communal house and village

“Oh God, please bless the village's communal house pillars so they remain strong, the roof so durable, the villagers so they can harvest plenty of rice, and there will be no epidemics or illnesses,” – the prayer of village elder A Thơr echoed in the sound of gongs and drums, signaling the official inauguration of the village's new communal house.

Villagers build a new communal house. Photo: TH

For the past few days, the villagers have been overjoyed because the construction of the village's new communal house has been completed. No matter what they're doing, every morning upon waking up or every evening upon returning home, everyone makes time to admire the majestic communal house, its roof soaring high like an axe cutting through the blue sky.

"That's the village's communal house, it was built with the sweat and hard work of our villagers—everyone proudly thinks and says so."

On the day of the new communal house celebration, the village rejoices like a festival. Women wear their newest and most beautiful dresses, and men bring out their gongs and drums to play the best songs to celebrate the new communal house, to celebrate the spirits having a beautiful dwelling place, and the villagers having a place for community activities in accordance with their identity.

The celebration of the new communal house begins with a ritual of informing the spirits, attended only by the village elder A Thơr and other elders. To perform the ritual, the village elder prepares a chicken and a small offering set up at the eastern staircase of the communal house (the secondary staircase).

He prayed loudly, hoping that the spirits would "bless the villagers so that the festival would be held with good fortune, and that those who went to cut down the ceremonial pole would not be injured, fall, or be hit by knives or machetes."

So now, every night, the elderly, children, men, and women of the village gather at the communal house for meetings and community activities.

The village's communal house was built according to the traditional architecture of the Xơ Đăng ethnic group, measuring 12m high, 11m long, and 9m wide, with a total cost of over 200 million VND. Of this, the government contributed nearly 160 million VND, while the people contributed the remainder in the form of labor.

That night, old man A Thơr invited us to stay at his communal house, drink rice wine from earthenware jars, eat grilled forest rats and stream fish cooked with bamboo shoots, and listen to stories about building the communal house. The cold of the old forest, though not yet biting, still seeped through the cracks in the bamboo walls of the communal house with the mountain wind, causing everyone to huddle closer to the blazing fire.

Elder A Thơr raised his wine cup, his eyes half-closed: "So, the spirit of the village now has a proper dwelling place. For us Xơ Đăng people, without a communal house, there is no village, and the spirits cannot return because there is no place for them to reside."

Elder A Thơr's voice, sometimes loud, sometimes soft, echoed amidst the crackling of pine wood: "The village has 150 households, mostly Xơ Đăng people. Thanks to the attention and investment from the province and district, the village has achieved 6 out of 10 criteria for building a new rural village. The village's appearance has changed a lot. Houses have been renovated to be cozier; village roads have been widened and extended."

People have learned to apply science and technology, introduce new crop varieties into production; they know how to build orchards, raise poultry, dig ponds for fish farming, and no longer rely on the state but build a new life for themselves. This is truly a "revolution" in the mindset of the people.

But the villagers are still deeply concerned about one thing: the village lacks a communal house (nhà rông). For the Xơ Đăng people, when establishing a village, the first thing to do is build a communal house, because it is where the spirits reside. The communal house is always located in the most beautiful spot, and every year, festivals are still held there. No matter how far they may wander, the villagers will still build a communal house so that future generations will know that their ancestors had such a shared home.

Under the communal house roof, night after night, sometimes for dozens of nights, the elders would often sing and tell their grandchildren epic poems about legendary heroes and the formation of the universe and life on this earth.

Under the roof of the communal house, night after night, from a young age, children would accompany their father or mother to village gatherings held there.

Around the campfire, through conversation, singing, playing, and even lingering by the wine jar, the elders passed down to the younger generation, from one generation to the next, the methods of planting rice in the fields, how to predict the weather, how to live with the forest and with people, how to behave towards the elderly and the young, acquaintances and strangers, friends and enemies, the living and the dead, and the spirits.

Under the communal house, villagers gather to discuss and decide on major and minor issues related to their lives; it serves as a place to receive guests; and it is where the village elders preside over the religious rituals of the community.

The communal house is built on the most beautiful plot of land in the village. Photo: TH

Previously, the village also had a communal house, small but serving as a place for community activities. One year, a storm destroyed that communal house. Seven years ago, the villagers built a small wooden house, called the cultural center, to use as a meeting place.

Nevertheless, the elderly were sad, and so were the young. Because this was still not the communal house in everyone's mind.

It's wonderful that the government recently provided support to the villagers to build a new communal house. The villagers eagerly contributed their labor and resources, hoping to complete the communal house quickly.

After months of planning, the communal house was erected on the most beautiful plot of land in the village, sturdy and imposing, making old A Thơr laugh constantly, as his daughter said, "The old man can't stop smiling anymore."

The story went on and on. I dozed off by the warm fire. Outside, the mountain wind howled, signaling the changing of the seasons.

And in that dreamy state, I saw old A Thơr smiling contentedly as he gazed at the tall, majestic communal house standing tall in the magnificent forest.

Thanh Hung