Enduring hands and a journey of preserving the craft.
In the morning at Bon Bu Sir, in the gentle early sunlight, the rhythmic, smooth sound of the knife gliding over each bamboo stalk echoed steadily. At over 60 years old, Mr. Y Chong's hands still smoothed each bamboo stalk, making them straight and soft like a flowing stream. While working, he chatted with everyone, the conversation interspersed with the sounds of bamboo, blending into a familiar rhythm of life.

According to Mr. Y Chông, he learned weaving at the age of 17 or 18, sitting beside his father and watching each basket and tray take shape under his father's skillful hands. "I was fascinated, so I started practicing, correcting mistakes, and that's how I learned the craft," he recounted. From baskets and trays to fish scoops and fish baskets… all the familiar items used in rural life gradually took shape through his diligence and skillful hands.
According to him, to create beautiful products, the first and most important thing is to have the right knife. Rattan is very easy to break and difficult to shape, requiring a sharp knife and practiced hands. Bamboo is "easier to work with," but to get the right quality fibers, one must go deep into the forest to select good trees. Each step, from selecting the trees and splitting the strips to shaping the fibers, requires patience, meticulousness, and a sense of the craft.
Initially, he only made items for his family's use. People found them beautiful and ordered more. Word spread, and people from within the village, then beyond, and even from other communes came to place orders. Gradually, he became a professional woven craftsman. His baskets, trays, and fishing nets cost between 400,000 and 700,000 dong depending on the type. Instead of focusing on quantity, he worked steadily year-round, emphasizing durability and sturdiness, so most people were satisfied.
In Quang Son commune, only 4-5 people still know how to weave, but only Mr. Y Chong does it professionally. As he gets older, his orders increase because the craft has become ingrained in his hands and his way of thinking. "I do it both to satisfy my passion and to earn extra income. Having something to do at home makes me happy and gives me meaning," he confided.
Continuing the tradition of the craft and the aspiration to pass it on to the younger generation.
Mr. Y Chông's biggest concern is the declining interest of young people in weaving. He says, "The kids like it, but none of them are willing to learn it properly." Even so, a glimmer of hope remains. His younger brother comes over to weave with him whenever he has free time. A few young people have also expressed interest in learning, though they haven't committed for long. Every morning, the children in the village run over to watch him weave, curiously asking questions. It is those innocent eyes that strengthen his resolve to preserve the craft.
Despite the hard work, he persevered in crafting each sturdy and beautiful bamboo basket, not only to sell them but also to "preserve the ancestral craft of the village." Each of his products embodies a part of the M'nong people's memories of days spent working in the fields with their parents, of the new rice harvests requiring the winnowing basket and carrying basket... These are not just tools, but a way of life and a cultural identity.
Ms. H'Rut, who often commissions him to make baskets and other everyday items, shared: "When it comes to beautiful and heartfelt weaving, few can compare to Mr. Y Chông. He makes baskets and trays very carefully, and they are durable, so everyone likes them."
Elder Y Long - Head of Bu Sir village - also spoke highly of Mr. Y Chong: “Mr. Y Chong not only creates a regular income to improve our lives but also contributes to preserving the traditional craft of our people. He is a reputable person, abides by the regulations of the village, and is always enthusiastic in supporting the community when needed.”
At over 60 years old, Mr. Y Chông still maintains a leisurely and resilient pace of life, just like the bamboo strips he cherishes. In his small courtyard, the sound of his knife whittling bamboo each morning echoes, reminding him of a long-standing craft that continues to be passed down. In his wrinkled but strong hands lies preservation, love, and a desire to pass it on to future generations.
Source: https://baolamdong.vn/giu-lua-nghe-dan-lat-giua-nhip-song-moi-cua-bon-bu-sir-409038.html






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