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| Journalist Uong Thai Bieu at the cemetery in Plei Pyang village, Gia Lai province. |
I believe that to create literature that is both beautiful and profound, and whose value endures through time, requires the writer to be diligent, dedicated, inquisitive, and driven by a desire to explore and perceive with both mind and heart. Uông Thái Biểu is such a writer. He is known to readers and the public as a journalist, poet, and screenwriter. Regardless of the field, Uông Thái Biểu has left his mark on his journey through the written word.
• A JOURNEY OF EXPERIENCING CULTURAL SOURCES
Uong Thai Bieu writes on many different topics about culture, history, people… For him, “A flower whose name we don’t know blooms in a strange land. A river we wade across for the first time. A historical site, a scenic spot, a folk tale, an ancient song… That’s all, but it is precisely these differences that create identity. A journalist will travel and arrive. Upon arrival, they will feel and be fascinated by the experiences and discoveries” (Echoes).
At each stop, Uông Thái Biểu offers the reader profound insights into the process of land reclamation and the journey taken, not just dry data and numbers, but entire stories and historical processes skillfully and vividly narrated. There is the land of Phú Gia, “where the patriotic young king Hàm Nghi and his pro-war generals established a defensive line against the invaders, a place shrouded in a veil of legend for over a century” (Old Stories of Phú Gia). There is Tiên Điền, where “the hermit Tố Như fanned himself while enjoying the breeze of the Lam Giang River” (Before Giang Đình). There is Phú Thọ, the ancestral land of the Vietnamese people, “We seek reality in dreams. We tread on the foundation of our ancestral land, but our hearts are immersed in the mystical, legendary incense smoke” (Towards the Ancestral Land). It's the memory of Vinh City, the Hai Van Pass under the white clouds, beside the border river… It's also an encounter with folk "living treasures," the Dao Nuong of Ca Tru, the Cheo Khuoc artist, the Quan Ho singers of Bac Ninh , the Xam singers of Hanoi… Following the author's footsteps, I see the figure of a wandering minstrel entwined with nostalgia for the old days, searching for and singing the ancient songs that still remain amidst the light of modernity.
Speaking of old stories and people of the past, Uong Thai Bieu creates a space imbued with nostalgia: “The scenery is tranquil, the summer sun just at its zenith. Where are the reunion scenes, where are the cassia and osmanthus courtyards? The moss covering the old bricks guides my footsteps back to a bygone era” (Before the Giang Dinh Pavilion). “The high, blue Thousand Pines still bear the proud image of General Uy Vien, galloping on horseback, singing a carefree song praising the towering pines. The wind-swept Lam Giang River still carries the moonlit shadow of To Nhu…” (Peach Blossom in the Land of Ca Tru). “Red banyan leaves fall abruptly before the road tinged with the autumn wind along the depths of the street. Private emotions overflow in the hazy twilight” (Old Street, Old People)… His writing style involuntarily makes me think of storytellers of old, well-versed in history and literature, who, through their own language, transform seemingly familiar stories into captivating and intriguing tales.
However, beyond nostalgia, Uong Thai Bieu also expresses his reflections on the changes and transformations of the present, contributing the voice of someone yearning to preserve the values left by his ancestors. “I suddenly imagine a day when, beside the banyan tree in my village, a supermarket named Cora or Plaza will spring up. And then, I wonder if there will still be any space for the sentimental, rustic folk songs” (Village Market, a Sacred Spark). “Standing precariously on the edge of the pass, gazing at Hai Van Pass, a sadness spreads. While there is no definitive decision on who will be responsible, rain, sun, storms still pass through this place” (Hai Van Pass Under White Clouds). The author's echoes have been answered as this scenic spot has been restored, returning it to its original majestic appearance.
Uong Thai Bieu has left a significant mark on the Central Highlands, a region he has been connected to for over three decades. In his journalistic career, he has unveiled many layers of mystery within the majestic mountains, revealing the unique cultural layers of the ethnic groups in the highlands. Uong Thai Bieu quotes the late Professor Pham Duc Duong, Director of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, to explain his exploratory journey: “I live and work as a writer in the Central Highlands. Without some understanding of the history, culture, and identity of the indigenous people, my writing would be bland, superficial, and unable to provide readers with the interesting layers of history and culture within” (Those Who Sow Inspiration).
Uông Thái Biểu came to the people to understand them, to tell stories as an insider, not through the eyes of a casual visitor. These included visits to the villages during Tet (Lunar New Year), where he observed, “In the culture of the indigenous ethnic minorities of the Central Highlands, their traditional Tet is essentially agricultural rituals, life cycle rituals, and traditional festivals imbued with the cultural colors of their ethnic groups.” He also observed times of eating and sleeping with the people to understand the intertwined connection between fire and gong, “The fire nourishes the gong. The gong can only naturally express its feelings and convey sacred messages beside the fire. The fire will go out when bidding farewell to the gong's soul, and the gong will fall silent when the fire is gone.” To understand the culture of the longhouse, he said, “In the old days, a village of hundreds of people only had five or seven longhouses, each house sometimes housing an entire extended family, even a clan of hundreds of people. Each longhouse had up to a dozen hearths, meaning a dozen small families living together” (Where are the hearths of the longhouses now?).
Thanks to his close connection with the local people, Uong Thai Bieu brings to readers many interesting things about the identity of the ethnic groups, about their bare feet, about the seasons, about the adventurous spirit in their people; about the music of the Central Highlands people, “The Central Highlands does not howl or roar. The Central Highlands does not burst into blazing fire as many people mistakenly believe. The fire in Central Highlands music is a fire burning from the heart, burning from the silent but powerful flow of culture. Contemporary Central Highlands music draws inspiration from the folk singing styles of Ayray, Kuut, Lahlong, Yallyau… Within it is a whole world of infatuation, gentleness, depth, wildness; of a desolate sadness but pure like a stream, like a waterfall” (Like a Phi bird flying back to its source). He also reveals many things that have faded into the past, now only leaving faint traces. That the ancestors of the Churu people in the vast forests today may have been the Cham royal family of the past (The Wandering Churu). That the Cham people were once masters of the ocean, "they built large ships to make voyages to Thailand, Khmer, Java... and created their magnificent architecture with many styles" (Musings on the Cham region)...
• THE NIGHTMARE OF THE COUNTRYSIDE
In his essay "Deep in the Soul of My Homeland," Uong Thai Bieu mentions the saying of People's Artist Tran Van Thuy, "If you travel across the sea... keep going and going and you will eventually return to... your village." Perhaps he borrowed the idea from the talented director to speak about himself. Through his writings, he guides the reader to explore many lands he has visited, from South to North, from East to West, but the most profound and heartfelt feeling I experience is still in Nghe An, his homeland. Besides taking the reader on a journey through cultural and historical heritage, and the beauty of the land and its people, it also holds a poignant longing for the past, for family and friends, and for a simple, innocent childhood. “Having experienced the ups and downs of life, every night I wake up still remembering the poignant cry of a cuckoo bird in the mangrove forest when the tide recedes. My memories are of forests amidst swamps, densely covered with green leaves and endless purple flowers. Even in the city at night, I still remember the sound of bare feet crunching on the dike road ahead” (Memories of the Wind). The countryside is his obsession, as he “thinks and writes endlessly but cannot escape the vast and deep space of the countryside that has existed and will forever exist in his soul” (The Country Boy in City Clothes - Writer Phong Diep's interview with Uong Thai Bieu).
In the longing for home, the Lam River appears intensely, vividly, and soulfully, like a truly human entity. “Every night I also remember the Lam River of my homeland as if entrusting it to the deepest recesses of my soul. The Lam River in my heart is also the image of a woman, but a woman giving birth after the agonizing pain of physical suffering” (The Singing River). “The gentle river, sweet as mother's milk, has embraced, soothed, and healed” (Childhood Rhyme).
Reading Uong Thai Bieu's writings, it's easy to see that he speaks a lot about wind. So much so that he himself is the wind. The wind in countless forms. The wind carrying deep, hidden emotions. The wind lingering from the past. The wind wandering through the vast, deep forests. The sweet, gentle wind blowing from Nghe An and the Lam River. “The wind blows as if yearning to blow for millennia. The wind carries the heavy burden of hardships on its journey, carrying the muddy red silt from the distant forests. The wind carries the pungent smell of fresh mud, carefully gathered from a life of abundance. The wind plays with the mournful cries of lost birds at the end of the night” (The Old Mangrove Flower Season). “The wind wipes away the tears of those who are wronged. The wind soothes anxieties. The wind lulls babies to sleep. The wind carries the spirits of the elderly. These are winds of sharing and empathy” (The Singing River). “The Central Highlands, the windy months. The winds stir, not violently, not erupting into hurricanes, not tearing apart the vegetation. The winds don't roar like storms in the coastal regions. The wind blows across mountains, hills, rivers, and waterfalls, just enough to spread across the land all the millennia-old essence contained within the deep, vast heart of the forest. Wild and unrestrained winds” (The Passing Season). In his four books, half of the themes are inspired by wind, including the poetry collection “Wind of the Fields” and the essay collection “Wind Blowing from the Land of Memories”.
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With 35 years of professional journalism, Uong Thai Bieu has traveled extensively, met many people, experienced diverse lives and circumstances, and expressed these experiences in countless vivid articles. His writing is not merely journalistic in nature, but imbued with soul, reflection, and profound insights. As a journalist, Uong Thai Bieu has worked in many fields and written on a wide range of topics, but culture is the fertile ground that has given him endless inspiration and left a deep mark. He says that for a journalist, identifying a "guiding principle" for their pen is crucial, and for him, that is the journey of experiencing culture. “No matter where in this country, history and culture are always a magnet and the catalyst for his writing,” said writer, journalist, and translator Phan Quang about him. “What captivates the reader's soul is the essence of culture, the spirit emanating from the landscapes we visit, from the people we encounter by chance. Uong Thai Bieu is not content with what he sees before his eyes. He strives to find the hidden soul of culture. For things he doesn't fully understand or wants to understand more thoroughly, as a journalist, he relies on scholars, artists, and artisans through exchanges. Culture is both an attraction and a reward for the efforts from Uong Thai Bieu's travels and encounters…”
Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202506/uong-thai-bieu-ngon-gio-lang-du-25134cc/
![OCOP during Tet season: [Part 3] Ultra-thin rice paper takes off.](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fvphoto.vietnam.vn%2Fthumb%2F402x226%2Fvietnam%2Fresource%2FIMAGE%2F2026%2F01%2F28%2F1769562783429_004-194121_651-081010.jpeg&w=3840&q=75)
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