Gleaning season

My village on this side of the river only had rice and potatoes, but on the other side of the river was Nam Binh, which had sugarcane, sweet potatoes, and watermelons. Each season had its own produce, and whenever there was a harvest on either side, we, the kids, would grab a small bag and set off.

Crossing the fields, crossing a river, everyone's faces were red and then black after each day of exposure to the sun. On the other side, the potato diggers had cut off the leaves, turned over the potato stalks and picked off the big tubers. We waited until the field owner had finished harvesting and put everything neatly into bags before rushing down to pick up the remaining things.

It was a real contest to see who could be quicker and sharper in finding the round potatoes that were partly exposed on the surface of the field or still buried in the ground. But no matter how well hidden the potatoes were, it was hard to escape the sharp eyes of the children. Because in no time, each child would have a small bag of potatoes on their back.

With this bag of potatoes, when I get home, I will choose the big ones to cook a delicious pot of potatoes. The small ones, I will give to the chickens and ducks and of course, I will pay a small salary to the children at the end of each season.

After the potato season, we also went to glean rice, sugarcane, and watermelon. This work was less hard and more fun. Occasionally, the generous landowners would cut us some rice, sometimes give us a few big sugarcane stalks, a few small watermelons, and call us over to the sugar shed to spread some young sugar on the rice paper… which made everyone’s faces light up.

Time passed, the children who used to pick potatoes grew up, each one went their separate ways, some in the South, some in the North, with many worries in life. My best friend is now married in Hai Duong . Our children, both in the city and in the countryside, finish school, spend time with books, then hug TVs and phones. They don’t know what it feels like to touch mud with their feet or dig in the dirt with bare hands to find cassava and sweet potatoes.

Over time, life has changed a lot. From a poor and difficult village, my hometown has transformed into a town. The poverty of the past has receded. However, for a child born and raised in the village, the nostalgia for the past is still as passionate as the vastness of the fields!

Source: https://baophuyen.vn/xa-hoi/202505/mua-di-mot-2b4184a/