Walking with the H'Mong

by Pia Webley (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Vietnam

The sun seared onto my face as I surveyed the landscape. It was unlike anything I’d seen before; lush green hills and flats, engraved with a pattern that resembled ocean waves. The flowing formation rippled across miles of mountainous terrain and I wondered if the rest of the group felt the same sense of surging movement within the graduated rice paddy slopes. Maybe it’s a Pisces thing, I tell myself. Just like the inevitably of a wave being followed by another, the contours at each level were chased the by the ones above, cascading until they reached base of the hill. “We’ll keep going for another hour, and then we’ll eat,” Mao, our guide announced and with that we took our last glances and pressed on. Day one of our trek across Sapa, Vietnam was getting off to a great start. We planned to cover 12 kilometres a day, and stay with locals on our first evening. Today, we had already lunged down valleys. shuffled across the edges of the rice fields, and passed the river. We looked forward to traversing our way to a big meal. We had researched trekking companies thoroughly, and chosen this one which was run by women from the H’mong tribe rather than going through an agency exploiting natives. Being able to help them make sustainable incomes was something that we were very much on board with, even if the thought of trekking in the relentless heat was a little daunting. Mao led the way and we plodded behind, fixed onto her diminutive figure (she can’t have been more than 4’8), as she nimbly negotiated the inclines and steep paths. I may have even bum shuffled down some drops, but who’s to know for sure. Mao’s deftness was even more impressive, given she had a large wicker bag on her back, containing bottles of water for us all. “If you look over there, you can see China”, she pointed out, and I was in utter amazement of how close we were. Mao was part of the H’Mong tribe, she spoke near perfect English telling us what challenges she triumphs the tribe faced. The main issue was that they were seen as not Vietnamese, and as such, not treated with the same fairness or kindness. I hadn’t encountered anyone in Vietnam that looked like Mao. She wore a purple traditional smock with straps overlaid which criss-crossed at the front and gave her a certain warrior finish. On top, a traditional jacket with an ornate green and pink embroidered patterns. A bright checked headscarf was tied around her head, covering the super-long hair that we saw her twist into a bun earlier. To finish, bright ribbons were tied just under her knees. I was obsessed with the detail and how the various patterns and colours were offset against the multi-green vista. Other women from the tribe could be found selling their goods. They make crafts and weave beautiful textiles and would sometimes spot trekking groups and try to sell souvenirs. Once you said no, they would generally leave you be, but would tail the group for a little longer, sometimes helping you down some of the trickier steps, without asking for anything in return. Mao would maintain her professionalism and largely ignore them. I pulled my phone out. 17,000 steps completed – so my health app tells me. We would certainly surpass 25,000 by dinner and I was looking forward to a home-cooked meal. I also needed some reprieve from the unyielding ‘Converse’ shoes that I’d bought at a market several days before. The day had passed rapidly; I had enjoyed getting to know Mao, and she asked us lots of questions about life in our respective countries too. She revealed she had a baby that was with her mother today but she would bring him tomorrow. She looked so young herself it was hard to imagine her with a son, but then she had been so nurturing and strong in leading us today, it actually made total sense. She happily obliged when we asked her to jump into our group selfies, it didn’t even occur to me that she would probably never see them on Instagram herself.