Tet Sounds – Countryside Tet

There are sounds of Tet that do not make people feel bustling and joyful, but only cause a restless, poignant longing for one's hometown to rise. Especially when living far from home or in a foreign land, just hearing "Tet – Countryside Tet" faintly somewhere during the late winter and early spring days is enough to know that Tet in the hometown has arrived very close

Someone’s lyrical, overflowing singing, with a touch of gentle sadness: "The peach tree on Tet is about to bloom..." makes us feel as if the moment of transition between the old and the new year has reached the doorstep. Everyone has their own realm of memories, but perhaps, the nostalgia for the sounds of Tet is never old.

In those days, the booming and harsh sounds of large firecrackers and the rhythmic popping of small ones echoed throughout the villages and hamlets, signaling that Tet was coming. Although more than thirty years have passed, those memories are now like a legend of the past, but every time I think back, my heart still swells with emotion. Shouts at the beginning of the alley, mingled with the squealing of pigs—as if calling for help in someone's yard—the whole village eagerly slaughtered pigs for Tet, making the half-year effort of contributing bran to raise them together worthwhile.

Wrapping Banh Chung for Tet Meat was divided equally from the trotters, fat, and tenderloin to the ribs; the organs were boiled together, waiting to be divided later. Some Tet stories of a certain time may no longer be appropriate today, but as memories, they are hard to forget every time Spring arrives.

Old Tet and modern Tet differ greatly, but both are joyful in their own way. One is the joy of sitting by the pot of Banh Chung—cold yet warm, filled with the murmur of laughter. The other is the joy of packing suitcases for domestic and international travel. Tet sounds—the voice of Tet, the words of Tet, the atmosphere of Tet—though changing over time, remain the anchor for human emotions. However, that old countryside Tet, though long gone, is still a place where every time we hear it again, we know that Tet still has a very soft breath in our memories, the memories of every child of Vietnam.

Speaking of countryside Tet, one cannot help but mention Banh Chung. Families are busy all year, but when Tet comes, they must wrap a few dozen cakes. Without Banh Chung, it is as if there is no Tet. On the final night of the year, the small kitchen, the corner of the yard, or the garden is never quiet. The sound of the Banh Chung pot boiling rhythmically, the crackling of firewood, and the murmuring conversation of adults throughout the late night. Children with eyes red from sleepiness still try to stay awake to wait for the tiny cake—my hometown calls it bánh dùa. The sounds of the village blending with kitchen smoke and the pungent smell of boiled dong leaves create a very distinct flavor of Tet—something that only upon growing up or going far from home does one feel a heart-wrenching nostalgia for.

On New Year's Eve, every house with a radio would turn it up loud; those who were better off had a black-and-white television to watch spring music programs or cải lương (reformed opera). At the moment of the transition, the whole family sat together, listening in silence to every New Year greeting from the President, as if swallowing whole the hope for the new year. On the streets, people going to pick lộc (buds) and giving New Year greetings had already begun to bustle. Children in my hometown cheered, even climbing trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks being set off from the far-off Capital.

On the morning of the first day, the village roads suddenly became unusually lively. Greetings and Tet wishes rang out warmly and affectionately, as if people were seeing each other for the first time in a whole year. Children wearing new clothes for the first time chirped with laughter while holding bright red envelopes in their hands. Somewhere, gentle spring tunes played, enough to warm people's hearts amidst the chilly early year weather. In that subsidy period, though the economy was difficult and the country was divided, the sounds of Tet from those old years remain fresh to this day, still lingering in the memories of our generation. Perhaps, without hearing the countryside Tet, without living in the sounds of the countryside Tet, one can hardly grow up completely. However, as Tet comes and goes, the sighs of grandmothers and housewives in every home remain—exhausted, very exhausted because of Tet.

Modern Tet sounds have changed significantly from the past. Today's Tet is bustling, vibrant, and convenient, but it also seems more hurried and less profound. The voice of Tet has become diverse and widespread, especially in cities, urban areas, or industrial zones: Tet music, electronic music, and pop music ring out continuously from commercial centers and cultural houses. Large LED screens, loud sounds, plus the noise of vehicles and horns at airports and bus stations, create a feeling that Tet is very close but also very noisy and hectic. New Year's Eve now consists of the sound of fireworks on TV, livestreams, and Tet greetings via social media. Modern Tet seems louder, more widely connected, reaching globally, but people hear each other talk less. Today's Tet sounds are fast, powerful, and brilliant—like a vibrant hip-hop track, constantly jumping. Truly a Tet of the technological age.

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Source: Báo Tiền phong