Whose hand is it?

BAC NINH - The old story goes that, during a cold winter, a poor couple lacked warm blankets and mattresses, so every night they would go to bed early. They came up with the idea of ​​roasting a batch of hot corn, putting it in a cloth bag, and placing it in a bamboo basket in the middle of the bed to keep warm, with the couple lying on either side.

Each time the husband reached into the cloth bag to grab some corn and his hand touched his wife's, he would ask, "Whose hand is that?" His wife would affectionately reply, "It's my hand." His heart pounding, she would then grasp his hand and gently ask, "Whose hand is that?" He would passionately reply, "It's my hand." Those hands were so lovely, warm, faithful, shy yet deeply affectionate.

A thief was lurking outside, listening to the couple's hushed conversation until midnight. Annoyed and impatient, he sneaked in and grabbed some corn to eat to ward off the cold and hunger. The wife grabbed his hand, and although suspicious, she still asked, "Whose hand is that?" The thief replied, "It's his hand," then pushed open the door and ran away.

Ancient folk tales celebrate the love between couples and the hardworking hands of farmers, who toil under the sun and rain, in a truly beautiful and endearing way. Recently, in a reputable newspaper in early May 2026, a writer wrote about "dirty hands" in a restaurant.

The story goes that: At dawn, the pork offal porridge stall in the small alley was already crowded with customers. A man stood selling it. With one hand, he held and scooped the porridge, while with the other, he scooped pork offal into bowls. Smoke billowed from the stove; the man wiped the sweat from his forehead, scratched himself, and then continued serving the food...

With that same hand scratching the itch, the man nimbly collected money from customers who had finished their meal, counting out the crumpled, blackened change. Before he could even wipe his hands, he turned to scoop up another bowl of pork offal porridge.

Right next door, at the beef noodle shop, the broth was emitting a fragrant aroma, and a trash can was placed right under the noodle tray. The owner was scooping noodles with one hand while wiping the table, bowls, and chopsticks with a dirty rag in the other. She was still using her bare hands to scoop noodles, pick vegetables, slice meat, and pour broth into the bowls...

As I, the Wasp, write this, I feel a chill down my spine. It's a story about others that makes me reflect on myself. During the recent Lunar New Year holiday, millions of tourists flocked to scenic spots across the country. In the Kinh Bac region, places like the Tay Yen Tu spiritual and ecological tourist area, the Den Do Temple festival, Mo Stream, the Happiness Garden, Bau Tien Lake… welcomed tens of thousands of visitors. Food safety and hygiene are issues that cannot be taken lightly.

Eating vermicelli, pho, offal porridge, enjoying Vietnamese sandwiches – they're all delicious, but they must be clean. Today's topic is clean, fragrant hands. "Whose hands are these?", "His hands, your hands?", "Her hands, your hands" – they belong to no one in particular.

The thief's dirty hands darted furtively, "His hands! His hands!" and he was on the verge of running away. The problem of unsanitary eating habits and dirty hands, a violation of food safety regulations, is rampant in restaurants and street food stalls and needs to be stopped to prevent food poisoning incidents like those that have occurred elsewhere.

The problem of dirty food and hands, literally, in restaurants across the country, has reached a critical point. Vietnamese cuisine is wonderful, but it also needs strong, reliable hands to ward off the thieving hands of those who use dirty hands!

Wasp

Source: https://baobacninhtv.vn/tay-ai-tay-ai-postid446044.bbg