Maintaining the craft of grinding rice flour on a boat.

On his small boat navigating the canals of the Mekong Delta, Mr. Ly Van Minh, a resident of Giong Rieng commune, has maintained his long-standing tradition of making rice flour cakes. For him, each trip is not only a means of livelihood but also a way to preserve a familiar craft of this riverine region.

Mr. Ly Van Minh grinds rice flour for customers. Photo: BAO TRAN

As evening fell, a familiar, yet long-awaited, cry echoed across the river in the countryside: "Grind delicious, crispy, and rich rice flour cakes with sugar, coconut, and peanuts?" The lingering cry immediately stirred the children playing in the yard. One ran along the riverbank calling for a small boat to dock, another grabbed an aluminum basin and rushed into the house to get rice. One child ran, shouting, "How much is a can of rice, Uncle?" "10,000 dong a can, 30,000 dong a liter. Just bring the rice, I already have sugar, coconut, and peanuts," Mr. Minh replied from the boat.

Receiving the customer's basin of rice and carrying it down to the cramped boat compartment, Mr. Minh nimbly mixed the rice with sugar, coconut, and roasted peanuts. Then he turned to assemble the tools into the rice flour mill located in the middle of the boat; a few seconds later, a series of clicking sounds echoed. He poured a little of the mixture into the mill. From the end of the iron pipe, long strips of rice flour slowly emerged, as long as large vermicelli noodles. The fragrant aroma of rice mixed with the rich taste of coconut milk permeated the small river. The children standing around excitedly asked to try the first strips of rice flour, crispy and hot.

Sitting and waiting for the rice flour to be milled with her children, Ms. Pham Thi Gam, a resident of An Bien commune, broke off pieces of rice flour cake to share with the kids and said, "This cake is made from rice, sugar, coconut, and peanuts, without preservatives, so I feel more at ease giving it to my children than the pre-packaged cakes available now. In the past, there were many boats selling this type of cake, but now they're becoming rarer. That's why the kids are so excited whenever they hear the vendor's call."

Mr. Minh's small boat travels along the canals of the Mekong Delta, from Ba Thê and Núi Sập to Miệt Thứ and Cà Mau . Wherever the boat goes, the calls of his vendors follow. For Mr. Minh, the boat is not just a means of livelihood but also a place where his life is anchored. Previously, he worked in the fields, and his son worked as a factory worker in another province; life wasn't prosperous, but it was stable. In 2020, his wife suddenly passed away in a traffic accident, and since then, his small house has been quiet. Later, he joined a friend in grinding and selling rice paper rolls, and he found the job hard but enjoyable. He saved nearly 30 million dong to buy a used boat along with an engine, grinding mill, and tools for himself.

In the past, the rice flour mill had to be hand-cranked, but now Mr. Minh has added an electric motor, making it much easier. On average, the boat travels dozens of kilometers along the canal each day to find customers. Summer is the busiest time because students are on vacation and there are constant calls for rice flour milling. As soon as one household calls for the boat to dock, several neighboring households also bring out their basins of rice and follow suit.

This profession provides a decent income, so many people pursue it, but most attach the flour milling machine to vehicles and use it for road transport. Those who live a nomadic life on boats like Mr. Minh are few and far between because life on a boat is full of hardships. At night, he usually anchors his boat far from shore for fear of rats getting in and destroying the food. During the rainy season, children are less likely to go out, making it difficult for the boat to dock, so sometimes he only makes a few batches of bread after working all day. The boat rocks precariously on the waves, and some nights he has to huddle under a makeshift tarp, listening to the lapping water until dawn. "My children advise me to rest and take care of myself, but if I quit, I'll probably die of sadness," Mr. Minh said with a laugh.

After finishing the 8-liter batch of rice cakes from the neighbors, Mr. Minh's boat slowly left the dock. The children, holding bags of white cakes, munched noisily on the bank, watched him go. The hawker's voice echoed across the sun-drenched river: "Grinding delicious, crispy, and rich rice cakes with sugar, coconut, and peanuts?"

BAO TRAN

Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/giu-nghe-บน-ghe-xay-banh-ong-a487520.html