With only a few days left until New Year, everything began to fall into place. It has been such an intense time of external stimuli. Every moment offers something to entice one or more of the senses to an almost feverish overload. But in some strange way, nothing ever feels forced or rushed. A vast realm of a carefree existence. At least as carefree as anytime can be. It’s been ten days of some kind of wonderful. Wow, ten days already. It feels like I’ll come out the other end of this, and years will have elapsed, but my watch will only show minutes. A moment, an experience melts into the next, and on it goes. The crest of an endless wave you’re waiting to crash into the sand. But it never does.
In the previous days’ Ba completed most of his projects, and I spent many hours watching the woodshop churning out everything from beds to display stands. Being adjacent to the kitchen, it was a combination spot for getting in on the holiday kitchen action. I made it a habit to visit the outdoor shop and kitchen periodically. You never knew when a local sweet treat or some insanely beautiful artwork was in the making. Everyone always laughed at my interest and curiosity. It was just another day here, but to me, it was unique and special.
A Little Spring Cleaning
The Tết holiday is the Lunar New Year. When spring officially arrives in the country. A tradition that goes back thousands of years. The Tết holiday marks the coming of the rice harvest, the bearing of new fruit in the trees, and the turning point from the long rainy season, which like most winters, is a period of lean and saving. With Tết comes renewed abundance and plenty. The belief is that how you end the new year directly correlates to your luck and circumstance in the coming year.
From this comes the rituals of buying new clothes, cleaning the home, and one’s possessions. Our home was no different. The house and everything in it would need to be scrubbed, polished, and looked their best before Tết. As everyone arrived from the cities, us included, it was time to combine forces and get to work. Everyone pitched in, including me. As an accepted member of the clan, I was responsible for hitting high places that were a bit out of reach for most on foot. Ceilings, floors, window panes, motorbikes, ba’s workshop, everything was scrubbed.
A Cut and a Shave
With the house in good order, it was time to do the same. Kevin had just arrived from Da Nang, and he brought all his tools to get everyone looking tip-top with fresh haircuts and a shave. It was no surprise that he had a friend nearby with a shop. So we loaded up and headed t a small town a couple of kilometers away to borrow some chair time. Then, we headed out of the village and south back across the river to a small village known as Hưng Long.
Like everywhere else in Vietnam, it was bustling with people returning home for a holiday. The town was substantially more extensive than the tiny hamlet we stayed in with my in-laws. It was an incredibly crisp and wonderfully cool morning. The unusually cool weather still brought the region cold nights and cool days. We made our way into the barbershop, and Kevin went to work making our little nephew Duong look his best for Tết.
A Time of Plenty
As Tết draws ever closer, the excitement and momentum continue to build. Finally, after much anticipation on my part, the morning had come to acquire our pig for the holiday. Diem and I helped with its procurement this year, though we split the animal with the neighbor’s family with minimal refrigeration and freezer space. Uninterested in the mess from the actual slaughter, mom had the pig dispatched by the farmer, who removed the head and cut the carcass in two.
I walked down to the neighbors just in time to find the halved hog rolling in on the back of a motorbike. A tarp and banana leaves were laid on the ground, and the pig was divided by weight. Every bit was divided. Nothing was wasted. Once everyone was satisfied, we wheeled our half to the house. On the freshly cleaned shop floor, the family assembled and began the task of processing and preparing the carcass for the dinner table. In addition to the fresh pork, we raided the chicken coupe that night. We selected a few plump birds to join the pig on the table. With the gardens ready to harvest herbs and vegetables, and fresh rice from the fields, it would indeed be a time of plenty.
This Time It Wasn’t Me
The last of the family, the oldest brother, his wife, and his son, arrived early Monday morning. By that evening, the house was being visited by two women with official-looking paperwork. I immediately thought they had come for me. But they had not. I’ve been in An Lao for over a week, and I’m fine. It was the last to arrive whom they came to see. After they left Saigon and during their transit, the outbreak had grown substantially in Saigon. Lockdowns were beginning to be issued in the south. They skirted in just in time. The ladies had come to do a follow-up and make sure their medical declarations were accurate.
The local authorities were taking few chances the following day. A team was dispatched to facilitate two types of Covid tests on my brother-in-law, his wife, and their son, and disinfect the house. With Saigon just beginning renewed lockdowns now and Tết ramping up across the country, it could be a more extended than anticipated holiday. A reality for which we had prepared. We are ready to stay in An Lao as long as we need. Unfortunately, Vietnam has fought hard and diligently to keep the virus at bay, only to get it out of control just before the biggest holiday. Hopefully, it will be dealt with swiftly, as has been the case in the past.
The Family Altar
With everyone home and Tết drawing near, it was time for the family to assemble the annual Altar to the spirit god Ông Táo. Believed to reside in the kitchen of every home, Ông Táo returns to heaven just before Tết to discuss the family’s situation and fortune with the Jade Emperor, believed to be the ruler of heaven. Ông Táo in more ancient times was three individual gods, Tho Dia, Tho Cong, and Tho Ky, who oversaw the three pillars of the home, family, business, and kitchen. This three-pronged deity of the house is why the Vietnamese outside stove still possesses three prongs with which to place your cooking vessel.
Every home displays its Altar filled with offerings in hopes of favor in heaven and a prosperous new year. Here we served ours with freshly killed and cooked chicken, sweet and savory rice dishes, fruit, beer, and Ba also displayed his tools on the Altar to bring his business good fortune. The purpose is an offering to Ông Táo in hopes of receiving an excellent report to heaven. And to provide the spirit with what he may need to make the journey into the beyond.
Cool Mountain Evenings
The weather here in An Lao has been magical. The days are barely hot enough to break a sweat late in the afternoon if one is inclined to try. The nights are cool enough for a light jacket if going out. In front of the shaded window, a fan I have in our bedroom keeps our room at a perfect temperature day and night. With the family assembled, the evenings turn into wandering nights of what to do. My oldest brother-in-law, who has a house across the lane, Hai, sets up his Karaoke machine for some evening fun. And Diem and Kevin can often be found getting the family tidied up for a holiday with nail treatments and fresh haircuts.
The children can often be found playing a traditional board game known as Cờ cá ngựa on the porch or in the kitchen of Mom and Dad’s house. A horse racing game that evolved from an ancient Indian game known as Pachisi that made its way into Indochina in the time of the Khans. The ancient game is also the basis for the American classics Parcheesi and Sorry!. There is usually an evening snack on the outside table and a hammock to relax in. The evenings are genuinely magical here in the village.
On the Eve of Tết
After more than a week of general excitement around the village and home, Tết had arrived. I wanted to say it finally arrived, but that wouldn’t be accurate. Instead, it came as if the earth was spinning at the speed of light. We arrived as February began, now it was ten days later. But how? It doesn’t seem physically possible. Every time I come to An Lao, it just seems to consume time like a ferocious cosmic dragon. I awoke with the sun peeking through the window and barely had time to brush my teeth as Diem rushed us out the door.
The local street market
Diem, myself, and two sisters headed out of the village about 2 kilometers to the Chợ Xuân Phong market in An Hòa. The morning was cool and crisp. The market was bustling and packed. The almost overnight explosion in the mountain district was beyond tangible. We had come to procure some produce and a few groceries to supplement the abundance already at home. Everyone seemed to have the same idea.
The market was overflowing with flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and anything else you might need for the coming days. The markets and stores would close down this afternoon for the next few days. If you needed anything, now was the time. With the market stretched to its limits to accommodate the masses, it was sometimes difficult for me to maneuver in the cramped, dark spaces of the market. The coming of Tết is a time of abundance for all. The families that depend on this market to survive will reap a good reward now. Filling their coffers to help sustain them in the coming year.
Honoring the dead
As morning faded into day, it was time to begin the preparations for the family members no longer here with us in this realm. Mom had been cooking and preparing unique dishes for a couple of days now, and this morning was no exception. On the way out this morning, I was able to snap a picture of her preparing the traditional sticky rice cakes that are the most iconic dish of Tết. The sticky rice logs are wrapped in banana leaf and stuffed with mung bean paste or fermented pork. The packages are boiled in a large cauldron for several hours.
Some of these dishes, fresh flowers, rice wine, and other offerings, are compiled on the special altars in the main dining room. I spent some time with my father-in-law preparing the altars to honor the family members. The table of the father’s family has a picture of his mother and father. We will additionally pack it with gifts throughout the coming days. With every meal and visitor, the Altar will be kept whole and always with incense burning.
A somber time
I can’t say I didn’t fight a few tears as we placed the fruit and decorations around the pictures. It is believed that the spirits of the family return home for Tết. Therefore, it is essential to make sure they have a warm welcome with food, drink, fresh flowers, and incense. I went to her grave two years ago to help clean her gravesite for Tết. It’s strange how only a few minor encounters have caused me to deeply connect to this event, place, and time.
Another Walk in the woods
As the afternoon begins to melt into the evening, it is time for the last ritual before Tết officially arrives. Diem, myself, her mother, brothers, and father gathered offerings, incense, candles, and fresh flowers and made our way across the causeways and through the rice fields. We parked in the middle of nowhere on the edge of a large hill surrounded by rice. I clambered through the woods, doing my best to keep up and eventually making our way onto the hilltop onto a collection of graves scattered through the forest. We have come to clean the graves and pay our respects to the family that has gone before us into the next life.
I had the pleasure of experiencing this for the first time two years ago when I accompanied Diem home for Tết. It was my first time meeting her family. It was my first Tết. How so much has changed in two years. That Tết ushered in a time of great fortune for Diem and me. One can’t help but hope that trend endures. We swept the above-ground crypts and decorated the graves with our offerings. We said our prayers and meditated on the moment with long-gone loved ones. I still find myself holding back tears at the tomb of Diem’s aunt. My mother in law’s sister. She was taken at the age of 17 in 1972. When war ravaged the land, and treatable diseases took as many as the war itself. One can’t help but do some serious reflection in the woods among the rice fields.
For the post from the first time I visited these graves click here.
