Nostalgia for the countryside

(Baonghean) - Summer vacation was always a joyful time that we kids never wanted to end. In the afternoons, after herding buffalo on the dike, we would excitedly call out to each other to go down to the riverbank to cast our fishing rods for shrimp.

The afternoons spent shrimp fishing were always filled with a sense of urgency and excitement. As soon as the buffaloes were released onto the familiar green grass, without a word, each child went about their own task. While the oldest meticulously bent tiny ballpoint pen springs to make hooks for the curved bamboo rods, the younger ones, barefoot and bareheaded, ran along the raised rice paddies, digging for small worms to use as bait. Then, when everything was ready, the group dispersed, each sitting cross-legged beside a thicket of old reeds to escape the sun, choosing a calm spot in the water and leisurely casting their lines.

Innocent childhood. Photo: Trong Sach

The river this season was reddish-brown with silt. The river water shimmered in the afternoon sun. Sometimes, we'd sit and fish for ages without catching a single shrimp, and many of us would become discouraged. But as evening approached, when the sun had completely set in the west and the south wind began to gently blow, shrimp fishing became much easier. The hook, which had seemed to have disappeared into the silvery water, suddenly became incredibly sensitive. Just a few minutes after baiting the hook, we'd see the small float made of dry grass gradually sinking... The older ones, whom we revered as "professional anglers," often taught us that when the float began to sink, we should wait a little while for the shrimp to get hooked before slowly pulling the rod up from the water. The actions had to be careful, calm, and not hasty. Thanks to those valuable lessons, even I, a naturally impulsive person who often returned empty-handed after spending afternoons sitting on the grass, managed to catch my first shrimp. The feeling of holding a stubborn, still-wriggling crayfish in your hands is amazing!

Occasionally, one of the kids would excitedly shout with joy after catching a huge prawn, and the others would rush over, exclaiming in admiration. Motivated by this, the rest would concentrate even more on their fishing rods, hoping to "break the record" the first one had just set. And so, more and more prawns were pulled up. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the riverside. Sometimes, there would even be boisterous arguments, with no clear winner, simply to see who had actually caught the biggest prawn that afternoon...

Without comparing who was better or worse, we would often put the freshly caught shrimp together in a widened plastic bottle. Then, in the late afternoon, the least skilled fishermen would spontaneously run around gathering dry straw to build a fire and grill the shrimp. When the plump shrimp turned red, the aroma filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere. After diligently casting our lines all afternoon, everyone's stomachs were rumbling. We sat huddled around, waiting for the moment the fragrant, cooked shrimp would come out of the grill, our throats watering with an irresistible craving.

Once the shrimp were cooked, we used dry sticks to pick them up and place them on banana leaves, then divided them equally among ourselves. After peeling off the outer shell, the white, fragrant shrimp meat was revealed, tempting to eat. Without hesitation, we took bites of the shrimp, savoring the delicious taste. The sweet, rich flavor and strong aroma of the grilled shrimp were incomparable. Only then did we truly understand that all the hard work of an afternoon under the sun had been deservedly rewarded. Even after we herded the buffalo back to the barn, the lingering smell of grilled shrimp in our clothes seemed to want to leave with us...

The summers of our childhood in the countryside passed slowly like that, filled with so many memories and so peaceful. Sometimes, we secretly wished we could forever remain little shepherds, sitting huddled with our friends by the riverbank in the afternoons, casting our fishing rods to catch shrimp, reminiscing about sweet memories of the past...

Phan Duc Loc