All the River has Seen...

Translated, originally written in Portuguese

At 5:00 AM, we boarded a small boat where darkness blurred the sky and the river into one. Along the Mekong's banks, a few lights timidly flicker in houses that seem improvised - some with walls of panels, others of cement, and some, just grids that invite us to enter the lives of those who live in communion with the river. Peering into a house, a man squats, watching a television placed on the floor, seemingly comfortable in that position. Inside several other homes, we see randomly hung hammocks, ready to be placed wherever the sun allows rest. Fans are also abundant, accompanying a collection of objects that appear unrelated to us. The houses stand on wooden stilts or cement blocks, painted with a greenish mark anticipating the rise of water during the rainy season.

We approach a market where locals exchange goods in large quantities to later sell in other markets. Small, shallow boats impress with the loads they carry. The emerging sunlight witnesses the transactions over the river. The agility with which sellers move on the boats is fascinating - using their feet to steer, moving along the edges, stretching, and perching to pass a bag loaded with fruit for a few more Vietnamese dong. There is a constant buzz, interrupted only by those closer to us exchanging goods and words. "In the past, there was no money; everything was done through barter and trade. That's why people from southern Vietnam are so open and communicative," Tu Voung explains.

Now with daylight, we continue down the river, observing how people turn the river into their street and workplace. They move, wash clothes, fish, prepare food, and carry goods in both directions...

Shortly after, the hustle and bustle intensify as we approach another, larger market. "Many people live here; these boats are their homes. When they have children, they cannot go to school because they don't have a residence card. Nowadays, many children stay with grandparents, or their families even have a house on land." Tall masts display the products each boat has to offer, and when the coconut leaf is raised, we know the boat itself is for sale. We look at the boats, and they look back at us. At the bow of the boats, surrounded by vibrant red, a pair of eyes stand out as guides to help the boat find the right path. A smaller boat approaches; it's a floating restaurant with the menu drawn on the hull's wood. A brief exchange of words, and a generous bowl of noodle soup intertwined with pork, tofu, and crab is placed on a board, now positioned to serve as a table on the boat. Accompanied by coffee or tea, this was the flavor of our breakfast, cooked on a boat and cradled by the Mekong.

We gaze at the murky waters of the Mekong River, not only as a source of livelihood or a vibrant market but also as a bustling street and even a home. A river that, more than a background, is a protagonist in the lives of these people. We finally return home slower, now against the current, and heavier with everything we've seen while following the river's path as it embraced all who sought it.