"Gossiping" about what's happening at Dinh Tai

(Baonghean)"Tuong Duong is one of the poorest districts in the country, Xieng My is one of the poorest communes in the district, and Dinh Tai is the poorest village in the commune. Therefore, it can be concluded that Dinh Tai is one of the poorest villages in the country," said Mr. Vi Van Tan, Secretary of the Party Branch of Dinh Tai village, Xieng My commune (Tuong Duong). After a day in Dinh Tai, we found that this reasoning is entirely valid...

During the Great Cold season, the land and sky were shrouded in continuously intensifying cold air masses. Overcoming our initial hesitation, we decided to brave the drizzle and biting wind to reach Xieng My.

On my first night "enjoying" the mountain chill in Hoa Binh town (Tuong Duong district), I, as a traveler, had some new experiences. Here, there weren't the incessant drizzles like in the lowlands, but the biting cold was several times more intense. It felt like countless needles piercing through my clothes, into my skin, and deep into my flesh.

Waking up in the morning, the mountain town of Hoa Binh seemed to shiver from the cold, lacking the usual hustle and bustle. Thanks to a friend who drove me to the bus station, the bus to Xieng My only had one passenger at that moment.

After waiting for two hours, at 10 am, there were still no more passengers, but the bus continued running according to schedule. Along the way, only four more passengers boarded. Mr. Ba Dan, the owner and driver, looked disheartened, as he had only six passengers on the entire 80-kilometer journey. This trip was certain to result in a loss, possibly not even enough to cover fuel costs. Ba Dan is the person who opened the Hoa Binh-Xieng My bus route nearly 10 years ago, when National Highway 48C was full of potholes and frequently cut off by landslides. Therefore, the people of Yen Na, Yen Hoa, Nga My, Xieng My communes (Tuong Duong district) and even the people of Binh Chuan commune (Con Cuong district) are grateful to him. To this day, this route has up to seven bus trips a day, but people still often choose to travel with Ba Dan.

Around noon, the car stopped at the intersection of Chon village (Xieng My). From there to Phay village – the center of the commune – is about 10 km along a steep, winding road, so we had to call a friend to pick us up. That night, we rested in Phay village, where electricity hadn't yet reached, the cold was biting, and the night was as thick as in the primordial era...

After a good night's sleep, we decided to hike to Dinh Tai. Following a trail along the Chon stream, we passed barren hills, dense forests of vines, and rocky areas—the remnants of gold mining barges—and the village of Dinh Tai emerged faintly from the mist, its dilapidated thatched houses stained with the passage of time. The mountains and forests seemed to tremble from the cold. Children in thin clothes were warming themselves by fires along the roadside. Buffaloes and cows huddled together, unwilling to graze. The people of Dinh Tai looked at the strangers with scrutinizing eyes.

We arrived at Secretary Vi Van Tan's house just as he and his wife were returning from fishing. His hands, feet, and face were pale, and he explained, "It was so cold, I didn't know what to do, so I went to the stream to find some fish to improve our meal. They all hid too." As the fire was lit, the biting cold of winter gradually dissipated, and Mr. and Mrs. Tan stopped shivering. Only then did he begin to tell stories about his village.

Dinh Tai village has 61 households with nearly 230 inhabitants living along the banks of the Chon stream, surrounded by towering mountain ranges bordering the communes of Yen Thang, Nga My (Tuong Duong), Cam Lam, Lang Khe, Binh Chuan (Con Cuong), and Nam Son (Quy Hop). Nestled quietly in a corner of the old forest, and in a border area, Dinh Tai village seems to be "forgotten." At the time of our visit (January 11-12, 2013), the people of Dinh Tai still did not have access to the national power grid, even though the power lines had been installed about three years prior.

The road from the commune center to Dinh Tai is about 5-7 km long (more accurately, a dirt path), but it is extremely rough and precarious. During the rainy season, it is frequently muddy, prone to landslides, and impassable. Furthermore, starting this school year, due to insufficient student numbers, the preschool class cannot be maintained, forcing students from Dinh Tai to attend school in Phay village. This is a real inconvenience, as parents have to travel nearly 7 km (mostly on foot) carrying their children to school and then back home at the end of the day. This wastes a significant amount of time, while the people's lives are still plagued by hunger and poverty, and they have so many other worries to deal with.

Like most highland villages, the main source of income in Dinh Tai is slash-and-burn agriculture and forest product exploitation. However, with outdated farming techniques, still maintaining the ancient method of poking holes and planting seeds, and the fields becoming increasingly barren, productivity and yield are low, and food remains a major concern for the people of Dinh Tai. This is evidenced by the poverty rate of 54 out of 61 households, with some households experiencing food shortages for 3-4 months a year. When rice runs out, people turn to the forest to find a livelihood. But a large area of ​​forest here has been designated by the State for protection and conservation, making daily life even more difficult. Not only are they poor in food and clothing, but they are also poor in education. Currently, only one child in the entire village attends high school, while most children who finish junior high school stop to stay home to help their parents or seek work elsewhere. Poverty and low levels of education are the root causes of the vicious cycle and deadlock faced by the Thai people in Dinh Tai village.

According to Vi Van Tan's recollection, about 20 years ago, out of nowhere, people from all over (mostly from Khe Bo - Tam Quang) gathered in Dinh Tai, bringing with them a drug craze. At that time, opium was a widespread drug, becoming a powerful force that devastated the village. "The brown fairy" (opium) seduced most of the men in Dinh Tai; almost every family had an opium pipe, and it wasn't uncommon to see fathers and sons, or brothers, sharing one pipe. When the craze passed, the already impoverished village became even more desolate, leaving behind a lasting negative impact that persists to this day.

During the conversation, Mr. Vi Hai Tien, the village head, said that currently, Dinh Tai has 4 drug addicts on the management list, but in reality, the number could be much higher. Theft has become a daily occurrence in the village. Anything left unattended, even something worth only a few tens of thousands of dong, disappears without a trace. Even the house of Party Secretary Tan was broken into, with thieves breaking the lock on a cupboard and stealing 700,000 dong. The most frequently stolen item is the copper steamer (used for steaming sticky rice), because this material is easy to sell and fetches a high price. If a drug addict visits a house, they sit by the stove pretending to warm themselves, chatting while using a file to check if the steamer is made of copper. If it is, it's almost certain that it will be... gone within a few days!

Because of hunger and lack of education, heartbreaking stories have occurred in many families in Dinh Tai over the years, further complicating the security situation. We visited the home of Mr. Lo Van Doan (77 years old) and Mrs. Xem Thi Mai (65 years old). In the biting cold, the elderly couple clung to their fireplace. Their house, perched precariously on the mountainside, had old pillars and rotten bamboo walls, giving the impression that a strong gust of wind could bring it down at any moment.

Mr. Doan said, "My wife and I are essentially a couple patched together, coming together to be companions in our final years." He had lost his wife, and she had lost her husband; each had ten children, with Ms. Mai alone losing three to drug addiction. When their spouses passed away, their children couldn't provide for their parents, so Mr. Doan and Ms. Mai decided to marry and rely on each other in their twilight years. Even though they are "close to death," they still have to venture into the forest to clear land and cultivate fields to make a living. "We're weak now, our legs and arms aren't as steady or quick as before, so we can only work a little, and every year we struggle to make ends meet," Ms. Mai confided. Their already difficult circumstances also require them to raise Ms. Mai's two grandchildren. Ms. Ha Thi Mo (Ms. Mai's daughter) and her husband, due to poverty, had a falling out and eventually separated, leaving the burden of raising two children to Ms. Mai.

Ms. Luong Thi Minh in her empty house.

Not far from Mr. Doan's house is the home of Mrs. Luong Thi Minh. It's more of a shack than a house, as the surroundings are bare and dilapidated, with wooden planks and bamboo panels sticking out and receding, indicating a long period without any repairs. Mrs. Minh has two children who died from drug addiction, and her two other sons are working far away. Currently, she lives alone in this dilapidated house, befriending the cold winds that blow in. Every day, she clears the land, hoes the fields, and goes into the forest to collect firewood to earn a living. A widower from Cam Lam commune (Con Cuong district), who has a decent house and a stable income, invited Mrs. Minh to be his companion, but out of love for her children, she accepted living quietly alone, waiting for them to return.

In the middle of the village, an old, dilapidated house adds to the desolate scene of Dinh Tai. The owner of that house is Ms. Lo Thi Thu, a widow whose two children have married and moved far away. Living alone and consumed by loneliness, she decided to leave home several years ago after being persuaded by someone; it is said she is now living in China. In addition, two young women from Dinh Tai also left home and are now reportedly married across the border. "The boys and girls all find ways to leave the village when they grow up, but when they return, they don't bring back anything good from society, only bad rumors," said village head Vi Hai Tien bitterly.

At night in Dinh Tai, visitors from the lowlands listened to the haunting echoes of the vast forest and the murmuring of the Chon stream. When asked about finding a new direction for Dinh Tai to escape the vicious cycle of poverty and backwardness, Secretary Vi Van Tan remained pensive, seemingly lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he spoke: "For now, I've thought of three things: First, the government should support the reclamation of paddy fields and provide guidance on farming techniques; second, a plan for raising buffalo and cattle; and third, planting high-yield bamboo for shoots." And before drifting off to sleep, we could still clearly hear Mr. Tan's words: "I heard that electricity will be connected in a few days; the people have been waiting for a long time. Hopefully, with electricity, life in Dinh Tai will gradually brighten..."

Cong Kien