I recently revisited Ha Giang Province as part of a media contingent invited to see firsthand changes in the remote region.

The patriot

Much of the country's northernmost province offers dramatic scenery, dominated by peaks like Cong Troi (Heaven's Gate) on Ma Pi Leng Mountain with a sheer drop down to Nho Que River, which weaves its way like a white ribbon through the limestone ravines.

Before venturing to the more far-flung areas of Ha Giang we paid a visit to a Mong elder, Sung Dai Dung, who is now retired chairman of Ha Giang Province's Fatherland Front Committee.

At 74, Dung is still strong with a ruddy complexion, and in a booming voice he reflected on events in his life.

Back in 1945, 14-year-old Dung from Ma Le Commune in Dong Van District, volunteered to work as a messenger for a battalion of the liberation forces, three years later he was a fully fledged fighter in the People's Army.

After being defeated by the Chinese Liberation People's Army, remnants of Chiang Kai-shek's anti-communist troops had crossed over the border from China to Dong Van becoming ferocious bandits, looting villages and killing many locals.

Dung's unit was assigned the task of carrying out a risky and protracted operation in the most remote ravines to wipe these rogue troops out.

In 1951, the valiant young Mong fighter and enthusiastic activist was transferred to the army's propaganda unit in Ha Giang Province.

Dung explained back then the Mong ethnic community were around a third of Ha Giang's population.

Most lived on Dong Van plateau where living conditions were extremely harsh. There was barely any arable land on the rocky mountains. In order to grow corn they had to carry soil up from the valleys to fill hollows in the rocks, and after each harvest the soil was washed away by the rains, leaving the same toil ahead for the next crop.

Dung said despite these hardships, the local Mong were connected to each cliff and barren tract of land in this border area, likening his people to the ironwood trees that hold fast to the mountains.

In answer to my question on what he considered his biggest achievement, Dung put down his cup of tea and gazed thoughtfully out the window.

Hard times

Then he started talking about construction of the so-called "Road to Happiness" (Duong Hanh Phuc) from Ha Giang town to Dong Van between 1960 and '63.

It was an extremely difficult job because the road had to cut through high hills and deep ravines, boring through rocks and mountains at a time when road workers only had picks, shovels, crowbars and hard labour at their disposal.

After three years the road opened to traffic and when the first trucks carrying supplies of salt, kerosene, and rice trundled into Dong Van, crowds of locals greeted the convoy joyously. The men and women who had built the road embraced each other with laughter and weeping. Many tears were shed for the more than 30 colleagues killed building the mountain pass.

At this point of his story, old Dung's strong voice was muted with sadness: how could he convey all the sacrifices and hardships the young construction workers had to endure? Forty years had elapsed, but he still remembered the names and ages of the people who lost their lives building the road that bought happiness to the Dong Van highlanders?

Dung was insistent that today's young people should not forget the region's past; he pointed out it was this past that laid the foundations for the future.

In the past Dong Van and Meo Vac were notorious as a major source of Viet Nam's opium poppies. On average 25 tonnes of opium was produced each year, or 1kg of opium per head of the province's population. This illicit trade was gradually stopped as provincial officials replaced poppies firstly with pines, eucalyptus and acacias, then with fruit trees like betels, pears and plums, and then by cash crops like corn.

The Mong people had to promise the Government they would no longer cultivate poppies, and during our stay in Dong Van, we saw only pears, plums and corn growing in the valleys.

Mong market day

After leaving Sung Dai Dung, we headed to Meo Vac. As this was my first visit to this district town, I did not expect to find such a well-established urban sprawl, a crowded market, main streets bordered on either side by colourfully painted multi-storey houses similar to those in the lowlands.

It was Meo Vac's market day. Although it rained the market was crowded and people were animated. All kinds of locally grown fruits and vegetables were on display, pears and plums in particular. In one corner livestock, mostly cows and goats, were being sold.

At a bar, a group of Mong youngsters drank wine, and as time passed, the wine took its inevitable effect and the drinkers' faces reddened, their eyes sparkled and they played melodious tunes on khen (pan-flutes), which attracted charming Mong girls in brightly coloured blouses and beautiful skirts.

As the afternoon ebbed, couple by couple, swaying ever so gently straggled back to their homes.

Engineering a future

Giang Thi May, a young Mong engineer from the district's agriculture promotion centre, took us to where new varieties of corn and grass for cattle-breeding were being cultivated. When talking with the locals she looked like she could be related. The farmers walked with her through their fields and conversed in Mong about farming.

May was assigned to the centre after graduating from the College of Agriculture in Ha Noi.

At college she had specialised in management of agricultural economy, therefore knew little about farming techniques, which she had to learn on the job.

As a Mong, May said it was easy for her to communicate with locals. She was initially disappointed at not having the chance to put into practice the knowledge gained at college, but gradually found increasing fulfilment in her job.

May took us to her home, a typical Mong house in the traditional design: many pillars inside to hang items like khen; divided into many small private rooms; and, a roof made of Mong tiles.

Her mother is a cadre in the district women's organisation, one sister is training to be a teacher, and another sister attends the district's secondary school.

"We face many difficulties but must try our best to send our children to school. We want them to be better educated than us, this brings happiness to our family," said Thao Thi Chua, May's mother.

Our visit to May's family gave me confidence that the young Mong would successfully build on the achievements of their ancestors in their territory.

Like father, like son

Returning from Meo Vac back to Dong Van, we shared a car with the Deputy Secretary of Dong Van District's Party Committee, Sung Dai Hung.

Hung encouraged our group to make a detour via the Ma Pi Leng road so we could see for ourselves how difficult and hazardous it had been to build, it turned out he was the son of Sung Dai Dung. Both father and son worked to improve the lives of the Mong living in these rocky mountains.

Nguyen Van Giang, a cadre from Dong Van, accompanied our group to San Tung Commune, and told us he was originally a teacher in the lowlands, who arrived in Ha Giang in 1967 as a volunteer.

Blooming: Mong women in Ha Giang attend to their rose plantation. Changing crops from maize to roses have resulted in roses that are bigger, and considered more beautiful, than those grown in the lowlands. — VNA/VNS Photo Dinh Na

Giang recalled 36 years ago the 100km-trip from Ha Giang's capital to Dong Van took 16 hours, but thankfully this had improved. Gesturing at the road ahead of us, Giang said the inter-communal roads in Dong Van are much better than the roads of the past.

Newly built houses on either side of the roads belonged to Mong from the high altitude communes of Sung Tra and San Tung, and are the outcome of a 1997 Government policy of giving poor households a fresh start by providing a house, water tank and a cow. Back in the 1980s, 40 per cent of people in the province were hungry, now its less than 20 per cent.

With the availability of new seed varieties, corn yields on the region's rocky plateaus improve each year, livestock thrives, and over half its houses have electricity.

Sung Dai Dung's comment about Ha Giang sprang to my mind: "The Mong and other ethnic groups in Dong Van's highlands now enjoy a lifestyle that is a hundred-times more comfortable than in the past." — VNS