Binh Tranh Island & Cai Be, Vietnam
The land reaches out flat in all directions, a giant delta deposited by the mighty Mekong as it approaches the end of its trail. For more than 3,000 miles it has gushed and tumbled, twisted and turned and now finally, it feels the push of the sea. Low tide leaves muddy flats around its edges that appear and disappear twice a day. Here it is difficult to tell the “mother river” from its many branches and from the myriads of canals carving up the deep rich soil. Fortunately today the sky was clear and east and west were easily discernible. It was not that any one of us really needed to know for all we had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the world go by.
Mats of water hyacinth, escapees from dense shoreline growth, no longer bobbed along as the falling tide joined the strength of the river. Now they flew past at an accelerated rate as if propelled by the strange engines of the ubiquitous “long-tailed boats.” As out of place here as in the channels of southeastern North America, this aquatic species is not viewed as an exotic to be eliminated but as a resource. If one has little but the desire to move ahead, creativity and an industrious nature helps one find a way to use anything nearby. Food, fertilizer, furniture, shoes, this plant produces it all and now is the season of harvest.
Sate grass bundles piled on the shore awaited drying, sorting, and dying, their destination, the mat weavers of Binh Tranh Island. Conflicts on the mainland sixty years ago drove the population to this peaceful habitat where they have built their homes and found their niche. Woven grass mats are popular for sleeping on throughout the country and here the woman weave on simple looms, working two by two, one to work the shuttle, the other to pass the fiber through. Youngsters skillfully finish the edges, anxious to finish their quota and scamper out to play or join their classmates in the school to sing and perform for us.
The canals are lined with small floating fish farms where pink tilapia and rosy snapper splash. Near the towns of Sa Dec and Cai Be boats with glowing eyes are tied side-by-side, a market place of sorts where shopping carts are smaller craft often propelled by oars. Like specialized districts in many towns, each cluster of boats seems to offer similar products all advertized by a sample or two flying like a flag upon a pole.
Although the water seems to be the center of activity, the shore is busy too. Raw rice goes into mills and chaff and bags come out. Chaff is fuel for brick and tile making and for personal fires too and for cooking the delicacies made from the rice itself. Making rice paper is a time-consuming task, starting first from turning the grains to a milky looking soup. One by one each circle is cooked and as we learned it is not so easy as it looks. We’ve all popped popcorn or made Rice Krispie squares, but who would have dreamt that river sand was important for popping rice. Heated to just the right temperature in a giant pot, the sand transfers its energy to the grains of rice and instantly puffed rice dances its way to the top. Mixed with caramelized sugar, sweet treats are the result. Rice becomes potent wine as well, as many of our number are able to tell. Coconuts too have many uses and not just for sweets or treats. The fibrous husk, when hollowed out makes a fine “tea cosy” or it too can be burned as fuel. The leaves are roofing material or maybe even walls. Everything seems to have multiple uses and little is wasted here.
How can this be the final day on board? It seems to have come so fast. But a party and final slideshow say that it is time to go, time to head back to our homes or change the locale of our explorations. One cannot leave however, without taking along the optimism of these peoples we have only started to know.
