Three - Coffee and Me

A few rays of early morning sunlight managed to penetrate through the leaves, creating sparkling silver spots on the lid of the coffee filter... Black drops of coffee began to fall, fall, little by little, carrying with them the stories of the old days about my family, about my father...

50 years ago, when I was 10, my whole family moved from Saigon to Di An at noon on April 30. My father said: "Peace is here, let's all go back to our hometown...!".

Set up a thatched-roof coffee shop right at the corner of Truong Tre Street, in front of my alley. There were few visitors, mostly aunts, uncles, relatives and brothers and sisters in the "incense village" who called out to each other every morning: "Come in for a cup of coffee and then go to work, folks!"...

... Working in the fields, at 4 or 5 in the morning the shop was already bustling with laughter. I often woke up early to help my parents make coffee to sell... Actually, I helped wash the cups and the racket, but at that time I didn't know how to make coffee. But I remember, at that time the shop only sold "stored" coffee, so it only needed to be "made" very quickly. Later I understood that the drinkers also needed to be quick to go to the fields early. Those who weren't in a hurry could sit and linger for a few more cups of tea to warm their stomachs...

“Khò” coffee is also known as “cà phê nước”, a unique brewing method, bearing the mark of Saigon and the old Southern region. The name “kho” probably comes from the way of cooking and brewing, when the coffee is stirred and soaked in an aluminum pot or a clay pot, to keep the coffee hot over a low heat. Just like braising fish, simmering over a low heat to let it soak...

“Kho” coffee often has a slightly bitter taste, but it is also very unique and my generation and the past still love it because of its rustic, simple nature.

I don't know when I started "drinking" coffee and I don't remember when I got into the habit of sitting with a cup of coffee every morning... Maybe from the thatched hut in my house back then!

***

I remember...!

In the past, Di An market had several huge tamarind trees at the end of the market. There were several square cement floors under the tamarind trees that looked very clean. At night, they sold sweet soup, in the morning they sold cakes, sticky rice, and they were places to sell "toad" coffee - a Southern term used to refer to a type of popular coffee shop for workers, often borrowing corners of the market, street corners, or sidewalks to sell. Customers squatted on low, small wooden or plastic chairs. Perhaps that way of sitting evoked the image of a toad to call after it, or it could also mean not sitting still, moving chairs to make room when there were customers...

The day I started my apprenticeship, every morning at the beginning of the week my father took me to this tamarind tree to eat sticky rice and drink a cup of coffee. From here, the bus station was also nearby. Back then, from Di An to the school where I studied in District 5, Saigon, I had to take several buses. From Di An bus station to Thu Duc. Then from Thu Duc bus station to the bus station to wait for the trip to Saigon.

Back to the coffee. I remember that day...

Dad asked me, would you like some filter coffee today? Then he called me.

Phin coffee is a way of talking about the way of drinking coffee from a brewing tool of Western origin. The word “phin” is a Vietnamese adaptation of the French word “filtre”, which means “filter”. The coffee filter consists of three main parts: the lid, the body containing the coffee powder and the filter base placed on the cup for the coffee to drip. It looks like a hot pot, so many people later jokingly say “the pot sitting on the cup”.

When the French brought coffee to Vietnam, the people of the South also got used to this way of drinking - a slow and relaxed way of drinking, somewhat different from the previously mentioned way of drinking dry coffee.

The first time, I saw the drip filter and I didn't know when I could drink it! Then when my dad said "OK"! I fumbled and fumbled to put the whole filter down, spilling coffee all over the table... My dad laughed and showed me how. As for me, every time I hold the filter, I laugh to myself, remembering the old story...

***

Three...!

Near Tet, my father set up a ladder to pick the apricot leaves. The apricot tree that my second brother had planted, cared for, and grafted for decades - since the liberation day when the family had just moved in.

The youngest son and his brothers kept telling him, but he “didn’t listen”! That’s how old people are. They often fumble around doing this and that alone… The ladder fell, and he hit his head on the ground… Luckily, we were saved in time. In the hospital, he gradually got better. I asked him: “Do you crave coffee? The doctor has given you some now!”. He nodded slightly. I went down the elevator to buy him a cup of ready-made coffee. I watched him try his best to suck on the coffee in the bag. I knew this coffee was “not as good” as the coffee at the small shop near the neighborhood where he often sat with his old friends… The bitterness of the coffee he was drinking at that time would be even more “bitter” if he knew that Mr. Bay had passed away! (my grandfather’s younger brother)… At that time, we told each other to keep it a secret from him.

The sun rose high, casting shimmering beams of light in the cup of hot coffee. Looking at the long streaks of sunlight through the gaps between the leaves, I sipped my coffee and tasted the salty, bitter taste.

***

Three...!

Hearing Mom's soft call, I quickly went to the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee. My illness was getting worse, and she was still craving coffee. Even though Dad only gave her a few spoonfuls of coffee, that was all.

Dad said: "The day Mom fell, Dad went down to the kitchen to make coffee. He told her to lie there, but he just turned away for a moment..." Dad's voice choked up, I understood.

The day my mother died.

At night, the youngest child made a cup of coffee for mom and put it on the altar table. Another cup was given to dad. Dad sat alone with the cup of coffee and looked at mom's picture.

I, look silently!...

***

I get it.

The image of a father in life is always a symbol of strength but also of silent sacrifice.

I know.

Since I was a small child, my father was willing to put his life on his shoulders, taking on great responsibilities to raise me to be a good person.

My father is like a big tree, silently protecting me from the sun and rain, no matter how many storms my life has had.

Time passes by like the last drop of coffee.

Mom passed away, and dad grew older and weaker. Although he had several children by his side day and night, I knew he felt the absence and loneliness.

I see that my father talks and smiles less than before. In the morning and at noon, he makes coffee and sits in a corner of the house to drink it. Perhaps every time he sips coffee, he sees my mother enjoying it somewhere - in a faraway place.

I feel the old coffee flavor of my mother and father still lingering in the air, spreading, fragrant and warm next to my sipping cup of coffee.

Each drop of coffee flows down, like each drop of time slowly filling the soul, evoking memories and emotions that have not been touched for a long time.

And you?

Do you agree with me that fatherhood is not only a gift we receive, but also a fire for us to live a meaningful life. Keep it, live it and pass it on.

Binh Phuoc Night, April 16, 2025

Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Radio - Television and Binh Phuoc Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values ​​of sacred and noble fatherly love.
Please send to BPTV your touching stories about Father by writing articles, writing feelings, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with recordings),... via email chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretary Office, Binh Phuoc Radio - Television and Newspaper, No. 228, Tran Hung Dao, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The time to receive articles is from now until August 30, 2025.
Quality articles will be published, paid royalties, and rewarded at the end of the topic with 1 special prize and 10 excellent prizes.
Let's continue writing the story about Father with "Hello Love" season 4, so that stories about Father can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/171815/ba-ca-phe-va-toi