Deep in Huoi Khe

We followed the Western Nghe An belt road from Luu Kien intersection (Tuong Duong district) through Nam Can and Na Ngoi communes (Ky Son) to Huoi Khe village (Muong Ai commune). It has long been rumored that this is the "most miserable road in Western Nghe An" but today it has changed a lot.

From Nam Can to Na Ngoi, the mud used to be up to our calves, but now it is paved straight. Only from Keo Bac village inwards, because it has not been completed, it is still bumpy with potholes. After more than 3 hours, the old car gradually bounced and we were exhausted before we reached Huoi Khe village.

From afar, Huoi Khe only has a few dozen houses scattered on the hillside and along the small road leading straight to the commune center. On the grassy field at the entrance of the village, large, gentle pheasants leisurely search for food. Some children, seeing visitors, seem to be unfamiliar with them, huddle together and run around, and the houses whisper and gossip. No matter what question we asked, we only heard the same answer over and over again: “xì pâu, xì pâu” (don’t know).

Ai Khe village cluster. Photo: Dao Tho

We went to the house of the village chief Lau Giong Xenh and luckily met him at home. Taking off his boots, Giong Xenh lamented: “Dad just went to the Ai Khe and Tham Khop hamlets to gather the villagers. They are in the same hamlet but are more than 30 km apart, so it was very difficult.” The way he spoke made us laugh because the age of this village chief “dad” was only about 5-6 years older than us (this is the way of addressing the Mong hamlets when the man already has children).

Quickly drinking a glass of water without offering it to the guests, quickly wiping the sweat that was still on his dark face, Giong Xenh said that if counting all the hamlets, Huoi Khe has nearly 60 households, of which poor households still account for more than 80%. The most difficult thing is that now the households live separately from each other, so the hamlet chief has to be stationed here while the party cell secretary lives all the way in Ai Khe.

Seeing the guests' puzzled look, Lau Giong Xenh confided and recalled the story 15 years ago that caused his family to live apart. It was an afternoon in late 2003, when the village was settled in Ai Khe, about 10 km from the border gate with Laos. It was a peaceful and crowded village. Although life was difficult, after days of working in the fields, everyone called each other to gather around the fire to roast sticky rice cakes, drink corn wine and chat happily.

That day, when everyone was shivering in the cold of the border region, suddenly there was a loud scream from below the village: "The house is on fire, the house is on fire". Everyone rushed to the Xong Ba Ly house which was burning fiercely to put out the fire. However, all was in vain because the wooden panels roofed with oily sa mu spread from house to house with the wind. "The scarce water source was only enough for daily use, so the villagers were helpless. As a result, 19 houses were burned down, no one could take any belongings. That Tet, we had to eat wild roots and wild vegetables to get through the day" - Lau Giong Xenh said with a sigh.

Women of Huoi Khe village go to the forest to collect firewood. Photo: Dao Tho

After that fire, following the advice of the authorities, people eagerly moved to the new settlement in Huoi Khe village at that time. But according to Giong Xenh, after a while, because the fields were still there, and going to work was more than 30 km away, everyone had a very hard time. In the end, more than 20 households had to migrate back to their old place to continue building the village, some households went up higher to establish the Tham Khop cluster.

“We, the people, only know how to farm all year round, and when we have free time, we go to the forest to hunt mice and squirrels to eat. Now, living scattered like this, every time we want to visit our brothers, we have to travel several hours by motorbike. The forest road is shorter but still takes more than an hour. If it weren’t for that fire, everyone would be living in peace now,” Giong Xenh said while looking up at the high mountain where his relatives live. The view was so far away that it was heartbreaking.

However, the village chief also said that many households who stayed in Huoi Khe escaped poverty thanks to heavy investment in livestock farming. As he spoke, he led us to the house of Mr. Xong No Cho, a household considered the richest in the village, “having many buffaloes and cows and having silver bars saved up”. Mr. No Cho’s house was a new house with a brand new cement roof made from the money he earned from selling his buffaloes, but the furniture inside was still rudimentary.

He said: “Our family now raises 17 buffaloes and cows and has just escaped poverty this year. The economy is just enough to eat, we work hard but don’t know who to sell to. The whole village doesn’t even have a shop, if we want to buy anything we have to walk far, so having money is like having nothing.”

Mr. No Cho's herd of buffalo and cows now does not dare to sell because he has several unmarried children. He wants to leave them behind so that each child can have a capital when they get married. Although he is rich, his family's lunch is the same as that of many Mong families in this small, remote village: a basket of rice, a bowl of water, and some vegetables cooked in soup to get through the meal. At most, a salted fish is bought and saved for when the family has guests.

Raising pheasants in Huoi Khe. Photo: Dao Tho

Darkness fell upon the small village, we sat on the porch of Lau Giong Xenh's house and heard the sound of sobbing echoing more and more clearly in the silence. "That's Xong Y Pai's mother's crying. She ate poison leaves and committed suicide almost a month ago, I feel so sorry for her" - Giong Xenh said. We expressed our wish to visit the other family, he immediately took us there. In the flickering fire, Mr. Xong Tong Xo sat with a pained expression next to his wife who was sobbing because she missed her daughter.

With his limited Kinh language, he recounted that his daughter, Xong Y Pai, who was just over 17 years old, met a young man in Tham Hin village (Nam Can commune) while throwing pao during Tet. He did not know if they fell in love with each other, but one day he was informed that Y Pai had been taken by that young man to be his wife.

After the wedding at the groom’s house, the couple went to meet their parents. But that afternoon, Y Pai and his mother went to get food for the cows and then found some poison leaves to commit suicide. Before his son died, he left a letter saying that he did not get the marriage he wanted and he did not want to live anymore. “Who will give me my daughter back now?” – Mr. Tong Xo said as if he wanted to scream. Suddenly, the image of Mong couples throwing pao to find their lovers on Tet holiday appeared, haunting us endlessly.

The next morning, the sun rose as high as a pole, and we said goodbye to Huoi Khe village to set off. On the other side of the hill, the sound of children reading their lessons made our hearts warm. Another new day had come.