Village Storytelling: “Bamboo Broom” Village

At that time, bamboo was planted around the village, every house had a big bamboo bush. Bamboo has been grown since a long time ago, so the roots are rough, sticking to the sharp shoots of young shoots. My uncle is a young man who just got back from the army, my grandfather used to talk to him about bamboo trees: “Crushing a girl is like chopping down a bamboo tree in a bush, the more the tree is in the middle, the harder it is to cut, but it’s beautiful and straight. beautiful, more difficult to spread, more docile”. The story he told until later my uncle still repeated as a declaration, as a lesson learned about life. That’s right, what’s easy never lasts and vice versa.

Remember the hot summer afternoons like fire. Looking up at the bamboo top, the soft leaves are still swaying in the wind. My whole family cut bamboo, bundled it into small bundles and dragged it to the middle of the yard. I stroked each dark green bamboo stalk and drew a flower shape with the bamboo thorn. When my grandfather made the bamboo into two pieces, I stripped the white core and tied it to a small stick to make a flag and play a mock battle with my brothers. Listen to the sound of laughter of the whole family after the morning of hard work to cut bamboo.

In the afternoon, my grandfather and uncle took a knife and sharpened it, flattened each piece of bamboo, then used a saw to split it into two bamboo segments. The old bamboo sticks will be split into a broom. Split bamboo tubes into quarters, flatten once. Rotate horizontally, split five or seven for each very thin bamboo fiber. Rotate vertically, split into small bamboo brooms, small brooms like toothpicks, must be so small to sweep away dust on the yard. My grandmother hugged each bunch to dry on the yard for the scorching summer afternoon sun, absorbing moisture from fresh bamboo stalks. Each small broom is tempered in the sun, dry and much stronger. In the summer afternoons, walking along the bamboo slats road covers the yard, every house is white in a straight, neat line.

Young bamboo shoots are usually taken from the bamboo stem at the top. Young bamboo is split into thin slices, dried in the sun and then taken to strip. Those who skilfully strip it will be flexible, when twisting the forks, they will stick together very firmly. I also used a knife to imitate her stripping, but I clumsily cut it hard and cut my hand. The scars of years are still imprinted on her hands, but she has gone a long way. I kept looking at the bamboo broom and thinking about her dearly.

Bamboo lats are braided into a large coil, rolled into a long roll. After the broomsticks were exposed to the sun, my grandfather brought them in and filled the corner of the house. My grandmother took a handful of small broomsticks, wound the wire twisted from the thin strip about five times, she continued to take small handfuls of the spokes wrapped five times like that, but moved it down about an inch so that the broom became Light bevel shape when placed on soft ground sweeping will be easy. About eight handfuls of broomsticks are woven together, the back row is one inch lower than the front row.

Finally, the bamboo broom was completed, and he drove a few small stakes around to give the broom a solid shape. He often called this stage the broom wedge. If a broom needed a handle, he would cut down small bamboo trees with the size of a child’s wrist, growing outside the bun, and forming a small stick that was attached to the broom’s stem, called a broom handle. If you don’t have a handle when sweeping, you just need to stand, while the brush without a handle, you have to bend your back to sweep.

On the market day in the town, Phu Gom market is located about two kilometers from my village along the National Highway 18, the market meets on the tenth, second, fifth, and seventh days. My mother and grandmother piled brooms on a pair of bamboo poles, carefully carrying them on their shoulders rhythmically. Neighbors also take advantage of the fair, they line up to sell early in the morning. The scenery is very beautiful, looking at the flow of people from afar like white flowers moving in rows. When I was a kid, I was just so happy, but now I know, my mother, my grandmother and my aunts’ shoulders are heavy. It is heavy to make a living every day because there are sales and sales sessions. The whole family hopes to be full, and the whole family is looking forward to carrying bamboo brooms at the fair.

In my village, I also make many products from bamboo trees such as: baskets, baskets, baskets, baskets, bamboos, nongs, nia… But nowadays, farmers are sparse, many modern means have replaced them. Outdated furniture cannot be sold to anyone. Fortunately, the bamboo broom still exists, because the villagers still need to sweep the yard on soft ground. Bamboo brooms are still made by my village but there are not many, the whole village has only about ten houses to keep the capital. One summer afternoon, when I passed Miss Bien’s house, I saw rows of brooms drying in the yard. Suddenly, as if I were reunited with a tearful childhood, I remembered my grandfather and grandmother again. The nostalgia burns like a bamboo cutting that summer.

On a sunny April afternoon, I swept the fallen leaves of the crocodile all over my yard. The sound of bamboo brooms clattered, soft bamboo fibers gathered each small leaf into large clusters. I’m afraid to hurt old memories, sweep gently on the soft ground. Constantly wondering, when will the bamboo bushes be cut off, the craft village has no one left to do, where will the bamboo broom go?