Casual Conversation: First Rains of the Season

My mother said, "The weather is so gloomy, I think the first rain of the season is coming soon!" The three words "first rain of the season" sound so simple and light, yet they evoke so many childhood memories in the minds of many, including me. The phrase "first rain of the season" conjures up a feeling of wistfulness at the moment of transition between seasons, a feeling of beginnings, of newness.

The first rains of the season signal the approaching summer. Summer is for rest, relaxation, and hands-on experiences with nature, filled with captivating and engaging folk games. But unlike my peers, my childhood lacked a summer. Their summers were filled with cricket catching, drumming, fishing, and marbles... My summers, however, were spent helping to pick longan and rambutan, searching for crabs and snails, raking for clams, and carrying baskets of sweet potato cakes and sticky rice dumplings to sell from one end of the village to the other to earn money for the next school year.

Although I knew that the first rains of the season marked the beginning of a hard life of earning money for food and education, I always cherished them. After the sweltering heat, the first rains would cool and cleanse the air, allowing plants and trees to sprout and flourish after a dry season, and my life of earning a living on the river would begin. When the first rains appeared, a type of freshwater mollusk also began to thrive: clams. It could be said that clams nourished my entire childhood. The stretch of the Bon So River in front of my house was blessed by nature; during the season, there were abundant fish, shrimp, and clams. This stretch of river, only about a thousand meters long, was bustling with activity year-round. Fishing for shrimp, setting traps, pulling nets, setting up nets... And the most vibrant time of all was the clam season. In the third lunar month, tiny clams, no bigger than chopsticks, densely covered both sides of the river. They hid in the soft mud, feeding on silt to grow. At this time, no one was harvesting clams; instead, they were "nurtured" until they grew. In the fourth lunar month, the rainy season officially begins. Clams grow to the size of a little finger, and a few poor people occasionally go down to the river to collect some, stir-frying or making soup to improve their always scarce meals. However, most people on both sides of the river do not harvest clams at this time, waiting for them to grow a little bigger. In the fifth lunar month, when the heavy rains have subsided, the clams feed on the silt, becoming plump and round, about the size of a thumb, and the clam harvesting season begins. When the tide has receded to about half the river, people on both banks sit with buckets and pots, waiting for the water to recede a little further before going down to the river to harvest clams, creating a bustling scene along the river. As soon as the water recedes, dozens of people rush into the water, some raking, some sifting, some diving... The sounds of life reverberate on the river. The ebb and flow of the tides dictate the time people go down to the river. Sometimes, even when the water recedes almost at night, people wait until nightfall to harvest clams. On moonlit nights, when the water level is low, the rustling sound of rakes and sieves, the laughter and playful chatter, and even the soft singing of someone create a serene, lively, and peaceful atmosphere.

Clams can be prepared into many delicious dishes, especially the clams from the river in my hometown. Their meat is usually plump, white, and succulent. There are clams stir-fried with lemongrass and chili, braised clams with pepper, clams as filling for Vietnamese savory pancakes, clam soup with wild greens... Especially, scooping out the clam meat while it's still hot, putting a spoonful into a bowl, and pouring in some fish sauce mixed with chili peppers creates an irresistible flavor that's hard to describe.

The rainy season is approaching, but for many years now, the Bon So River has been devoid of the lively sounds of clam harvesting, due to pollution and the risk of clam extinction. The clam harvesting season, the livelihood of me and many other people here, is now just a beautiful, yet sad, memory.

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/nhan-dam-mua-dau-mua-185250524180726165.htm