My first time going to the theater.

My hamlet is about 5 kilometers from Rau Dua town, Hung My commune, Cai Nuoc district. Back then, Rau Dua was a prosperous and bustling town, no less so than Cai Nuoc town. Every year, when the dry season came, theater troupes from various places would often come here to perform, most frequently the Huong Tram troupe.

• The Ca Mau photo studio in my memory.
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I don't understand why people just called them a traveling theater troupe back then, even though their sign clearly read "Cai Luong Troupe." Whenever the troupe came to Rau Dua, my village would be as lively as a festival, and daily life would suddenly become much more bustling. Everywhere you went, you'd hear people talking about the plays and the artists. So everyone would make time to go see the performances for a few nights, lest they miss the chance and have to wait until the next dry season for the troupe to return.

My parents were genuine farmers, but when it came to enjoying traditional Vietnamese opera or any other form of entertainment, they were incredibly open-minded and didn't forbid their children from going like many other families. However, they were very strict about ticket prices; whoever could earn the money could go. In general, all expenses for a night's performance had to be covered by oneself. My siblings and I were overjoyed to be allowed in; our neighbors' kids sometimes had to beg all day just to get a frustrated "yes" from their parents. In my hometown, the dry season could be considered a money-making season for kids like me. Carrying soil, digging rice seedlings for hire, catching fish in shallow water... all of these could earn us enough money for nightly tickets. After breakfast, we'd grab our baskets and buckets and head to the fields to drain the ditches and catch fish until late afternoon. We'd bring the fish back to sell to fish sauce producers, and that was enough money for tickets, sometimes even enough left over for shaved ice, lemon candy, and roasted peanuts...

Decades have passed, yet even now I vividly remember the emotions I felt the first time I went to see a play. Whenever I recall it, I often smile to myself and drift into a reverie of memories.

MH: Minh Tan

That year I was in sixth grade, not yet wise enough and had never traveled far alone or with my friends. My mother assigned my older brother, Năm, the task of taking me. He didn't want to, for some reason I couldn't explain, and only later did I learn it was about the dating activities of the boys and girls from different neighborhoods. Whenever a traveling theater troupe came to town, besides watching the performance, it was also an opportunity for young men and women to date and get to know each other. Seeing me crying so much, and with my mother protecting me, my brother reluctantly agreed. So, all day long I was like a person on cloud nine, restless, constantly running out to the yard to look at the sun. As soon as the sun began to set in the west, I would go with my brother to Rau Dừa to watch the performance. I heard that this time the troupe had all "Four Minhs," meaning the four artists: Minh Ðương, Minh Hoàng, Minh Sang, and Minh Chiến. Standing on the porch, I saw my brother Nam take a knife and go into the garden to cut some dry coconut leaves, tying them together into several torches. When we leave, we'll take them with us so we can light them on the way back and see the way.

As the sun was about to set, and the sunlight had softened considerably, my brothers and I, along with a few others from the village, set off. Everyone was dressed smartly, their faces beaming with joy. After walking a short distance, my brother Năm hid a bundle of torches so we could use them later, avoiding the hassle of carrying a bulky bundle. We followed the dirt path, passing through one village and then crossing the fields to another, arriving at Rau Dừa just as the sun was setting. With only a few hundred meters left before reaching the open field where the Hương Tràm theater troupe had set up their stage for performances, I felt as if I couldn't take another step. The drums beat incessantly. The loudspeakers blared... boom... The rumbling of the generator mingled with the boisterous laughter and chatter, the shouts of long-lost friends... making my legs feel like they were going to stop, my face bewildered, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness I had never experienced before. Uncle Nam led me to the base of a huge banyan tree, near the ticket booth, gave me some lemon candies, and said, "Stand here for a little while longer, I'll come back and buy tickets to enter. It'll be a long time before the show starts." I knew perfectly well where he was going, but whatever, I was happy just standing here looking at the pictures of the artists hanging in front of the theater.

That night, the theater troupe performed the play Pham Cong - Cuc Hoa. I can't remember how many times I laughed or cried; my emotions surged with each curtain call. I hated the stepmother with a passion. I felt pity for, and then sobbed along with Nghi Xuan, Tan Luc... and then laughed heartily at every line, every movement, and the clown's unique costume and makeup.

At 11 PM, the play ended. A crowd of people jostled their way out the gate. Each group went in a different direction, everyone heading home, the loudspeakers of the theater troupe advertising the next day's play echoing in the distance. My group had torches, so quite a few people accompanied us, forming a procession of about a dozen. The atmosphere on the way home was even more boisterous than the trip there. Everyone was excitedly discussing the play's content and the actors, with the main male and female leads being the most talked about. Being young, I naturally couldn't participate, but I tried to hurry along to keep up with everyone else.

My siblings and I arrived home after midnight. Crawling into bed, my eyes were stinging, and the details of the play kept flickering in and out of my mind. At breakfast the next morning, while everyone was discussing going to see the play, I seized the opportunity to join in, boldly declaring, "I know everything already! I'm going with my friends this afternoon; I don't need to go with the adults anymore." Of course, my older siblings all supported me.

My mother looked at my father and whispered, "Never mind! It's alright, we won't be able to go out much more this season anyway, and it's about to rain."

Nguyen Minh Sang

Source: https://baocamau.vn/lan-dau-toi-di-coi-hat-a35978.html