	The Future is Yours!
	Tiếng Việt \| MDGs \| Thang's Journey \| Dung \| Mai\| A Better World

UN > Future> Mai > Journal > Chapter 20 - Tra Vinh

Mai's Travel Journal: Chapter 20 - Tra Vinh

Saturday, 6 November 2004

I took the Can Tho ferry again on my way to Trà Vinh. I was on a bus where the driver got some demerit points for speeding. He analyzed the situation, and then complained about the speed limit. Some people agreed, others added their view to the discussion – it all woke me up.

Tra Vinh village has many deep-rooted trees, and is small, peaceful, clean and somewhat ancient. Here, I holed up with the computer, partly to continue with my diary, and partly to complete my new job application.

Yeah, I am not a real worrywart, but I could not deny it and pretend I didn’t know about a chance like this, it was my dream.

I calculated all my weakness and strengths, so as not to be scared, but I gained more courage. I could fail but that was not important. The important thing was that I know I always have numerous opportunities. I can find those opportunities everywhere and should not skip any. I evaluated it laboriously to the point that I had a headache about it, and I also wondered whether I should even share this thought. Anyway, I already did both.

Sunday, 7 November 2004

The road to the district of Tra Cu was very hard. I felt lonely and confused because nobody had shown me the way exactly to the District Party Office. While I did not know how to contact them on a Sunday, I thought I needed a place to rest, to put down my baggage and then I could look for a public telephone. I was looking askance, and then I saw the Office of the Frontier of Tra Cu district. So I went in. I sat on a stone bench in the yard and started to think. I was sure that the District Party Office would be around here somewhere. But, was there anyone around today?

I sat for a while then my curiosity told me to stand up, and go around. Oh, there was an open door; it was the District Party Office. It was in the corner, at the end of the hall. Hai, the officer at the District Party Office said that he was waiting for me. Wow, that was luck after luck.

I arrived at Ham Giang village, Tra Cu district. I did not realize that this place was an area where the fresh water was mixed with salt water because on the map, Tra Cu was inland. I also could not imagine how much moving I was doing. A bit at Tra Vinh village, a bit at the centre of Tra Cu district, a bit at the centre of Ham Giang village, and now Ben Ba village.

I stayed at Mrs. Hai Pho’s house, the branch leader of the Women’s Association of Ben Ba village. Mrs. Hai Pho, who was 72 years old, was the oldest guide on my whole journey. I followed her as she visited all the families in the village. At each place, I listened to her as she told stories about the old days clearly and slowly. I tried to listen and tried not to miss anything, but that was not easy. Therefore, I tried to learn from her about her attitude of hard work and the peaceful, happy thoughts of an old lady. Oh, I was gaining experience to reach old age.

Ben Ba village has a tradition of sedge mat making. On the road to the village, the two sidewalks were covered with sedge; white sedge, colored sedge, each thread was straight; lying out like it was getting a suntan. Then the sedge was dyed, role by role, and dried in front of the houses. The frame to weave sedge always needed two people: one person pulled the frame and one person put the sedge in, orderly, regularly, and continuously for about three hours, then a mat would be complete.

One day, if we worked continuously, then we could make about three pairs of mats, making about 20,000 dong in profit. Therefore, if we depended on mat making, it would not be enough. Thus, everyone worked as laborers. Some people went to Nam Duong (Cambodia), some other people went to Cu Lao Dung district, Soc Trang province, and so on, cutting sugarcane, planting trees, transplanting rice seedlings, unearthing soil, creating foundation banks, anything as long as it would pay some money. Sometimes the whole family would go out to work as laborers, from dawn to dusk. Children quit classes to go with their parents; usually they did not finish Grade 5. Some who were a little better would finish Grade 7 or 8.

Mr. Huynh Khon’s family had three children. Khai, who was the eldest, was in Grade 9 and just had to quit school. Khai cried for the whole night when his parents asked him to quit so that his two younger siblings, one in Grade 5 and the other in Grade 3, could continue. Before, his family was considered poor, so they got a subsidy and the children did not have to pay tuition. But when the only piece of land the family owned was collected, they got reimbursed 3 million dong. Khon bought an old motorcycle to run a motorcycle taxi business, so his family was not considered poor anymore. Therefore he had to pay for tuition for the children. He did laboring everywhere, in addition to mat making, but he still could not pay for all three children.

I returned to the centre of Ham Giang village. I knew about the fresh water drain, to stop the salt water from invading. I knew the high school of Ham Giang, which was so huge and so beautiful, next to the big market, the space in which was not fully used. The villas here, when I asked about them, were mostly built with funds from overseas relatives. Right at the centre of the village, the people still lived mostly by farming and laboring.

Monday, 8 November 2004

I went around the villages at Ham Giang. The green of the rice was overwhelming. Storks flew “up and down” just like the nursery rhymes in the olden days. I remembered that this picture was a representation of a Northern scene, but I have not seen it ever. I wonder whether later on this scene would appear on the Southern meadows.

I left for Duyen Hai and also got lost at Duyen Hai when I was given incorrect directions. But then everything was alright, I was at Duyen Hai town, though it was not that wide.

Duyen Hai had a rather busy market area and this was the first time on my journey to the West where I only knew about the sour soup with mullet as in a poem that I learned in my primary grades. Oh, it was like living my childhood again!

I went to Dan Thanh village, a village with a tradition of salt making, but which now was moving toward raising shrimp. During the rainy season, people raised shrimp. During the dry season, people made salt. Switching back and forth on the same piece of land and yet, not everyone fares better. Some families were successful in one shrimp season but the next season the shrimp died. Thus they were back to being poor again.

Therefore, most people still kept the salt making tradition; they could not lose it so that they could survive in case one occupation was unsuccessful. Still, there was a year that the shrimp died and the salt price fell dramatically. But there was still some luck, because not everyone in Dan Thanh owned land to make salt or raise shrimp. These families lived by working as laborers from day to day, from job to job.

I circled around Dân Thành for almost a whole day but I could not be sure about the people’s situation. Around the downtown area of the village, along the highway, there were huge, solid houses. But, deep inside the village, there were only temporary houses, which were made from patches of water coconut leaves. Lives were different, even just a road apart.

I came to Ms. Mong’s house at Mu U locale, Dan Thanh village. Her family lived by all means of laboring, from transporting salt, cleaning bags, carrying soil, and so on. Her oldest child just finished Grade 8 then quit and waited to see if anyone would introduce them to be a domestic worker in the city. The younger child, named Chi, was 11 years old this year, and has had a heart problem since birth. Last year, with an introduction from the Women’s Association, Chi was able to go to the city to get a checkup and medicine. “Each time she has a problem, I cannot eat or sleep. I am too worried for her but I’m too poor so she has to make do,” Ms. Mong said sadly and then cried. I wished then that I had the money for her to get an operation right away, but there were how many more children like her and how much would be enough?

I returned to Duyen Hai when it was just getting dark. In front of the gate to the market at Duyen Hai, people sold fruit all night. While waiting for the boats from different places to bring fruit to sell the next morning, people still tried to sell. The fruit were fresh, cheap, and you could pick the best, biggest ones. The nightlife of the commercial district did not only belong to the city, nor just in the forest like Gia Hoa, Ninh Thuan – Lam Dong.

Tuesday, 9 November 2004

I sat by the computer at Duyen Hai town for the whole morning and talked about my journey, and my knowledge about development and about UNV to Ms. Phúc, a party member at Duyen Hai. She was interested in everything, and I was happy because I felt useful.

I got the bus to go to Tra Vinh at noon. There was more time to discover this green village. But, I had to return to the Internet cafe and continue writing. The discovery was very short; I just had time to know about the street vendors. That’s all.