If, at the headwaters of the Mekong River, mentioning lotus flowers immediately brings to mind Thap Muoi, or the palm tree evokes An Giang , then at the end of the river, the coconut tree has become the symbol of Ben Tre (now merged into Vinh Long province). Therefore, folk songs still resonate: "Seeing coconut trees reminds me of Ben Tre / Seeing beautiful rice blossoms makes me long for Hau Giang."

Perhaps it is this lingering feeling that evokes an indescribable emotion in me every time I cross the Rach Mieu bridge and gaze at the rows of lush green coconut trees stretching along the riverbank. Standing before the pristine beauty of nature, one seems more easily moved. Before setting foot in this land of coconuts, I often wondered whether coconuts were here before or if humans brought them here. That question isn't easy to answer, but it lingers in my mind whenever I encounter a coconut tree. Perhaps it's not just the coconut tree that makes this land so fertile, but also the people here, with their resilience and perseverance like the coconut tree itself, that create this generous yet approachable character.

A wedding in the land of coconuts. Photo: HA TAN PHAT

The elderly people I met in the coconut-growing region couldn't explain when coconuts first appeared there. They only knew that for a very long time, at least since their great-grandparents' generation, they'd seen coconut trees everywhere. I always felt that the coconut trees in this region possessed a unique, distinct quality, different from those grown elsewhere, or even in my hometown. Visiting the coconut region, my poet friend nimbly climbed a coconut tree and picked the ripest coconuts, drinking the juice right there in the sun-drenched garden, the rustling of the leaves mingling with someone singing a lullaby, "Who stands like a coconut tree's shadow, long hair blowing in the wind..." Indeed, that feeling, the sweetness of that coconut, I couldn't find anywhere else later. It was clear, rich, and sweetly captivating. After much reflection, I understood that it was the land and people of this coconut region that made the coconut so sweet!

Intrigued and filled with undeniable curiosity, I quietly observed how the locals cultivated coconut trees, following each stage of their growth. From the moment a dried coconut fell from the tree, silently resting in a corner of the garden and sprouting, to its towering trunk, it all seemed like a long story of enduring, quiet, yet proud life. And then I realized that, throughout this journey, the coconut tree had silently taught generations of young people here unspoken lessons. Children growing up under the shade of coconut trees, listening to the rustling leaves through the sunny and windy seasons, gradually absorbed resilience and patience, eventually maturing into individuals with the indomitable spirit of the Đồng Khởi movement.

On land once battered by war, coconut trees have never surrendered. Some coconut groves have been ravaged by bombs and bullets, their trunks broken, leaves fallen, and the land barren, yet life seems never to have faded. As long as a single coconut remains high above, as long as a young sprout falls to the ground, hope silently blossoms again. These tiny coconut seedlings, though crushed and toppled, persistently strive to reach upwards, clinging to every drop of sunlight to survive and grow. And strangely, despite all the upheavals, the coconut shoots always point straight up towards the sky, a silent yet resolute affirmation of their yearning for the light.

Perhaps that's why, every time I look at aerial photographs, the endless rows of green coconut trees appear before me like a vast army, marching in unison, rustling in the wind as if "uprising" towards the sun. In this land, trees are not just trees; they possess a strong, upright, and resilient character. And from that, the people here grow up, carrying the qualities of the coconut in their thoughts and way of life. They stand firm amidst hardship like coconut trees in the wind, silently and steadfastly, so that their homeland emerges as an indomitable coconut forest, remaining green through countless seasons of trials.

The "coconut character" isn't limited to everyday life; even the writings of the people of Ben Tre bear the influence of coconuts. The writer Trang The Hy, whom I greatly admire and consider a seasoned, fruit-laden "coconut tree," captivated me with his aesthetically pleasing and deeply evocative writings. It was his emotionally rich writings that led me to his hometown. I remember my first visit; his small house nestled beside a towering coconut grove, filled with the cheerful chirping of birds. He was over eighty, lying in a hammock in the backyard, and upon hearing of a visitor, he sat up to greet me warmly. He recounted stories about writing and coconut trees with great humor. Occasionally, the sound of falling coconuts added a rhythmic beat to the conversation. Before leaving, I asked him about the origin of the coconut trees in the area. He simply smiled and told me, as a writer, to find the answer myself. That answer made me ponder for a long time.

After that first visit, I returned to the land of coconuts many times, as if an invisible thread had bound me to it. With each trip, the land of coconuts appeared in a richer, more vivid form, deeply etched into my memory. I remember once visiting the land associated with the poet Do Chieu, on a bright moonlit night, the moonlight filtering through the coconut trees, casting gentle patches of light on the ground. In that tranquil space, the recitation of Luc Van Tien's poem by the locals resonated, simple yet heartfelt, as if the words had permeated the land and its people for generations, now echoing in the peaceful soul of the countryside.

On another occasion, I wandered through the narrow streets of Ba Tri—where coconut trees stood in endless rows, making every path seem both familiar and strange. The further I went, the more I felt lost in a green labyrinth, with only the sound of the wind and the rustling of the coconut leaves as my companions. As evening fell and the sunlight faded through the leaves, I still couldn't find my way out, so I stopped at a house by the roadside. The owner, with a gentle smile, welcomed me like an old friend, sincerely invited me to stay overnight, and promised to show me the way the next morning.

That night in Ben Tre carried the cool chill of the sea breeze, rustling through the coconut trees, creating a constant murmur. Beside a simple pot of warm tea brewed in a coconut shell, the host slowly told me about the coconut tree – a tree intimately connected to life here, like blood and flesh. He spoke of the coconut's versatility, from its trunk for wood, its leaves for roofing, its fruit for water and flesh, to even its roots used in folk medicine. Listening to him, I suddenly realized that in this land, the coconut is not just a tree, but an integral part of life, a source of sustenance. Even what seems the smallest and most superfluous, through human hands, becomes useful, contributing to the completeness of life in this peaceful land.

Many times I think, nature is truly ingenious to have created such a fertile coconut land at the end of the Mekong River. And our ancestors were also very skillful in choosing this place to cultivate and establish their lives. Over time, the "character of the coconut" has blended with the "character of the people," creating what the folk call "the nature of the land." A land that is both generous and friendly, yet resilient and persistent. That is the profound value that makes up the unique identity of the coconut land.

    Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/thay-dua-thi-nho-ben-tre-1032502