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Nguyen Hai
Amid misty mountain passes, the Zero-Dong Market returns, carrying warmth into the coldest corners of the border region.
As the year ends and cold winds sweep over the Truong Son range, carrying winter’s biting mist, a special journey begins. Vehicles laden with kindness climb the winding, precipitous roads to reach the most remote villages in Quang Tri. Amid pristine mountains, a remarkable market takes place, with no sellers, only givers and receivers: the “Zero-Dong Market.”
Over the past five years, this market has become an annual tradition, a warm imprint of volunteerism that I have been fortunate to join. Initiated by the Women’s Union of the Quang Binh Radio and Television Station (now the Quang Tri Newspaper and Radio–Television Station), it is more than a simple act of charity. The market is a gentle, respectful way of giving, rooted in a deeply humanistic belief: “Give people what they need, not merely what we have.”
Preparations for this market begin months before the Lunar New Year, or Tet. Benefactors register specific types and quantities of goods, and the Organizing Committee records their value and prints special shopping vouchers. Local authorities and border guards, who know each household and their circumstances, help to present the vouchers to those in need.
As the market day approaches, the entire village is abuzz. Tet’s festive atmosphere seems to arrive early as villagers join hands with border guards to erect rustic bamboo stalls. Notably, the locals also weave their own charming, eco-friendly bamboo backpacks (gui). These backpacks are not just containers but symbols of respect, demonstrating their thoughtful preparation as they look forward to receiving love and carrying happiness home.
While the city sleeps and dew still coats the ground, the convoy – brimming with love – begins to move. On the roads up to the Highlands, where every curve and hill bears deep historical scars, the group makes frequent stops at “red sites” such as Tam Co (Eight Women) Cave, Y Ta (Nurse’s) Cave, or the Volunteer Youth Monument. The journey of spreading love in the present always begins with deep gratitude for the past.
Having made our way over the steep mountain passes, we arrive at the village around 10 AM to find the market ground bustling. Volunteers, villagers, and soldiers hurriedly unload goods from the vehicles, carefully arranging each Tet gift in the pre-built bamboo stalls.
The village elder performs a simple yet solemn ritual to inform the heavens and earth, and the river and mountain spirits about the upcoming market and reunion. After this ritual, the celebrations begin. Joyful spring music rises, and the festival stage is handed over to vibrant competitions that are anything but ordinary. Participants’ hands fly as they work their pestles in a rice-pounding contest. A cassava-peeling contest reflects the rhythm of daily labor. Visitors, sponsors, and villagers cheer as one, all distance dissolving amidst the bright, ringing laughter.
And then comes the moment everyone has been waiting for. Holding their zero-dong vouchers – softened and creased from anticipation – the villagers “go to market.” There is no pushing, no frantic rush, only eyes lit with quiet joy as they choose the things they have long hoped for. I watched a young mother pause at the clothing stall, selecting a new shirt for her son to wear this Tet. I saw a sturdy father’s delight as he picked out a sharp set of farming tools to ready his fields after the holiday. Families beamed as they chose a pair of breeding animals, carrying home not just livestock but hopes for growth and good fortune.
It is not only those who receive who feel joy. The market also includes a special corner where villagers display mountain produce they have grown – fresh bamboo shoots, pickled leeks, wild vegetables – to exchange or sell. Visitors buy these as gifts, and that small sum becomes both extra income and a quiet source of pride for the locals.
I have walked through market sessions held in the rain, when the road into the village turned slick with mud. Children and elders arrived in the biting winter cold, yet their smiles stayed bright. I have also experienced market days bathed in sunshine, where the yellow of apricot blossoms and the pink of peach blossoms mingled with the vivid red of fluttering flags. But whatever the weather, the warm pulse of kindness has never changed.
Watching the rustic bamboo backpacks, filled to the brim with happiness, accompany the villagers home, I understood that the “Zero-Dong Market” provides much more than material support. It brings a fuller Tet and rekindles the flame of compassion and sharing, warming an entire highland region as the Lunar New Year draws near. This is a market where the greatest value cannot be counted in money, but in smiles.
