Sitting down next to Mrs. Lac, I was drawn to her index finger, tightly wrapped in a thick layer of cloth—a protective covering for those who work in bamboo carving. As she spoke, she held out both hands for me to see. Her fingers were thin, dark, and covered with countless tiny, overlapping cuts. At the fingertips, the skin had worn away and then thickened into hard, calloused patches. "Everyone's hands get ugly doing this job, my dear," Mrs. Lac said with a hearty laugh.
Ms. Lac recounted that in the past, the sound of bamboo whittling could be heard everywhere in this village, and bundles of bamboo were piled high in front of yards. She and her siblings grew up with this craft. “The craft has been passed down from my grandfather. Besides whittling chopsticks, fishing rods, and duck fence posts, my grandfather also wove bamboo traps to sell to people for fishing. From my parents' generation to my sisters' generation, everyone has lived comfortably thanks to this craft. We have houses, cars, and all the household items we own, all thanks to this profession,” Ms. Lac said.
Having finished speaking, Mrs. Lac stood up and led me inside the house. She opened a cupboard and took out several faded bamboo traps woven by her grandfather and father. Watching the woman, nearly 60 years old, gently run her hand over the traps, I sensed her regret for her family's traditional craft. "The children grew up, went to school, and then worked far from home. Some got married and moved away. This craft doesn't bring in as much income as it used to, so I can't ask them to continue," Mrs. Lac said with a sigh.
The story of the young people continuing the traditional craft suddenly dampened the atmosphere. Compared to the initial joy, curiosity, and excitement I felt when I first came to Mrs. Lac's house, my heart was now heavy with worry. What will happen when those who preserve the craft, like her, are no longer around? Will these traditional crafts be preserved?
However, amidst these worries, Mrs. Lac mentioned someone with great hope: her granddaughter, Thi Be Thu. Despite her young age, Thu loved sharpening bamboo and had learned the craft from her mother since she was little. Accompanying Mrs. Lac, we went to the house next door. As soon as we entered the yard, I felt as if I were seeing a scene from Mrs. Lac's house, only this place was much livelier. Under the small eaves, bundles of bamboo were neatly stacked. The clicking sound of knives echoed continuously as three people sat together, each doing their own task.
Ms. Thi Ngoc's family works together to whittle bamboo to create handicrafts. Photo: TUONG VI
Ms. Thi Ngoc, Thu's mother, nimbly whittled freshly split bamboo into evenly sized chopsticks. Beside her, Thu meticulously selected the best chopsticks and bundled them into groups of ten. Sitting next to Ms. Ngoc and Thu was Mr. Danh Cham, whittling longer bamboo strips to make fishing rods. This scene involuntarily reminded me of what Mrs. Lac had just told me about a time when the whole village practiced this craft. Although not as bustling as before, in this small courtyard, the bamboo whittling trade remains an indispensable part of the family's daily life.
Approaching Thu, I noticed she seemed almost oblivious to the stranger's presence. Her eyes were intently focused on each stroke of the knife on the small bamboo stick. Each time she finished whittling a section, Thu would tilt her head to admire her work, then glance at her mother. Only after receiving a nod from Ngoc would Thu put down the knife to continue whittling.
Looking at her daughter with pride, Ms. Ngoc recounted that Thu started learning the craft when she was in elementary school. “Initially, Thu only did simple tasks like helping to sort bamboo, gather bamboo, or carry products out to dry. As she got a little older, she started learning to split bamboo, making fishing rods and duck fence posts. Now, Thu is learning to make the most difficult product: bamboo chopsticks. Making chopsticks is much harder than making fishing rods or duck fence posts. The chopsticks have to be perfectly uniform; even a slight deviation means the order will be returned. Now, I'm the only one here making bamboo chopsticks; everyone else helps with other products,” Ms. Ngoc confided.
When I asked her why she loved this job, Thu put down her bamboo-shaping tools, ran into the house, grabbed a small fishing rod, and handed it to me. Thu smiled brightly and said, “This is one of the few toys I still have. When I was little, my grandfather made me many toys from bamboo, so I can say that I grew up with mostly bamboo and bamboo handicrafts. Although this work is a bit hard, every time I do it, I feel a sense of familiarity, and most importantly, I feel closer to the previous generations of my family. After finishing high school, I will continue to develop my family's traditional craft.”
My conversation with Thu was interrupted by the sound of lively chatter coming from afar. Soon after, they appeared in Ms. Ngoc's yard, accompanied by Ms. Nguyen Thi Xuyen, the Chairwoman of the Women's Union of Hoa Thuan commune. Ms. Xuyen walked ahead, briefly introducing each person in the group as she entered. They were young women from the hamlet; some had previously worked in agriculture, others in seasonal jobs, and now they had come to learn bamboo carving. Initially, they would assist Ms. Ngoc, and in the long term, they could take work home to earn extra income.
Ms. Nguyen Thi Xuyen (far right) visits the family of Ms. Thi Ngoc. Photo: TUONG VI
Ms. Ngoc quickly stood up and led the other women inside. On an old wooden table, small knives and freshly split bamboo sticks were neatly arranged. She picked up each tool, introducing and demonstrating how to hold the knife, how to choose the bamboo nodes, and how to whittle evenly. Seeing this scene, Ms. Xuyen couldn't hide her joy. She stood silently for a moment, then turned to me and said, "Seeing young women so passionate about this craft makes me very happy. Preserving a traditional craft not only provides a livelihood for the people but also preserves a part of the local memory and culture. For the people here, this is not just a job, but the soul of the village. It would be a great pity if the sound of bamboo carving knives were to disappear one day. In the future, the Women's Union of the commune will continue to coordinate with relevant departments, agencies, and organizations to encourage people to participate in vocational training, support access to loans to expand production, and find more outlets for the products, connecting them with purchasing facilities and suitable distribution channels."
My heart felt somewhat lighter knowing that the bamboo-making craft in Xeo Cui is gradually receiving attention from the local government and organizations. Amidst worries about market demand, the succession of the craft, and competition from industrial products, there are still people trying to preserve the craft through concrete actions. Traditional crafts are silently battling the harshness of time to avoid being forgotten, to be remembered in modern life instead of just existing in the memories of the elderly.
Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/giu-hon-nghe-xua-a491112.html
