After just a few minutes in the centre of Sa Pa looking for a lunch place, I had already promised a few ladies, from ethnic groups characteristic of the region, to buy souvenirs or arrange a trekking tour specifically from them and only them, “once I make up my mind”, I excused myself with a smile, feeling slightly overwhelmed at their persistence, realizing I was simply too nice to shut down their attempts bluntly. This would be a recurring situation on the days to come and I doubt any foreigner who has set foot in Sa Pa didn’t experience the same.
An encounter with one of these women, whose main source of income is trekking with tourists along the rice fields, became the most memorable part of my stay. When I think of Sa Pa I remember her first, not the mountain range enveloping the town, home to the highest peak of Vietnam, or the cosy foodie places (sometimes in a family’s living room), although these are worth a mention.
Her name is Ninh and she is 21 years old. I was the only person who booked a tour with her that day. The weather was merciful on us – sunny with no signs of rain, and not too hot to make the walk uncomfortably sweaty. After some questions about her ethnic group, the Black Hmong, she openly shared details about her life.
Ninh grew up in a very poor family and had an arranged marriage, welcomed in the hope it would benefit the living conditions of both families as not one but two rice fields would feed the numerous bunch. Many fields don’t produce enough to turn into a business, remaining the family’s main source of food, not income.
Sadly, her now husband wasn’t that well off either and they struggle to make a living. One could say misery loves company. Regardless, she considers herself lucky, married to someone who supports her a lot, covering Ninh’s work shifts at a guesthouse and looking after their 2 kids whenever she has tours.
When asked about motherhood, Ninh confessed she doesn’t want more kids and is very happy now that her employer took her to the doctor so she could learn how to prevent an unwanted pregnancy; most people in rural areas don’t have access to family planning, which explained the several kids (and overall young population) of the villages I visited, and the lack of (or inexistent) local and regional health centres.
By this point, I was feeling uneasy. Ninh wasn’t sharing her life of struggles to feed the family (totalling 6, as she lives with the husband’s parents under a very small and precarious space they call home) for pity or a generous tip at the end of our day together. She spoke with ease, acquiescence, a sense of normality, and confidence when imagining a bright future for her kids.
Theoretically we know there’s indeed people living similar or even more vulnerable situations, as if their countries missed the train of development or refused boarding altogether. But spending time with someone like her, with a resigned awareness matters could be different yet many aspirations, puts a face to that reality, making it unavoidable to truly empathise. There and then it hit me how the experience of being a woman, or a man, can be so very different depending on where one is born in the world.
We were close to the end of the trekking, and I asked if I could visit her village. She pointed out to a meandering trail, steep and poorly maintained, adding she lived on the other side of the mountain, unreachable by motorbike. She couldn’t yet afford a terrain in the valley we found ourselves in, connected to the main road, and the walk there took around 1 hour (one way), sometimes longer under the rain or when carrying a bag of rice…
We finally reached the guesthouse she works at, and I got to meet the husband and the kids, who were taking a nap under a mosquito net, lulled by the loud sound of a fan.
I left to town knowing Ninh was among the strongest women I have ever met and couldn’t help but to think that if she could do it, nearly everyone is in the position to make parenthood and partnerships work. I hope one day she does get to own the guesthouse of her dreams and send her children to school, not the 3-hour away school she could only walk to twice every week as a kid.
