ninh binh, vietnam. feb. 24, 2023.
i stumbled into a wooden sampan boat, struggling to keep my balance, desperately clutching onto a local’s outstretched hand for support. after getting seated, the local gave me a toothy grin and offered his name. he began to row, not with his hands, but his feet. the oars gently glided us through the meandering river.
row. row. row.
i was mesmerized. i couldn’t peel my eyes away from the calm water, tall sloping mountains and clear blue skies. locals rowing other awestruck tourists spoke to each other in their native tongue, laughing and waving. the occasional pearl-white stork peeked its head above the long swaying grass, suddenly taking flight. a floating market pushed out of an unsuspecting cave with a woman asking if we wanted dragonfruit. the smell of cow dung and salt water mixed in the air, wafting towards my nose. our boat, however, continued to row through the glimmering waters.
row. row. row.
a soft drizzle began to dot my face, quickly turning into a heavy patter that soaked my bright orange life jacket. as the sky grew dark with clouds, i couldn’t help but wonder how much longer this slice of beauty would remain preserved. how much longer it would remain unmarred by violence, rapacity and pollution. where will our senseless descent into using mother earth and her resources leave this river, this ecosystem, these people, this world? the rain mingled with my tears, enveloping my body in a cold caress. the gentle lull of the rowing paddles left me dizzy.
row. row. row.
yes, i thought, yes. this visceral moment has solidified my passion — bringing people from all walks of life and experiences to drive collective change, promote sustainability and preserve our home. i want to learn and grow alongside our current and future generations as we strive for the same goal. my thoughts were interrupted by the splash of the oar in the water. i wonder how much longer he will continue to row.
row. row. row.
i felt uneasy, clinging onto my lifejacket like a lifeline. a shiver worked its way down my spine. how much longer can we keep rowing in our race to finish first, make the most, be the best before our greed swallows us whole? but we kept rowing.
row. row. ro-
- Row. Row. Row. - January 12, 2024
