Sacrificing Everything for the Traditional Rice Plant
Table of Contents
Preserving Ancient Farming Tools
At first, Mr. Lê Quốc Việt spent years collecting old agricultural tools. Some remained, others were lost to time. For those no longer existing, he consulted the elderly and hired local craftsmen to reproduce them.
After many years, he assembled a collection—plows, harrows, threshers, rice pounders, grain mills—but it was still incomplete. Each tool carried its own story.
For example, to acquire an old forest-clearing plow (called cày lẹm), he had to drink three rounds with its owner. After two failed attempts to purchase it, the third time, moved by his sincerity, the owner gave it to him as a gift.
Building a Museum of Rice Culture
In 2017, he fenced off his family’s 2.5-hectare plot and built a “Rice Culture House,” spending 3.6 billion VND—over 1 billion still unpaid, though borrowed without interest.
Next came the arduous task of finding traditional rice varieties. He asked friends working in district agricultural departments, but none remained. He then sought out elderly farmers to recall old varieties and visited Cần Thơ University to retrieve preserved seeds such as Ba Bụi and Chim Rơi. He received five varieties, about 200 grains each.
Upon sowing, Chim Rơi and Ba Bụi survived—but rats devoured the others.
The challenges didn’t stop there. “All around me are short-term rice fields. No one grows long-term rice like me,” he said. “So the birds from the whole province and rats from the whole district came to feast.”
In 2018, he sowed 1.5 hectares but harvested only a few hundred kilograms—barely enough for seed. In 2019, he tried Ba Bụi and Trắng Tép Vàng, encouraging local farmers to grow them while he bought back the harvest. Yet the rice couldn’t sell.
“In the past, when we were poor, everything tasted good. Now, it feels too hard,” he laughed. “Seasonal rice sells at the same price as low-grade rice because it competes with ST25—soft and fragrant. I’ve lost over 350 million VND growing traditional rice.”
Currently, he is most satisfied with Nàng Thơm, Tàu Hương, and two promising varieties—Ba Trăng and Châu Hồng Vỏ.
Sustaining Traditional Cultivation
To protect his fields, Mr. Việt leased two extra plots on both ends of his land, expanding to 2.5 hectares in total. These serve as buffer zones, shielding his pesticide-free traditional fields and sharing the burden of birds and rats.
Despite the heavy financial loss, his passion remains strong, even without family support. “Back then, my wife complained a lot about seasonal rice. Now she complains less—that’s progress,” he joked.
Back in the 1980s, Cần Thơ University collected 1,988 traditional rice varieties and preserved them in cold storage. Mr. Việt is now collaborating with the Mekong Delta Development Research Institute to regrow 800 of these to rejuvenate the gene pool—since some no longer germinate after decades.
Reviving the Rice Civilization
Mr. Việt is not just reviving seasonal rice—he is reviving the entire way of life that accompanied it: listening to frogs and toads to predict rain, scaring birds, catching fish for trui grilling, playing hopscotch, flying kites, and performing Khmer Dù Kê songs.
He organizes “planting festivals,” “harvest days,” and “pounding rice” events where visitors can taste traditional rice cooked the old-fashioned way.
He also restored biodiversity on his land. For 20 years, his fields were rented out—over 40 crops of chemical-intensive farming had killed weeds and fish alike. After he stopped using pesticides, vegetation slowly returned. He even reintroduced extinct grasses. Native fish like snakehead, perch, and gourami revived naturally, while eels, climbing perch, turtles, and soft-shell turtles were reintroduced by his own hand.
Yet, some species failed to reproduce—like marine perch and eels—because tidal flows no longer reach the fields. Still, the ponds now teem with fish, “fighting like bettas,” he smiled.
Passing the Torch to the Next Generation
Mr. Việt’s son helped him gather water hyacinths as a child, but when asked to study agriculture, he refused. That remains his greatest concern—who will carry on the rice culture legacy after him?
“When young volunteers visit, I tell them: if you love rice culture, come listen. After ten visits, you’ll feel it. When I can no longer speak, they will tell the stories.”
He knows the tools will decay one day, so he is writing a book to preserve the knowledge. “I don’t expect seasonal rice to be grown widely again,” he said. “When we eat less rice, that’s when we should return to it.”
“For thousands of years, our rice civilization was built on these traditional varieties—adapted to the soil and climate. Seasonal rice absorbs the full essence of heaven and earth without chemical fertilizers. It grows with the rains and ripens when the rains stop, leaving seeds for the next generation.”
A Cooperative for the Future
In addition to his 2.5-hectare plot, he now partners with farmers near the Cái Lớn – Cái Bé estuary and Vĩnh Quới islet, cultivating 20–30 hectares each season. The area’s shrimp farming creates ideal conditions for “one rice, one shrimp” cycles.
Since 2020, he has led a Traditional Rice Cultivation Cooperative Group. Two months into retirement, he and his peers founded the Creative Farmers Cooperative to increase income, strengthen the rice–shrimp farming community, and share the rice culture through tourism activities—especially farm-to-field experiences that connect visitors with the living heritage of Vietnam’s rice civilization.