Huy Khiem a time to remember!

I am still lucky, at the end of my life's slope, I can still use the stick of time to come back here to meet with friends, people from the same hometown, the same village, sharing the same days of war.

Born in Dai Dong, Dai Loc, Quang Nam , by the Vu Gia River and the bamboo banks of memories. Dai Loc is my birthplace, my origin, my ancestors.

But then the war broke out, and my childhood was spent in Huy Khiem, Tanh Linh, Binh Thuan in the far South as my second homeland. This is where I spent my entire childhood, a place that left many unforgettable memories.

Memories of my childhood, with images of my homeland through the green rice fields, thatched roofs with smoke from the kitchen in the afternoon, moonlit nights playing hide-and-seek, fishing, wading through the fields, the sounds of buffalo calves calling their herds… will always follow me, nourishing my soul until the end of my life.

Returning to my old place, I feel like I am indebted to my hometown, a debt of love for the land and village that I can never repay in my entire life. Returning to my hometown, I feel mixed feelings of joy and sadness. Over the years, my life has changed so much, my old hometown is both familiar and strange. In my memory, peaceful memories of my childhood gradually appear.

In 1959, from Quang Nam, my parents followed the group of immigrants to Huy Khiem to start a business. My childhood grew up with the scent of the forest, the scent of stubble, with the legend of the thousand-acre field. Huy Khiem at that time had a thousand and a half residents, spread out over four villages. To the northeast, there was a strategic fence made of thorny bamboo, a large standing stone and deep caves. Later, I learned that the cave was a hiding place for soldiers. In 1964-1965, countless American bombs were dropped here, but the standing stone still stood defiantly.

In the early years of Huy Khiem, there were herds of elephants and fierce tigers. Farmers even caught nine-nosed octopus. Cobras crowed loudly at night, pythons as big as house pillars caught chickens and pigs as a daily meal. There was no need to mention the freshwater fish. Cau Ngan, Cau Dai, Nong Co stream, Bau Sen, Bau Beo... everywhere there were plenty of fish. The most interesting nights were when I followed my father to the fields to fish, sitting on the dike, the wind blowing in my favor. The moon was bright, and in no time the basket was full of perch and snakehead fish.

Huy Khiem commune at that time belonged to Hoai Duc district, Binh Tuy province. Most of the people came from Quang Nam, they were hard-working and diligent, so in just one or two years the rice was golden brown, the trees and fruits were luxuriant. The happiest time was when spring came, the hometown Tet was rich in flavor. The roasted sticky rice popped like firecrackers, the fragrant banh tet on the night of the 29th and 30th. Every house on Tet hung a set of paintings, such as Pham Cong Cuc Hoa, Luu Binh Duong Le, Nang Ut bamboo tube... During the harvest season, at night, sitting watching buffaloes treading rice, listening to the elders singing, the moon was high but still not sleepy.

In 1965 Huy Khiem was liberated, for the first time at the age of 10 I knew about the revolution and from then on Huy Khiem was immersed in bullets, American cavalry soldiers, soldiers of the 10th division launched many campaigns to retake and then brought people to Tanh Linh's camp. My family, like many other families, had to leave their land and hometown. Phuoc Binh village is now Ward 8, Tan An Ward, La Gi town, my third hometown is also where I am living, where many people are living and have lived, where we meet and say goodbye.

As for Huy Khiem, I was not born there, but my childhood was spent here. And how can childhood be absent in the meaning of life, if I don’t remember my childhood, I don’t remember myself. Returning to Huy Khiem, I brought with me countless memories, memories of the myrtle tree with its fallen fruit in the school yard, memories of the village road with its buffalo footprints, memories of the rice fields singing in harmony in the gentle morning breeze, memories of my father’s “ú liu” guitar every time he was tipsy, memories of the old garden and memories of myself.

Huy Khiem is now more prosperous than before. The electricity grid has come, the village is bright at night. Brick houses and tiled houses are built next to each other. Schools and clinics are spacious, churches stand tall on the mountainside, red tiled temple roofs are exposed. Asphalt and concrete roads stretch to the foot of the rice fields. On the mountainside are pepper plantations, cashew gardens, seeds, and ripe fruits. Huy Khiem is completely transformed. Both familiar and strange - the feeling of a person far from home when returning. I search for the past in the pale sunset over the rice fields, in the sound of buffalo calves calling their herds, in the image of my mother in a yem pouring water with a coconut shell by the earthen well.

Looking back, I returned to the old garden, the garden that still had the mango tree my father planted when we first established the village. The mango tree was the same age as my younger brother. My younger brother was born in the year of the Rat, and my mother was born in this land.

My father, mother, and brother are no longer in this world, and my little brother is also gone. My lips are bitter, I don't know when I started crying! Well, let me share my memories for once!

Source: https://baobinhthuan.com.vn/huy-khiem-mot-thoi-de-nho-129886.html