I Have a Dream
Table of Contents
Every time Mr. Lê Quốc Việt is invited to speak about traditional rice culture, he feels pure happiness. Universities like An Giang, Cần Thơ, and the University of Social Sciences and Humanities have all brought students to his farm to learn.
Nearby, the Ethnic Boarding High School, where over 90% of students are Khmer, also visits often. Most of the farming tools he has collected come from Khmer culture — from the very people who first cultivated the Mekong Delta. When these students visit, he not only welcomes them for free but also offers refreshments so they can see the tools of their ancestors — the pioneers of the rice plains.
A Farmer’s Sacrifice and Resilience
During our visit to the rice fields, I noticed his shoulder tilted slightly. When asked, he explained honestly:
“Growing traditional rice doesn’t bring much money, so I can’t hire anyone. I do everything myself — sowing, cleaning, weighing, packing, carrying, even pulling sacks of rice. Recently, my shoulder hurt badly; I thought it was normal, but the doctor said it was a sprain with a joint gap.”
Kim Loan, a woman from Cần Thơ who loves traditional rice, sent him some herbal liquor to ease his pain. After some time, she texted, “Are you feeling better?”
He replied, “Thanks to your medicine, my back feels much better.”
Startled, she said, “That’s for rubbing, not drinking! Go see a doctor!”
Fortunately, he only took a small sip each evening — “just one shot,” he laughed.
Dr. Trần Quang Phát, now in Australia, also shares Mr. Việt’s fondness for traditional rice — preferring the firmer texture of Chim Rơi and Ba Bụi, or the soft but not sticky Nàng Thơm and Tàu Hương — to chew slowly, savoring both aroma and the sweetness of the soil.
A Philosophy Rooted in the Soil
Mr. Việt explained that near his hometown, thanks to saltwater dams, some farmers now grow 7–8 rice crops every three years. They replant just 7–10 days after harvest, turning the soil into little more than a substrate for chemical fertilizers and pesticides.
“But traditional rice,” he said, “is only grown once a year — no chemical fertilizer, no pesticides. I’m even experimenting with bèo hoa dâu (duckweed) as a natural organic alternative. When you eat this rice, you can taste the sweetness of the earth.”
His traditional rice yields only 1.7–2 tons per hectare — but he isn’t discouraged:
“You have to share your rice with the birds and rats too, don’t you? Normally, my fields have no pests. And when they appear, natural predators come right away. The rice plants even know how to heal themselves.”
The Taste of Patience
After harvest, he sun-dries his rice and stores it in sacks with eucalyptus leaves to repel insects. The storage barn is low and hot, not ideal for preservation — but funds are scarce.
“Freshly harvested seasonal rice doesn’t taste its best right away,” he said. “The rice we’re eating today is only three months old. It’s like an 18-year-old girl — beautiful but moody, not ready for marriage. At six months, it’s like a woman of 24—mature and perfect. Between ten months and a year, it’s at its prime — rich, sweet, and irresistible.”
A Dream for the Next Generation
He looked toward his fields and said softly:
“I have a dream — that one day someone will continue my work. Then I can spend my days talking about and writing books on traditional rice culture instead of farming myself. I’m getting old.”
“Right now, I sell my rice for 30,000–40,000 VND per kilogram, and people say it’s too expensive. Maybe they don’t understand what I’m doing. But when our people start eating for their health — just a few kilos of rice each month — they’ll think of traditional rice.
When everyone realizes that, the traditional rice will return. All illnesses enter through the mouth. My grandmother lived past 80 with smooth, fair skin. When asked her secret, she said she washed her face with rice water — from traditional rice.”
Carrying on the Story
As we parted, he smiled and said:
“After publishing The Life of Seasonal Rice in My Homeland and Minh Lương – My Beloved Hometown, I’m now working on my third book — Oh, My Dear Seasonal Rice.”
Looking at his tireless devotion to rice — the sweat, the sacrifice, the love — I knew this would not be my last visit.