March in the land of sun and wind is not as poetic as March in poems or songs. This season in this countryside is only present with the cold wind and sunshine.
The sun burned everything to a yellow, dry color. Dusty. Now it can no longer be called "wading in the fields" but "running in the fields". The fields were dry, the grass was also burned to a layer of gray soil, and every time the wick swept over, dust flew everywhere. The children happily played with rocks and stones every afternoon. It seemed like they didn't get tired, weren't afraid of the sun, running from noon until evening, shouting, chasing each other without getting bored. When it was almost dark, the mothers kept yelling at them but they didn't want to come in, so they had to drag out their whips, then the "troops" dispersed, each going home to bathe and eat.
There is no more farm work to do in this season. In the afternoon, idle women gather together to chat, hiding from the sun under someone's porch. When they get bored, they invite each other to sing karaoke, stirring up the whole neighborhood. It seems that the singing is very attractive to the residents of the small neighborhood. To the point that when the men are done with work, they call each other to gather to eat, drink and sing. Whenever they hear lively singing, they know that the residents of the small neighborhood are unemployed that day. Even though they are served free music, the remaining residents of the neighborhood are not very happy, because they have to work all day long and are tired, and when they come home, they hear their neighbors "screaming" things like "orphaned white bird", "let me carry the burden, mother"... which is really haunting. But one thing that cannot be denied is that although the people of the small neighborhood are poor, their spirits are always cheerful, they never know sadness, they worry about today, why worry about tomorrow.
Optimistic to the point that there was no water to use, just enough to catch water for cooking and bathing, the sun kept pouring down, trying to burn the remaining green to yellow, but still gathered together to sing happily. The hamlet was small, with only ten houses, but every house had a karaoke system, so there were three or four free music venues a day to serve the people in the hamlet. The strong ones on the left sang, the strong ones on the right sang, the front sang jerk music, the back played bolero. I had to laugh because I had fallen into a music- loving hamlet, what could I do?
In addition to the free music, the small village has many other fun activities. This season, although the sun tries to burn all the remaining green leaves, the old acacia tree by the pond cannot be knocked down by the sun. It is the season of ripe acacia. The acacia fruits bend over, their backs crack open to reveal the smooth white kernel inside, just looking at it makes your mouth water. The children in the village invite each other to tie a high pole, hang down the ripe acacia, then gather under the tamarind tree to eat and chat animatedly. They make those who have passed more than half of their lives suddenly remember their childhood, also skipping naps at noon to pick green guava, pick acacia, gather and chat endlessly, then when they are full, they gather to bathe in the pond, in the afternoon, covered in mud, they get hit on the buttocks by their mothers, causing pain. Oh, the carefree time has long since receded into the past. Now, looking at the children, they can only wish and reminisce.
Thanks to the March sun and wind, the ponds in the village began to dry up. The men went to catch freshwater fish, a specialty that only came once a year. The fat snakehead fish, no matter how agile and strong, were all caught. Only the young fish were left for the next season. The catfish as big as handcuffs, with scales as hard as rocks, had to lie still because of the numbing electric shock. After wading in the pond for about two hours, they got half a bucket of fish, each with shiny black skin and plump, round bodies that were very enticing. Shake the fish for a few hours to release some mud, then wash them, and grill them. Grilled fish only needed to scrape off the black, charred skin to reveal the fragrant, white meat inside. Mixed with green mango (in season for young mangoes), some marigold shoots, coriander, and basil picked from the garden, mixed with tamarind fish sauce, it was a real pain in the armpits. So the men had something to gather and enjoy to celebrate their achievements. The women were happy, working hard to prepare a batch of freshwater fish to store in the refrigerator to eat later. River fish braised with pepper went well with rice. If you are bored, you can braise it with ginger leaves, or if you are bored, you can deep-fry it and dip it in tamarind fish sauce and roll it in rice paper. These are all specialties of the countryside. If you buy it at the market, the fish meat will not be as delicious as the pond anchovy.
One day, the family caught fish in the pond, and the children and grandchildren gathered to cook and eat, making it more lively than at a death anniversary. The clever cousin caught a basket of eels with golden skin, which he stir-fried with lemongrass and chili, making his mouth water. The uncle raised his glass of wine, his laughter brighter than the sunlight in the yard, telling stories about how back then he used to drain the pond, not use electric shocks like now. The children and grandchildren sat and listened, laughing out loud at his humorous stories.
Despite the wind and sun that burn their dark brown skin, and the wrinkles on their foreheads, the family reunion is still filled with laughter. One day, some will be here and some will be gone, and we will have few more gatherings like this. So every time the pond dries up, the children and grandchildren gather at the temple to enjoy the blessings their grandparents left behind. The older generation tells the younger generation stories of that time, the younger generation listens to know, to remember, and to tell the stories of their ancestors to their descendants. The family bond is extended like that thanks to the seasons of draining the pond and catching fish.
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