Ong O and the Potato Vines

Out on the dusty, sunlit road from Hue to the south, a man stopped at the gate of a house. He asked for a ladle of water, but did not drink it. Instead he poured it, drop by careful drop, over a bundle of sweet potato vines.

The owner of the house stood inside the gate and watched for a long time. He could not see why a traveler from so far away kept those vines like a treasure.

The traveler was Ông Ó. He is a character in the folk tales of southern Vietnam, not a figure of verified history. The old tellings place him in xóm Dưa, a hamlet in the Bến Tre area. They set his life in the time of Emperor Minh Mạng. The land there had once been a forest of coral trees, cleared by the people who settled it. Melons, mustard greens, bottle gourds, squash and bitter melon slowly turned the new ground green. In time the place took the name xóm Dưa, the Melon Hamlet.

Like the others, Ông Ó was a plain vegetable grower. He had once made his living trapping birds, so the children of the hamlet called him Ông Ó. But it was not his old trade that carried the name far. It was his gift for telling stories.

As the old people tell it, he was good-humored and had a real knack for a tale. He spoke with a straight face, and the stranger the story, the more he told it as if it were true. People in the area knew his ways, so they chatted happily and never took offense. One quick twist in what he said, and his listeners would burst out laughing.

Once, an official heard of Ông Ó and sent for him. The official ordered him to tell a lie. Ông Ó answered that to lie well, he needed his Book. Sadly, he had left the Book at home, so he asked leave to go and fetch it.

The official agreed. Ông Ó went home, and there he stayed for quite a while. After a long wait with no sign of him, the official sent someone to call him back.

"Where is your Book?"

Ông Ó answered calmly.

"Sir, the Book at home was the very lie you asked to hear."

Word of Ông Ó traveled the roads, far beyond the Melon Hamlet. Once he was summoned all the way to Hue. The crown prince was sitting on the back of an elephant. He had heard of the man and wanted to test him.

"Tell me a lie."

Ông Ó looked up and replied.

"Your Highness is up there, halfway between heaven and earth. I could never tell a lie with you up there."

The crown prince was set on hearing it, so he climbed down from the elephant.

"Now I am standing on the ground. Go on."

At once Ông Ó answered.

"I have already told it. I just got you down off your elephant."

Leaving Hue, Ông Ó set off for the south. Along the way he came across an unusual kind of sweet potato and took a bundle of its vines with him. The road ahead was long, so he worked out how those vines could earn him food and money for the trip.

At a house by the road, he asked for water. When it came, he did not drink. He slowly poured it over the vines. The owner thought this strange. He looked at the bundle for a while, then asked.

"What kind of vine is so precious?"

Ông Ó raised the bundle. These vines came from the royal garden, he said. This kind did not creep along the ground. It climbed a trellis like a gourd, and its tubers hung down from above. Once it took root, there would be sweet potatoes to eat all year round.

At the words "royal garden", the owner asked to buy some. Ông Ó sold him one or two vines, took the money and went on his way.

Farther on, the bundle was a little shorter, but he still carried it with care. Again he stopped at a house and asked for water. Again, as soon as it was brought out, he gave it to the vines. The people of the house were curious too.

"What is so special about those vines?"

The tale of the royal garden was told once more. The same sweet potato that climbed a trellis like a gourd. The same tubers hanging down, more than anyone could eat in a year. The listeners looked more closely at the vine tips, then asked to buy one or two.

At the third stop, the same rhythm came around again. He asked for a ladle of water. The vines were watered with care. Someone in the house asked about them, and the story of the royal garden began. One vine was bought, then two.

So it went, each buyer taking only a few. The bundle grew shorter at every house, while the small coins in his hand added up to money for the road. He could keep on heading south.

The vines were still just sweet potato vines. Every buyer had asked first and heard the story before offering to buy. The joke is on the grown-ups who believed in a hurry, the moment they heard the words "royal garden".

By the time the bundle had thinned out, Ông Ó had enough money for the road back to Bến Tre. The dusty road led him home to the Melon Hamlet, among rows of melons, mustard greens, bottle gourds, squash and bitter melon. Now it is clear why the bundle on his shoulder kept getting shorter after every gate.

The wind brushed through the coconut palms. The thinned bundle of vines swayed gently with each step Ông Ó took along the dirt road home to xóm Dưa.