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| Mr. Le Thong alongside clusters of Burmese grapes |
“In a good season, my orchard yields about 9 to 10 tons of fruit. During peak ripening period, there are days when I harvest 350 to 400 kilograms. Even with prices fluctuating between 25,000 and 45,000 VND per kilogram depending on the timing and variety, these trees still bring my family a decent annual income,” Mr. Le Thong shared.
“The orchard has over 100 dâu tiên (a local variety of Burmese grape known for its mild aroma and sweet aftertaste) trees; the rest are dâu đất (Burmese grapes), dâu lá (broad-leaf Burmese grape), and a few varieties I grafted with wild forest trees. But that came later. Decades ago, my orchard could only be described as... diverse,” Mr. Thong said with a smile.
Graduating with a university degree in agriculture in Hue in 1981, Mr. Le Thong went to work in the former Phu Khanh Province, which is now part of Dak Lak and Khanh Hoa provinces. During his time there, he happened upon a Burmese grape tree in an acquaintance’s garden. It bore fruit with a gentle aroma and a sweet, crisp taste that left a lingering aftertaste on the tip of the tongue.
Deeply impressed by this distinctive flavor, a year later, upon transferring back to Hue, he asked for two saplings to plant in his home garden in the former Thuy Bang Commune. “After growing them for a while and making a comparison, it turned out I was ‘carrying coals to Newcastle.’ As it happens, this very fruit tree was already widely grown in Tuan, Kim Long, and especially Truoi, which the people of Hue commonly call dâu tiên,” Mr. Thong said.
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| The chay tree (Tonkin mock lime) transplanted by Mr. Thong into his home garden |
The story of the Burmese grape tree faded into the background for a while. Then, in early 1987, leaving Thuy Bang behind, Mr. Thong decided to move to Binh Dien to reclaim wild land and build a livelihood. After two years of clearing the land entirely on his own, with the garden area reaching nearly two hectares, he decided to plant fruit trees. "I planted around thirty different kinds, including guavas, mangoes, star apples, custard apples... and I layered two branches from the Phu Khanh variety I had brought back earlier to plant here, with the wish to gather all of Hue's fruit trees into my own garden," he recalled.
Because too many varieties were crowded into a single garden plot, some trees were ill-suited to thrive and had to be phased out over time, leaving only the two dâu tiên trees growing robustly. Realizing that this land was well-suited for the fruit, Mr. Thong began expanding his Burmese grapes orchard. At the same time, he sought out other varieties like Burmese grapes and broad-leaf Burmese grapes to graft with wild forest trees for planting, gradually eliminating the remaining fruit trees.
The land did not disappoint the man. After the initial sparse harvests, by 2015, his orchard began bearing fruit simultaneously, providing a stable harvest ever since.
Mr. Thong’s decision not to grow Burmese grapes exclusively, but to include other varieties instead, came from a calculated strategy: the Burmese grape harvest season begins around the mid-fourth lunar month and lasts until the first half of the sixth lunar month, while the other varieties yield fruit from the seventh to the tenth lunar month. Although Burmese grapes remains the primary source of revenue, this cultivation method extends his family's harvest period, ensuring a steadier income.
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| The bo quan (Ficus racemosa) tree — where part of Mr. Thong’s memories live on |
Although there are no official statistics, Mr. Thong is widely recognized as the owner of the largest number of Burmese grape trees in Hue. He is also acknowledged as the first person to bring the Burmese grape variety to cultivate in a home garden in Binh Dien. “I’m very happy that the locals say so, but if it weren’t for my stubbornly independent nature, I probably wouldn’t have this ‘title’,” Mr. Thong said as he plucked a bunch of dâu tiên to offer his guests a taste.
In truth, Mr. Thong’s "stubborn independence" was actually a form of sharp intuition and foresight. Back when he had just finished reclaiming the land, a movement to plant smallholder rubber trees was launched across many areas. At that time, project officials came to see him repeatedly to persuade him, but he refused, determined to grow nothing but fruit trees. Fast forward to the present, while many others have shifted to different fruit crops, he has turned to "specialized cultivation" of the Burmese grape.
Patting the tree trunk, Mr. Thong turned to me and asked in a half-joking, half-serious tone: “Bet you can’t guess what tree this is?”. Without waiting for his guest to guess, he laughed and answered right away: “This chay tree (Tonkin mock lime) was from a trip to my wife’s hometown; I asked for it to plant here. As for those two trees over on the other side, one is a bồ quân (governor’s plum) and the other is a bứa (garcinia tree). Birds must have eaten their fruit in the forest, flown by, and ‘planted’ them in my garden.”
As the pale yellow afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy, Mr. Thong gently ran his hand over the rough bark of the tree trunk, as if touching a piece of the past: “Fruits are everywhere these days. Local or imported, the markets are flooded with them—every season has its crop, at all price points. But these rustic, wild fruits like bứa, chay, and bồ quân... you could search until your eyes turn red now and still might not find them. I keep these trees to hold onto a bit of memory from those hard times, and so my children and grandchildren will know just how much their grandparents cherished these simple fruits...”
Following Mr. Thong to the Burmese grape trees that were nearing harvest, his voice was steady yet carried a weight that invited reflection: “Many people wonder why, with the same crop variety and the same soil conditions, the trees they plant don't thrive and the fruit doesn't taste good... Truth be told, there is no secret. You just need to care for the tree from planting to harvest, and if possible, pour into it a little love, a little attachment to the land you live on. Then, the trees will thrive, and the fruit will taste sweet,” Mr. Thong said with a gentle smile.
“My birth certificate says I was born in 1962, but to be exact, I was born in 1960, so I’m nearly seventy now. That’s my age, but I’m only just getting my feet wet in tourism,” he said. Upon further inquiry, it turned out that keeping pace with Binh Dien's transformation, Mr. Thong was one of the pioneers turning his orchard of Burmese grapes into an "agritourism" destination in this region.
At that time, concepts like "agritourism" or "eco-tourism destinations" were somewhat abstract to the old farmer. However, with the support and encouragement of local organizations and authorities, backed by his own faith in the trees he had spent decades nurturing, Mr. Thong "took a leap of faith" and launched his tour package, "Journey to the Land of Burmese grapes." “Instead of harvesting the fruit to sell at the market, I shifted to 'selling' the shade of the trees, 'selling' the experience of pulling down a branch to pluck the fruit yourself, and 'selling' the very stories of a human life deeply intertwined with the life of the trees,” he shared.
Having spent his whole life befriending the soil, taking on the dual role of a "tour guide" naturally filled Mr. Thong with a mix of excitement and anxiety during those early days. He worried whether guests would truly enjoy this rustic pleasure, and how on earth to stop... trembling when "speaking in front of a crowd." Yet, alongside that, he was overjoyed to see visitors standing in utter amazement before the fruit-laden trees, and deeply moved as his home garden, for the very first time, came alive with the laughter and chatter of travelers from afar.
“I’m planning to add canopies and clean walkways, and set up a few bamboo bamboo bamboo beds for guests to sit on and sip tea, capturing that true rustic essence. Doing tourism is exhausting, honestly, but it’s joyful. Seeing people cherish the trees I’ve grown makes me feel, deep down, that all the sweat poured into this land over the decades was completely worth it,” Mr. Thong confided.
In the story of Binh Dien’s recent positive strides, Mr. Le Thong’s Burmese grape orchard seems to have expanded far beyond a mere calculation of household economic development. For behind those seasons of sweet harvest lies a deep love, a legitimate aspiration to thrive, and a powerful shift in the mindset, thought, and action of both the local authorities and the people on their very own homeland.