Soil and water stories

I have also wandered through many places in the mountainous areas of Northern Vietnam; perhaps the harshest places are where the Mong people live.
The Mong people in the limestone plateau areas often lack water for daily use. Their main water source is rainwater. At an altitude of about 1,500 meters above sea level and with limestone geology, it is impossible to dig wells to obtain water. During the dry months, around the second lunar month, people may have to travel dozens of kilometers down to lower areas, where there are caves with water, to collect and carry 20-liter cans of water back home. In some places, the Mong people make wooden barrels covered with orange-blue plastic tarps to collect rainwater from corrugated iron roofs. In others, they dig holes about 1 meter deep and 2 meters wide to collect and store water.

The photo shows a water tank made from blue-orange tarpaulin and wooden planks by the Hmong people, taken in April 2025. (Photo credit: Bavantea.com)

Nowadays, living conditions and infrastructure have improved, so concrete tanks or plastic and stainless-steel water tanks are more commonly used to store water for daily use. Because water is scarce, after washing vegetables, people pour the water into a tank to wash hands and feet or flush the toilet.
Also due to the lack of water, some areas can grow dry rice — a small crop — while the rest can only grow corn or beans. Since the land is all limestone, people have to gather small amounts of soil, pile them up, and surround them with rocks to plant corn or beans. Anyone who has been to Dong Van, Hagiang, Vietnam will be familiar with the dish “mèn mén” — corn flour ground in a stone mortar and steamed with water. It's very special but must be eaten slowly or you’ll choke.

The photo captures how the Hmong people hang their clothes to dry. (Photo credit: Bavantea.com)

The last time I went to the mountains, I stayed with a Mong friend’s family. On the first day, I gave his wife one cake. The next day, I went to the market and bought two cups of sugarcane juice — I drank one and gave her the other. I thought she would drink it too.
On the weekend, her four children came home from boarding school, so she gave them the cake and brought out the untouched cup of sugarcane juice to give to her youngest daughter. I saw that and asked her if she had kept the sugarcane juice in the refrigerator. She couldn’t speak Kinh, so her husband explained, “She’s stupid. She’s never had sugarcane juice before. She hung it in the kitchen. It’s not that she doesn’t like it — she was saving it for her daughter.”
The girl is in 4th grade, nearby age as my two daughters. I asked to try the cup of sugarcane juice, but it had turned sour and sticky like tapioca starch, so I had to throw it away.
I also bought “Vietnamese pulled taffy” a type of candy made from rice flour or corn flour with sugar, then condensed, stretched, and poured into a block. When eating, you pull a small part from the block — that’s why it’s called “pulled taffy.” I took some out and shared it with the children. They ate it with delight, their eyes sparkling with happiness.
That afternoon, I discovered something else: here, the kids wash their hair with shampoo but only rinse off the foam. I asked them why they didn’t rinse completely, and they said it made their hair smell better. When they bathe, they just use a wet towel to wipe their stomachs and backs a few times.

The photo shows a motorbike parked in front of a Hmong house — a common means of transportation here , taken in April 2025. (Photo credit: Bavantea.com)

That’s it — life is different in every place. Everything is relative; there is no single standard. What’s true here may not be true there. If we don’t put ourselves in others’ shoes, we won’t understand their stories.
One time, I took some female students up to Tà Xùa to visit the family of a friend whom I consider a brother. Families there only slaughter the chickens they raise for guests they truly cherish. But a few people said it was tough and inedible, and complained that the bowls and chopsticks weren’t “clean.” So the next day, we went to the commune center to find a restaurant to eat rice with industrial chicken eggs — for “easier eating and cleanliness.”
I'm used to it — used to living in minimal conditions. I've even been bitten all over by dog fleas, midges, mosquitoes, and leeches. After going through it so many times, I've gotten used to it. Nearly ten years ago in places like Tà Xùa and Lũng Phìn, people still didn’t have toilets or bathrooms. We lived just like the locals — bathing and going to the toilet in the forest, or toilets with an "open view" of nature. A city girl who came along didn’t dare to pee, even though her bladder was bursting — because under the “eco-toilet,” fish were swimming, waiting for “bait”...
The rustic life in the mountains — by 8 p.m., locals went to bed, hugging each other, listening to the sound of worms and crickets, and falling asleep.
The God was just testing people like that. Because of such harsh and difficult living conditions, the Mong people's vitality and endurance are extremely strong — like the tea trees here, their roots deeply embedded in the rocky mountains, their trunks growing straight up to the sky, standing tall for hundreds of years.