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Salt making in Binh Dai district. Photo: Truong Minh Chau

The day I packed my bags to go on a mission. Going to a land of sun, wind and wildness of mangrove forests. I was in a coastal district of Binh Dai in Ben Tre province. But it was only halfway up, mainly farming and growing coconuts. For the first time in my life, I went to a salty, thorny countryside. I briefly read the notice that the meeting place to receive the mission was Thanh Phuoc Commune People's Committee. The road to the sea was really arduous. The wind was against me, the road was bad, both sides of the alum fields were barren, wild grass grew wildly. After about an hour, we were there. The headquarters of Thanh Phuoc Commune People's Committee was a fairly large thatched house, with sparse tables and chairs. The hall had rows of fixed benches, long planks placed across as chairs. My mood at that time was extremely confused. I didn't know where to live and teach? The struggle of confusion, mixed with fear. And I burst into tears, no one understood what was happening. Several friends came near to comfort and encourage me to help me overcome the moment of temporary psychological shock.

I was assigned to teach at the school in Hamlet 4. This was the main school of the commune. The problem was more difficult, not knowing where the teachers would stay? We could only stay temporarily in people's houses, at that time the commune did not have dormitories for teachers. The policy of the People's Committee of Thanh Phuoc commune was to choose well -off families for us to stay. The place I stayed was Uncle Hai's house, located about a kilometer away from the school. The house was spacious, the family lived together with four people: Uncle Hai, Aunt Hai, Ha and Hien. Tien, the son of the two uncles, had a wife and lived separately, built a house about 50 meters behind, with his wife and two small children. The first step was considered to be "All beginnings are difficult" and went quite smoothly. A week later, I went to the school to receive the class. The principal assigned me to teach Grade 3, after receiving the assignment, I left. The next morning I went to teach. Alas, it was beyond my imagination and thoughts for so long. The class had thirty students, 21 boys, 9 girls. The uniforms were colorful: long pants, shorts, t-shirts, short shirts... all available. Most notably, most of them went barefoot. I asked why? They said they weren't used to wearing sandals. Most of their parents worked in the salt and aquaculture industries, so they went barefoot. The luckiest thing was that where I was staying, there was Ms. Suong, Mr. Tien's wife, who taught at the same school. When I had any difficulties, they always helped me wholeheartedly. Everyone in the family called me "Miss New". That brand name existed until the day I left. I gradually got used to the current life, got rid of all the free habits of my youth. I started to integrate into the new life to grow up. In my free time, I often went to Ms. Suong's house to chat. She said Mr. Tien used to be a very good student. He stayed in My Tho to study, passed the baccalaureate exam. Then he went straight to Saigon to study at the University of Science for one or two years, then quit and came back to help his family with the salt industry. He was in the salt fields all week, sometimes only coming home once every two weeks. Or only when something special happened. He was always working hard outside. Uncle Hai's family had about fifty hectares of salt fields located next to Khem Lon. The seawater here was abundant, convenient for salt making. Mr. Tien built a small hut with a roof made of water coconut leaves, the pillars, beams, and arms were all made of straight mangrove trunks. The main part of the hut was about 20 square meters wide ^, with a kitchen for cooking and a bathroom in the back. On Saturdays and Sundays when I was off from teaching, I often followed Ms. Suong here to visit him. Mainly to supply rice, vegetables, fruits, and some other miscellaneous items.

The salt making job was extremely hard, his body was dry, his skin couldn’t be any darker. Only his teeth were as white as salt. Sister Suong and I helped clean, cook, and do some odd jobs. Two medium-sized cowhide jars were used to hold water. Fresh water here was very scarce, the water was changed once a week. Fresh water was mainly used for cooking rice and rinsing mouth. As for bathing, we only had to rinse it after bathing. Under the scorching sun, barefoot, wearing a torn conical hat with half of the brim barely covering the head. The salt stains seemed to want to penetrate the fate of this small salt worker. In the afternoon, after finishing the meal, I sat and listened to him tell stories. His voice was slow, distant, and simple like that of a coastal person. This salt making profession had been passed down from his great-grandfather until now. He was the one responsible for continuing the tradition. His family was originally from Quang Ngai , where the Sa Huynh salt village had been around for a long time. After the journey to the South by boat, it must have been four or five generations. I sat there engrossed listening to him tell me about each stage of salt making, how arduous and hard it was! Each salt field was usually 30-40 silkworms long and about 7-8 silkworms wide. The ground was compacted hard, people used rollers, rolling it back and forth many times until it was flat. The surface of the salt field was inclined so that when water was brought in and drained out easily. The water pumped into the field went through 5-6 stages before being retained to get salt. Normally, it took about 10-15 days to harvest the salt. Needless to say, it was hard work. But it was so much fun. Old and young, men and women all went to the salt fields. Some people raked and shoveled quickly. Some women used wheelbarrows to push the salt up to the thatched houses on the dike. Young men scooped it into buckets, carried it on their shoulders and dumped it into towering piles. Each pile was about a few hundred bushels. When finished, they covered it with water coconut leaves, waiting for the day to be transported to the market. On the other side, several rows of salt fields had just been harvested. The children used them as a soccer field. The mighty army was clearly divided into two groups, with referees. One group wore colorful shorts and shirts, the other group was shirtless for easy distinction. The referee's whistle blew continuously, reminding the players to play seriously, according to the rules, and not to violate the rules. The sound echoed throughout the sky. Every year, his family harvested several hundred bushels of salt, but the price of salt fluctuated erratically. The life of the salt farmers also fluctuated. Then he laughed and made a poem: "My grandma said that when she was a girl, the price of salt in our hometown fluctuated precariously."

After the salt season, everything is the same. Because everything is converted from salt into money. Money for hiring workers, food, children's education, family living expenses, money for weddings, funerals, death anniversaries... Everything comes from salt. After each salt season, he has a few weeks off to rest and renovate it into an extensive shrimp farm. His mind is also at ease with each full moon and thirtieth moon tide. Harvesting fish and shrimp also helps to make ends meet. With a little extra, he buys clothes for the children. He reaches for a teapot, pours it into a cup and sips. Life is like that, "God created elephants, God created grass", the cycle of heaven and earth. Just pick up sparsely and regularly, the love is eternal like the vast ocean and sky. Oh, I forgot! Salt is also diverse, there are many types: pink salt, black salt from the Himalayas. Salt mines were formed millions of years ago. Smoked salt, bamboo salt in Korea... refined salt, mineral salt, foam salt, medicinal salt... countless. He also wrote some interesting poems: “Pink salt, bamboo salt, black salt. Not as good as the natural white salt of my hometown.” Then he let out a hearty laugh. The Thanh Phuoc night wind blew into the cool night sky. The salt workers rubbed their feet together, climbed into bed and slept soundly. I doubted they would take their dreams with them to the town tomorrow.

In 1994, I left this place after ten years of teaching. The future prospects were vague somewhere, not clearly defined. But I believed that the young generation would have faith and take steady steps. To change the life of their homeland. Last year, on a sightseeing trip. The "Forest Keeper" tourist area in Thanh Phuoc. For me, everything here had changed unusually after thirty years of returning. The wide asphalt road stretched far and wide. Houses on both sides of the road grew up close together. The old rice fields were now facades, streets, with many majestic villas of modern architecture of all colors. I was surprised, I was unfamiliar. And I was happy with the changes of this land. My heart was filled with an indescribable excitement, my mind was unusually light! And I remembered the old days, remembered Uncle Hai, remembered Tien's family and remembered the acquaintances of the old days. I wandered around, went to the corner of De Dong Street, and asked about Uncle Hai and him. I called a motorbike taxi driver to take me to visit his family, a few kilometers away. The noon sun was hot, but the wind from the sea kept blowing cool and gentle. The motorbike taxi driver stopped and pointed to a two-story house with a fence and a yard surrounding it. Funny, people in the countryside often paint their houses in bright colors. It was as impressive as the decorative flower gardens in city parks. In front of me was a purple house with a white bougainvillea trellis hanging over the gate. I stopped for a moment and then called out. A middle-aged man with gray hair came out and asked: Who are you looking for? Yes! I'm looking for Mr. Tien and Ms. Suong's house. He looked at me with surprise and then slowly asked more. Who are you? Yes, I'm the person who stayed at Uncle Hai's house forty years ago. “New teacher!” She exclaimed loudly, then hurriedly opened the gate. Come in, we’ll talk later. He called out loudly from the side of the house. Suong, Suong, there’s a guest… A distinguished guest. She appeared, it was indeed Ms. Suong. She looked no different from before, shorter and stockier, with more skin and flesh than before. I couldn’t drink tea so she reached for a bottle of water from the fridge and offered it to me.

The conversation continued on and on. Everything was from the past... the past. The past was poor, the past was miserable, the past was extremely deprived, the past was a distant time. The couple's two children were already over forty. Duc now lived in Ho Chi Minh City, both of them were doctors. They had a private practice, and they came back to visit from time to time. Hanh married a man in Binh Dai town, both were teachers. They brought their grandchildren back to visit on the weekends, regularly like that. From then until now. Except for special occasions. When I asked about Uncle Hai, he said he had passed away a few years ago. I was filled with sadness and nostalgia, longing for a place of memories from the beginning. Seeing me sad, Mr. Tien raised his voice and interrupted my train of thought. Life, like you, just passed by, passed by like a fate that made people feel disappointed, troubled, then silently accepted. To survive and develop. The same with me, if only my studies had not been unfinished back then, my life would be different now. Do you know if you have met my sister Suong? Fate closes this door, but opens another one for us. The foundation and the source of happiness, are not like now. In short, my life started with salt, growing up living and dying with salt. Salt is more precious than gold. My brother and sister's salt production facility is still stable. Dozens of workers always accompany the family. Duc said that in about ten years he will come back to take over this facility, I also try to wait, what can I do? Hopefully one day not far away he will come back. Come back to protect the "heritage" that our ancestors left behind, as if it was already decided. I felt my eyes sting, from generation to generation they always have to make trades and sacrifices to fulfill the wish of the salt making profession. Sister Suong excitedly nudged my hand, and she took me to visit the old school. About five minutes later, we arrived, a large, spacious school appeared before our eyes. Students were having recess, creating a happy, bustling atmosphere. Neat and beautiful uniforms. The school is named after Tra Thi Cut, a daughter of Thanh Phuoc. A female hero of the armed forces sacrificed here. The school was inaugurated on March 22, 2022, sponsored by the US Indo-Pacific Command. My heart is filled with happiness. A bright future is opening up to welcome you. Another good news on October 2, 2024. The province organized the groundbreaking ceremony for the Ba Lai 8 bridge connecting Ba Tri - Binh Dai on the coastal route of Tien Giang - Ben Tre - Tra Vinh and the provinces of the Mekong Delta. It is expected that this route will pass through Thanh Phuoc commune, his hometown. An unimaginable joy. Does anyone dare to believe it? When a national highway runs through a land full of promise. The eternal dream has been lit up by great ideas of modern people in the 21st century. The policy of the Provincial Party Committee is to develop to the East. Like a new wind blowing up the eternal aspirations. The light of faith will spread throughout the delta. Not far away, one day soon this desolate land will be bustling with prosperity. The fairy tales of human life pass by silently, fragile as the silk thread of heaven tied to the fate of people. Countless streams of thoughts are piled up from generation to generation. The salty smell has penetrated deep into the soul. Quietly and then caressingly and deeply. Honestly, I only dare to borrow five words, lyrics of a song to give strength to this article. Gratitude is not enough "How deep is love, how heavy is duty". For a profession that should have been honored long ago. For those who go far away like me, like you and many others. Anyone who goes far away will return. Return to their homeland, return to the white salt fields. To shout and cherish the loyal people of the coastal region. Saying goodbye to me, Mr. Tien also said to me "New teacher, you know how to come back to visit your relatives, good morning". Yes! I'm going home. How can I forget this place? I come back to lead the memory lane, to “Find the echoes of the waves” of love. The last sunlight of the day softens, the sunset bends close to people’s faces. Looking towards the salt fields, my heart is filled with an indescribable feeling. Raising my hand to wave away the commotion that is anxiously waiting, I believe this place can!

Song Pho

Source: https://baodongkhoi.vn/noi-long-ta-nghia-nang-tinh-sau-30062025-a148927.html