I was born in a coastal village. I grew up surrounded by sand, sand enveloping my village. Winds lashed sand against my village from all directions...
Coastal area of Cuong Gian commune (Nghi Xuan).
Long stretches of sand dunes rose along the coast, clinging to my face and tangling in my hair even on my way to school. The casuarina trees bent and swayed on the sand. The wind from the sea whipped in, and the casuarina trees bent in resignation. Yet, they still bravely clung to the sand, still sprouting green shoots with such miraculous and vigorous force. Perhaps the casuarina trees are just like the people of my village, like my grandparents, who clung to the sand and the sea to survive, passing down through generations a deep and passionate love for the sea!
My house wasn't far from the sea back then. When summer came, every morning the children would cross the sandy beaches and run to the beach. As the sun rose on the horizon, the sea glowed with a brilliant pink light. The sand felt cool underfoot, and the wind blew the warm scent of the sea onto our young faces. We breathed in the salty air of the sea as we grew up. The sea taught me about my first dreams, childhood dreams of a ship sailing across the vast ocean.
Truong Vun sand dunes are located in Thinh Loc commune (Loc Ha district). Photo: Thien Vy
My grandfather spent his entire life at sea. Before I was even grown up, he left the sea, simply because he no longer had the strength. Men from coastal areas are known for their health and resilience. He was no exception; even at nearly seventy years old, he still went out to sea because it was the livelihood of the whole family. My aunts and uncles in the family either went to sea or sold goods at the market. My grandfather clung to life at sea with his tiny, wooden boat, which would break down every few years. He would rebuild it, and so on. He lost count of how many such boats he had sailed on throughout his life.
The sea isn't always forgiving. When the sea is calm, my village is bustling with activity, teeming with shrimp and fish. But when the sea rages, with waves crashing violently, my village becomes restless. In those days, my grandfather went to sea relying on his experience with the weather and the seasons, so storms and typhoons were unpredictable. That's why every time he and the other fishermen went out to sea, it was a gamble with their fate. How sad for the wives and mothers of the sea... The sandy plains behind my village were once soaked with tears when someone missed their trip and never returned... But my villagers still cling to the sea, overcoming fate and the fury of the ocean to live steadfastly like the casuarina trees behind the village's sandy plains.
Fishermen from Ha Tinh return after a near-shore fishing trip.
My grandfather bid farewell to the sea on a breezy March day. He lay with his head on the sand, his face turned toward the open ocean. The sand caressed and embraced him, welcoming him back peacefully after a long, arduous journey. The day we said goodbye was a golden afternoon in early summer. The sunlight streamed across the silent sand dunes, and in the distance, a couple of boats appeared and disappeared behind the waves. The casuarina trees swayed on the sand, and the salty sea breeze stung my eyes.
When I entered high school, I went to study far from my village and the sea. During those weeks of boarding school, I missed home and the sea terribly. On weekends, when I had time off, I would return to my village, rush to the beach, and throw myself into the water as if I hadn't been back in ages. Sitting by the sea, watching the waves erase the sand crab burrows, I would contemplate something incredibly meaningful.
My village is changing rapidly now. Large, powerful motorboats are used for offshore fishing, equipped with modern fishing gear, forecasting equipment, and rescue systems... The catch is sold at quite high prices.
I lay down on the sand, the sea of my homeland still murmuring. The casuarina trees still stretched out towards the sea like a corner of the village gradually encroaching on the sandy plain behind. My childhood friends have scattered in different directions, leaving behind their homeland surrounded by sand on all sides, but still retaining a pristine longing for the sea. A yearning for the sea that surges in every dream.
Ky Xuan Beach (Ky Anh district).
I walked on the sand, the April sun turning to welcome the sea breeze, a gentle southerly wind signaling heavy catches of fish. I remembered my grandfather, the fragile bamboo boats on the sea. In the distance, the children still chased after a ball. The sand once again nurtured generations of children from my village…
I placed an incense stick on his grave. Outside, the sea breeze continued to murmur its timeless whispers. The pine trees reaching out over his grave symbolized the resilient spirit of my villagers in the face of the vast ocean.
Nguyen Doan Viet
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