For over 40 years, they have been measuring wind and counting rain on this frontier island.

For over 40 years, he steadfastly measured wind and rain on the frontline island, analyzing the dry numbers to deliver life-or-death warnings to millions of people in central Vietnam who are struggling daily against the harshness of nature.

Hơn 40 năm đo gió, đếm mưa ở đảo tiền tiêu - Ảnh 1. — Ly Son Meteorological and Oceanographic Station

Dedicate your entire life to these "life-or-death" numbers.

1, 7, 13, 19… these numbers are always etched in the mind of Nguyen Nam, a staff member at the Meteorological and Oceanographic Station. To us, they may just be meaningless numbers, but for Mr. Nam, they represent the hours spent updating weather data for the day to transmit to the central station on the mainland. That's on normal days. During the rainy and stormy season, that sequence of numbers becomes even longer. Every 30 minutes, he has to brave the rain and storms, clinging to his meteorological tent to update the data as quickly and accurately as possible for transmission.

Mr. Nam's dedication to the field of oceanographic meteorology stems not only from his passion for the job but also from a deep sense of responsibility and conscience towards the community. In his work, he always keeps in mind: "Every number I record and analyze in a timely manner will contribute to saving countless lives and property for the people at crucial moments." This humane and noble thought has anchored him to the profession, helping him overcome difficult times. When he first arrived on the island to take up his duties, with a meager salary, he had to supplement his income by growing onions and garlic while remaining committed to his work. He loves the island, loves his profession, and finds happiness in his dedication.

Hơn 40 năm đo gió, đếm mưa ở đảo tiền tiêu - Ảnh 2. — Mr. Nguyen Nam is recording data at the meteorological station.

Recalling the days before modern equipment, the work of meteorologists on the island was an unequal battle against nature. Numbers were calculated manually to ensure timely reporting to the center. The rainy and stormy season was extremely arduous and dangerous. Mr. Nam faced absolute solitude in the heart of the stormy seas, fraught with peril. On nights of heavy rain and strong storms, amidst raging winds and terrifying waves that threatened to swallow a small person at any moment, Mr. Nam had to stay awake all night, monitoring every gust of wind, meticulously measuring and adding/subtracting every number, and relying on practical experience to report back to the mainland in a timely manner. Every hour, sometimes every 30 minutes, whether in the middle of the night or dawn, he would grab his flashlight and rush out into the heart of the storm, through the roaring waves, to obtain the raw data. At those times, he only thought of one thing: "The accuracy of these numbers is vital information for the mainland." Therefore, no storm could stop him.

Ms. Nguyen Thi Thanh, a boat owner at Ly Son port, spoke emotionally about Mr. Nguyen Nam, whom the islanders affectionately call "Mr. Nam the forecaster": "For decades, our boats have relied on the officers at the Meteorological and Oceanographic Station, especially Mr. Nam. Whenever we hear about a storm hitting Ly Son, we eagerly await his updates on the wind and storms so we can prepare accordingly and minimize damage. In the past, before the internet, Mr. Nam's information about storms was more valuable than gold."

Hơn 40 năm đo gió, đếm mưa ở đảo tiền tiêu - Ảnh 3. — A quick meeting to report on the center's parameters.

Live like the square-leaved mangrove blossoms.

We visited the Ly Son Special Economic Zone Meteorological and Oceanographic Station at dusk. Mr. Nam glanced at his watch, quickly grabbed his flashlight and notebook, and went to the meteorological tent to carefully record each reading from the sensors, ensuring the data was transmitted to the center on time. Having completed his task, he received us at a stone table under a square-leaved banyan tree. The banyan blossoms bloomed at night, their gentle fragrance mingling with the salty sea air.

Sharing his professional memories with us, Mr. Nam vividly recalls the most terrifying experience when Typhoon Xangsane struck in 2009. This historic storm, with wind gusts exceeding level 14, raged continuously for 24 hours on Ly Son Island. When the storm hit, Mr. Nam and a colleague resolutely remained at the station. In the storm, they braved the rain and strong winds that could blow them away to collect data and report it back to the central station…

He remembers vividly that day when the BTS base station collapsed, the signal was lost, and the radio equipment was also inoperable, making it impossible to communicate and transmit data to the mainland. Communication was completely cut off for over three hours. The wind was so strong that he and a colleague had to crawl along a fence to reach a nearby house to use a mobile phone from a different network to report the data to the center. At that moment, he learned that his house had been completely destroyed, leaving only his wife and young child at home. But he thought of his responsibility to the many people waiting for news to prepare for the storm, the many lives that depended on his information. That thought compelled him to continue his work. Waiting until morning, Mr. Nam only dared to rush home to check the situation, then immediately returned to the station, frantically working with numbers to continue his storm warning duties. Mr. Nam prioritized the safety of the community over the safety of his family, a commitment he always upheld.

Hơn 40 năm đo gió, đếm mưa ở đảo tiền tiêu - Ảnh 4. — Mr. Nguyen Nam enthusiastically guided visitors around the outpost.

Mr. Le Van Ha, a long-time fisherman in Ly Son, recalled: "During the 2009 storm, every house was devastated, yet the Meteorological Station still ensured continuous recording of data and reporting to the mainland. I heard that Mr. Nam's house had its roof blown off by the wind, but he only came to take a quick look before rushing back to the station to work. Truly, he is a hero without a military rank."

Currently, the Ly Son Meteorological and Oceanographic Station has modern equipment, and information about storms and winds is updated quickly via social media. The station currently has only four people, and Mr. Nam is the oldest. Although technology has greatly assisted him, he has never allowed himself to be complacent. He remains meticulous and cautious with every number, because he understands that The lives and faith of the people in the surrounding area rest entirely on those numbers.

For over four decades, Mr. Nguyen Nam has been dedicated to his profession, becoming a symbol of devotion, a weather vane measuring wind and rain on a frontline island. His happiness is simple: knowing that, thanks to the numbers he records and reports hourly, ships have been able to find safe shelter; homes and people have been safe thanks to the information he provides. When asked about his greatest wish, Mr. Nguyen Nam didn't mention any personal desires or rewards for his silent sacrifices. His gaze was fixed on the sea, where the battle with nature is deeply etched in his mind: "I only wish for peaceful weather, fewer natural disasters, and less storm. All I want is for the people on the island and those on the mainland to be safe, and for fishermen to go out to sea safely... That is my greatest wish."

Now, Mr. Nguyen Nam is nearing retirement age. Looking back on his life, he has lived quietly, persistently dedicating himself, like the Barringtonia acutangula flowers clinging to the island soil, silently spreading their fragrance and blossoming amidst the storms. Stormy weather. His silent sacrifice not only contributed to protecting the safety of the community but also spread noble values of responsibility and love for his work and homeland. He will forever be a source of pride for the people of this frontier island.