The celebration of festivals, finding love, honouring ancestors and dealing with the joys and sorrows of life without the singing of folk songs is completely incomprehensible to Ngu Khai Phuong, a 76-year-old Pu Y ethnic minority man.
Life without old folk songs is, however, exactly what Phuong’s community is facing. The Pu Y, concentrated in Ha Giang and Lao Cai Provinces, are just like all other ethnic minorities who are struggling to preserve their unique language and culture as their communities are increasingly opened-up to mainstream Vietnamese influence. Efforts at preservation are often an uphill battle with few resources to help; despite these obstacles some elders feel compelled to take action as they watch youth growing up without knowledge of their heritage.
One such elder is Phuong, who lives in a remote area of Ha Giang Province and is working tirelessly to pass on Pu Y songs and culture to the younger generations.
Phuong performs the Pu Y folk songs he loves. A trip to meet this man is not for the faint of heart as travelling to this northernmost province requires a willingness to drive on roads that seem to barely cling to mountainsides with drops into deep abyss on one side and fog and mist often encircling the landscape. The landscape in this mountainous region is both formidable and extremely picturesque.
Upon nearing Phuong’s home in the small village of Nam Luong, the air is likely to be cold and the landscape will occasionally include scenes of ethnic minority people hard at work in their fields on the mountain slopes. No car can undertake the last part of the trip to Phuong’s simple and small house; it is only after a trek on foot up a hill that the journey to meet the man is complete.
Despite his advanced years, Phuong is healthy and vibrant and is eager to discuss the importance Pu Y songs for himself and his people. When he was young, villagers often organised large-scale festivals where they would drink maize wine and sing folk-songs all day. Pu Y couples would publicly sing love-songs to attract one another and find their life-mates. During Tet, ceremonies to honour elders, or new house blessings, for example, special songs would be sung.
At an early age, Phuong became passionate about these old folk songs. He remembers listening to the respected elder in the village sing and then practising the songs until they became a part of him. During the nine years Phuong served in the army, he says he often sang songs for his fellow soldiers during their operations.
After working in Quan Ba’s Health Department for many years, Phuong retired and started devoting himself to collecting old Pu Y’s folk songs. When he craved singing, he would go to his friend’s house to sing and remember his youth. As the years went on, the community sang the old folk songs less and less making his efforts at preservation even more important.
Phuong said, "When I die, I only worry that these Pu Y folk songs will also die. Pu Y people’s descendants won’t remember their forefathers’ songs." It was this great worry that led Phuong to take his collection and start devoting himself to teaching others.
Phuong claims the Pu Y folk songs must be passed on from person-to-person, because the "Pu Y melody is more difficult than those of other ethnic groups." Another difficult feature of the songs is that there is no limit to the number of words in a sentence.
Beginning last year , Phuong started a class which runs every evening during the summer holiday so that children have time to participate. There are about 25 students from the ages of 9-16, with the youngest one trekking through the darkness from two hills over to join the class. He has detailed lesson plans and concentrates on 43 different songs. He also teaches Pu Y language and some Vietnamese.
To give an example of what he teaches his students, Phuong sings a passage from the song, Our fates don’t match. His voice breaks the peaceful silence with the sad refrain:
"My darling, I am very sorry and sad
I am very sorry because our fate doesn’t suit each other
I am very sad because our fate doesn’t match
Our fate doesn’t suit each other so we can’t eat from the same pot
Our fate doesn’t match so we can’t eat from the same pan
Our fate doesn’t coincide so we can’t stay in the same house."
Phuong has the support from community leaders who respect his work, but who do not have any extra funds to compensate him for it. For now, just knowing he is playing a part in keeping his culture alive is enough.
(Source: VNS)
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