of experience digging for sea cucumbers, Ms. Xuan easily recognized the signs of the burrows. These were small holes with mounds of mud and sand piled up around them, which she called "ma". "Where there are many holes and many plants, the ginseng grows densely but the plants are small. To catch a big one, you have to choose a place with fewer holes to dig!"

On this side, Ms. Ho Thi Lai (born in 1981) was also gathering momentum, her back bent, and digging with a hoe in rapid succession. According to her, once the first stroke of the hoe is made, the subsequent strokes must be very quick, because even a small sound will cause the creature to burrow deeper. The ability to predict the path of the ginseng varies from person to person, but the worst thing is to dig directly into the ginseng's burrow because the hoe blade will cut through its body. And catching a ginseng requires great skill; once you've grasped its tail, you must use your thumb and index finger to squeeze firmly, then slowly pull it out.

Each swing of the hoe into the ground takes a considerable amount of effort from the digger. But their success rate is only 1 in 20, meaning they have to make 20 swings before they might find one earth ginseng in the bucket. Ms. Ho Thi Hoa (born in 1984) stopped digging, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and said, "Earth ginseng is rare now!"

On the alluvial plain along the Quynh Tho River that afternoon, besides me and the women from Tan Thang (An Hoa), there were many others also carrying hoes to dig for ginseng. Some struggled for a long time before finding a spot and started digging. But when they dug down, they hit a waterlogged hole. Some spotted the ginseng root, but before they could grab it, it scurried away. Others managed to grab it, thinking they had it, only to encounter a stubborn creature, and had to struggle with it, eventually having to let go because the creature would inevitably break. This shows that this profession requires strength, perseverance, and especially experience!

Currently in Quynh Luu, freshly dug sea cucumbers are sold for 150,000 VND/kg. Because this delicacy is rare, many people seek to buy it to enjoy and give as gifts. Ms. Ho Thi Hoa said that if she makes the effort to go to Dien Chau, she can earn 500,000 VND a day from digging for sea cucumbers. This is a considerable amount of money for salt farmers who work hard under the sun and rain.

However, it's not hard to see that the natural sea cucumber population here is dwindling. Ms. Ho Thi Quang, a member of the group, recalls that about 5-7 years ago, people like her who dug for sea cucumbers could earn 3 to 5 kg each time the tide receded. At that time, sea cucumbers were cheap, few people knew about them, and the harvested sea cucumbers were only used to make jelly for later consumption. Now, "things are scarce, and people are wise," and in the entire An Hoa commune, only about 10 people still make a living from this profession...

Nguyen Thi Hoe