Tao Son – Am water wells and village tea

Thái Hạo

Not the sophistication of the Japanese tea ceremony nor the profoundness of the Chinese style. The tea in my hometown is rustic but pure, soulful, and delicate.

People draw water from Am well. Photo: Thai Hao.

My hometown is Tao Son – now Thanh Son and Thanh Thuy communes of Nghi Son town, Thanh Hoa, a village like many other Vietnamese villages. But what keeps me curious and strange is the hobby of drinking tea. I am water tea.

Drinking tea is nothing worth mentioning because Vietnamese people in this country don’t have tea leaves anywhere. My village is near the mountain, away from a small field. At the foot of the hill is an ancient well called Am Well. Am is not a “village well” like the model in ancient Vietnamese villages; it is not in the town…

Listening to the elders, the well existed several hundred years ago. In the past, this place was a pagoda, Am Pagoda. The well was dug to get water to serve that temple. During the years of land reform, pagodas everywhere were destroyed, and Am pagoda became a ruin. My grandfather told me that Buddha statues were piled up and burned for several days before the fire burned out. This well remains the liver and the broken mulberries, sinking into the Vietnamese village.

When I was a child, going to herd buffalo, I saw the villagers collecting Am water. Water was filled in two tin barrels and carried from the mountains. The closest houses were about a few hundred meters away, while the far houses were several kilometers away. Along the way, we had to rest several times to get there. People carrying water are usually girls, women, or middle-aged men. The water brought home is only used for one thing: making tea. Anyone who uses that water to bathe or do laundry feels guilty…

The view from Well Am mountain towards Tao Son village. Photo: Thai Hao.

In the village, every house has a well filled with water, but no one uses that water to make tea. Whether sunny, rainy, day or night, you must get water from Am well. When I was a child, I often heard the elders and uncles in the village say that without water from the Am well, the tea would be ruined.

Am well water makes the tea greener, sweeter, more prosperous, and more fragrant, especially with no residue at the bottom of the cup, even though excess water in the cup has been left for a day. Drinking healthy tea makes people addicted. The good news spread far and wide, and people from neighboring villages and communes also came to get it over time.

From there, the road to Am Well always seems to have people walking back and forth leisurely and calmly. Going to get Am water has become a natural activity, as carefree as the breath of the village; no one bothers or sees you. You have to try nothing. When you run out of water, get water, that’s it.

I have witnessed that on days of prolonged drought, the fields are dry and thirsty, the Am well is also dry, the water is leaking, and many people are using it, so getting water becomes very difficult. To get a bucket of water to make tea sometimes takes an hour of waiting, so many people have to be on duty day and night to wait for their turn.

Buckets, barrels, and plastic cans are lined up in long rows. When there is not enough time during the day to get water to all the villagers, people must wait at night. During the years of drought, Am Well was awake for several months. People bring up the buckets, and if there are already many people waiting, they put the buckets in order and go home to sleep. When it’s their turn, they get up the mountain to get water.

A view of Am well. Photo: Thai Hao.

Some leave at midnight, some go out at one or two o’clock and carry the load on their shoulders… All night like that, people come and go non-stop. Young people often stay awake, gathering to smoke, drink tea and chat while waiting for water… On nights like that, Am Well has a festival.

Even though I have to wait all day to get tens of litres of water, my villagers are always happy to wait, rarely seeing anyone complain. And it’s rare to see anyone fighting over water. Everyone waited and talked, even about farming, weddings, death anniversaries, or endless gossip.

When Am water was scarce, people in neighbouring communes had been drinking it but couldn’t stop, so they were still waiting to get it. The funny thing is that even though that well belongs to my village, when it was most “difficult” to get a bucket of water, no one commented or prohibited anything from people in other places. Whoever comes first will wait and get it; whoever comes later gets it.

My grandmother is over 70 years old and still carries Am water. Rice can be pickled daily, but tea must be from Am country. In the last years of her life, she no longer ate betel, but she did not give up tea. My grandparents’ house became a gathering place for children and grandchildren in their leisure time, gathering around a pot of tea and talking about East and West. Now she’s gone, and he’s alone. He is over 90, he still drinks Am water like when she was alive, and his children and grandchildren still gather in the front yard.

Am well is dry this season. Photo: Thai Hao.

Water is like that; every family has a ceramic jar in the house to store it; it is “put in the house” and not in the yard or corner of the garden. Some people even keep a large jar right in the living room. If a house, unfortunately, runs out of Am water, even if the well is still full, they will have to take the kettle to a neighbour and ask for it.

When we were children, we herded buffaloes and cows. Cross a small field from the village, then pass Am well to climb Ve mountain. Well, Am became a gathering place for children. In the past, the mountains still had trees, the underground water had not dried up, and the Am well was complete all year round. The water overflowed, flowing out of the well, making an entire sandy land grow green, never changing colour.

Am well is full of water during the season. Photo: Nam Luong.

Am Well, at that time, was very beautiful, surrounded by natural rocks, grass, and algae that were green like jade, and the water was green like jade. A strange stone slab deeply embedded in the shore extends out into the middle of the well. The person who went to get water just walked straight up there, bowed his shoulders, put down both buckets and turned around to carry it back. During the hot summer days of herding buffalo, in thirst, when I tilt my head back to drink a breath of water, Am feels the coolness and sweetness as if it wants to make my body melt amidst the trees and vast fields.

Then the well dried up, and during the days when the Lao wind dried up, a businessman from far away from home came to visit and gave the village some money to re-dig the well. That strangely beautiful stone slab was torn down, the well became broader and deeper, and a wall was built around it. The lush green lawns disappeared. But there’s only a little more water…

My villagers contributed money to dig another well at the foot of Nga mountain, “sharing the fire” for Am well, apparently for more than 50 million. Renting a high-capacity excavator, a few days later, a broad and deep well appeared, with immense water that never ran dry. It was called May Well. A bridge was built across the stream, a road to the well was built, the healthy yard was paved with clean concrete, and trees were planted for shade. The villagers were as happy as a festival, eagerly building the well and eager to get water. But then gradually, gradually. Nowadays, it is rare to see anyone going to May Well to get water because it is less delicious than Am water. Returning to Am well, staying up all night to pour out a bucket of water…

Author Thai Hao (right) enjoys tea mixed with Am well water with researcher Hoang Tuan Cong.

Healthy water has created a tea culture in my hometown. The older adults in the neighbourhood call each other every morning and have tea until noon, while the young people have tea in the evening. In every house, after meals, there is always good tea. Refreshment and satisfaction appear on each face when sipping hot tea. Stories from the village’s beginning to the town’s end are all around Am teapots…

As precious as Am water is, the way to mix and drink it could be more picky. Green tea is picked from the garden, washed, drained, crushed, put into a kettle and boiled. Initially, add about a third of the kettle, rinse vigorously, let it “make feathers”, pour it out, then pour water back in and incubate for about ten minutes in a basket lined with straw or cotton. At this time, the water was yellow-green, poured into a large bowl, swirling, fragrant smoke rising.

If you want the green tea to last a long time, after brewing for a few minutes, add a small glass of cold water to the pot and let it keep its colour all day. Drinking dry tea (my hometown often calls it Thai Nguyen tea) is also simple. Put the tea in a porcelain or earthen pot, pour in boiling water, let it cook for about a minute, pour it out, then add water again, and wait a few minutes to drink. Water that is too cold or hot is not delicious and will make the tea sour; Therefore, making tea or sparkling water is just right…

Am country, this name has probably gone deep into the lifestyle and thinking of my villagers. It became something pure and sweet amidst the mud and darkness of a village that had experienced many disasters and broken berries. The country of Am has supported many uneducated farmers in my hometown, who spent their entire lives bowing in the fields and yards, making them touch the “luxury” and nobility but simplicity. Here, there is something that goes beyond the daily calculations of self-interest to enjoy life like wealthy people, without any colour or pretence.

Today, even though life in the countryside is better off and urbanization has invaded every family, strangely enough, my people still drink Am water like in the past, Still following the same routine, staying awake to get a bucket of water, sitting together by the Am teapot and talking about our children’s studies, about a newly arrested mandarin, about rice fields being bitten by rats…

Not the sophistication of the Japanese tea ceremony nor the profoundness of the Chinese style, the tea in my hometown is rustic but pure, Kind but delicate.

“Am well water” is strange to me; it makes seemingly simple farmers suddenly become a secret around them. It makes me ask big questions about the soul of the countryside, the ordinary people and the Vietnamese culture in thousands of generations of villages. Correct! There must be something profound in the soul of a race that has anchored it amid abject poverty, destruction and pain, violence and deception, and changing things for hundreds of years. Via…