[Reading level: B2 – Upper Intermediate]
The dead in Vietnam aren’t satisfied with traditional offerings, like money. They want modern tech.
It’s 8pm in Hanoi’s labyrinthine Old Quarter and shop-owner Tran Thu Hien places her last $100 bill on the crackling street-side fire. I’ve watched her burn through thousands of dollars, but it’s still not enough. Hien, crouched over the blaze and dripping with sweat, has exhausted the cash. So she unpacks a box of personal items, pre-prepared for incineration: a gold Rolex, a pair of designer sunglasses, a pack of Cuban cigars and an iPhone X. Finally, Hien turns to a black Toyota Camry. The car is larger so getting the flames to catch is more of a challenge, but after a few careful manoeuvres, it’s ablaze. Smoke drifts into passing traffic, but aside from a few glances, passers-by pay little attention.
Hien, 38, isn’t an anarchist. Nor is she unhinged. She’s safeguarding the fortunes of her business and family. The day of my visit, August 15th, is the beginning of the Hungry Ghost Festival, an annual month-long event celebrated by Taoists and Buddhists across East Asia. It takes place during the seventh month of the lunar calendar – usually starting in August – and marks the opening of the gates of hell, when the dead roam free and cause trouble for the living.
Many Vietnamese people burn offerings to their ancestors throughout the year, but during the festival these ceremonies ramp up. They are also extended to appease other spirits: lost souls that have led sinful or greedy lives. Hien is one of many believers burning offerings for these spirits, which are only honoured during the festival. Fake money and cardboard replicas of modern-day luxuries are commonly thrown onto the fires, and are meant to waft into the afterlife, materialising as usable gifts for the dead.
“It’s just like people in the West at church,” Hien says, poking the fake cardboard car with a long stick. “People pray there because they believe that something bad will happen if they don’t. This is no different. Nobody wants bad luck.” Few Vietnamese know exactly where the tradition comes from, and academics disagree on its origins. But Hien is just one of thousands of believers who are conducting their own burning ceremonies across Hanoi’s Old Quarter.
Traditionally, roaming souls were satisfied with cremated fake money. But Vietnam’s dead are becoming increasingly demanding, so ceremonies are more elaborate than ever. “After people die, they need the same things in the afterlife that they had in this world,” explains Hien after the ceremony, wiping sweat from her brow with a damp cloth. “Much like the living, the recently deceased want iPhones and cars.”
An industry producing cardboard replicas has developed, helping to meet these new demands. In the week leading up to the festival, I visited Dao Tu, a village on the outskirts of Hanoi that produces and supplies Vietnam with these offerings. Tranquil rice paddies surround Dao Tu but its centre is bustling and frantic, as suppliers try to keep up with the surge in demand in the run-up to the festival. Washing machines, television screens, air-conditioning units and karaoke speakers – all cardboard replicas – lie in bundles on the side of the road ready to be delivered. Motorbikes weave through the village stacked with fake laptops, iPads and their respective chargers. I picked up one white cardboard cylinder and saw the logo for Viettel, one of Vietnam’s most popular internet providers. It was a fake wireless router to provide fake WiFi to a fake smartphone.
Screen addiction is not the only contemporary scourge affecting the afterlife. “The underworld is suffering from deforestation too, you know,” a balding artisan told me while constructing the bamboo frame for a fake forest. “It’s my job to fix that.” Once finished with the frame, he’ll pass it to a neighbouring artisan to cover with paper grass and trees before populating the fake forest with pictures of animals and waterfalls. Whoever buys and burns it will help new saplings grow in the underworld.
Back in the Hanoi Old Quarter, I meet 68-year-old Tran Quoc Viet, who’s conducting his own ceremony for his ancestors. It’s starting to rain, but this does little to temper the worshippers’ spirits. Viet pulls out and unpacks a box of fake gold and silver trinkets. “These are for my aunt,” he says, holding a cardboard tiara. “She wanted to be a famous singer. I burn these for her in the hope that they’ll help her on the other side.” According to some practitioners, the dead have not only material demands – but also unrealised dreams.
Viet ensures that the jewellery makes it to the intended ancestor by placing it on the family altar and praying before the burning ceremony. He finishes by preparing some fake black and purple tunics, traditional clothing worn by old people in Vietnam. He hands me one and I’m surprised by how real it feels, the only giveaway being its lightness. “These are for my grandparents who died long ago,” Viet explains as he throws them into the fire. “They lived very simple lives so clothes are all they really need. They wouldn’t even know what an iPhone was!”
Source: https://www.1843magazine.com/dispatches/vietnams-ghosts-are-hungry-for-iphones?fbclid=IwAR3aen1X2Zu4kiNPWwq8zKQg9XDHTcov5vffV8e5PQD0lcuwK8gFNTAr1oA
WORD BANK:
offering /ˈɒf.ər.ɪŋ/ (n): đồ cúng tiễn
labyrinthine /ˌlæb.əˈrɪn.θaɪn/ (adj): rối ren, phức tạp
crackling /ˈkræk.lɪŋ/ (adj): kêu răng rắc, nổ lốp đốp
crouch /kraʊtʃ/ (v): cúi
blaze /bleɪz/ (n): ngọn lửa
drip /drɪp/ (v): nhỏ thành giọt
incineration /ɪnˌsɪn.ərˈeɪ.ʃən/ (n): sự thiêu hủy
manoeuvre /məˈnuː.vər/ (n): sự vận động một cách thận trọng
anarchist /ˈæn.ə.kɪst/ (adj): vô chính phủ
unhinged /ʌnˈhɪndʒd/ (adj): có vấn đề về tâm thần
Taoist /ˈtaʊ.ɪst/ (n): đạo sĩ
Buddhists /ˈbʊd.ɪst/ (n): Phật tử
roam /rəʊm/ (v): đi lang thang
ramp up /ræmp/ (v): tăng lên
appease /əˈpiːz/ (v): xoa dịu
sinful /ˈsɪn.fəl/ (adj): tội lỗi
greedy /ˈɡriː.di/ [B2] (adj): tham lam
replica /ˈrep.lɪ.kə/ (n): bản sao
waft /wɒft/ (v): di chuyển nhẹ nhàng vào không khí
the afterlife /ˈɑːf.tə.laɪf/ (n): thế giới bên kia, kiếp sau
poke /pəʊk/ (v): chọc
cremate /krɪˈmeɪt/ (v): hỏa táng
elaborate /iˈlæb.ər.ət/ [C2] (adj): công phu
brow /braʊ/ (n): trán
deceased /dɪˈsiːst/ [C2] (adj): đã khuất
tranquil /ˈtræŋ.kwɪl/ [C1] (adj): yên bình
rice paddy /ˈraɪs ˌpæd.i/ (n): cánh đồng lúa
bustling /ˈbʌs.lɪŋ/ (adj): nhộn nhịp
frantic /ˈfræn.tɪk/ [C2] (adj): điên cuồng
surge /sɜːdʒ/ [C1] (n): sự gia tăng mạnh
the run-up to sth (n): thời gian sắp tới cái gì
bundle /ˈbʌn.dəl/ [C2] (n): bó
weave through sth /wiːv/ (v): len lỏi qua cái gì
stack /stæk/ (v): xếp chồng lên
cylinder /ˈsɪl.ɪn.dər/ (n): vật hình trụ
screen addiction (n): cơn nghiện thiết bị điện tử
contemporary /kənˈtem.pər.ər.i/ [B2] (adj): đương đại
scourge /skɜːdʒ/ (n): tai họa
artisan /ˈɑː.tɪ.zæn/ (n): nghệ nhân
sapling /ˈsæp.lɪŋ/ (n): cây non
temper /ˈtem.pər/ [B2] (v): làm giảm (tâm trạng)
trinket /ˈtrɪŋ.kɪt/ (n): nữ trang
tiara /tiˈɑː.rə/ (n): vương miện
unrealised dream (n): giấc mơ chưa thành hiện thực
intended /ɪnˈten.dɪd/ (adj): được dự định trước
altar /ˈɔːl.tər/ (n): bàn thờ
tunic /ˈtjuː.nɪk/ (n): áo dài
giveaway /ˈɡɪv.əˌweɪ/ (n): thứ cho người ta biết về một bí mật
ỦNG HỘ READ TO LEAD!
Chào bạn! Có thể bạn chưa biết, Read to Lead là một trang giáo dục phi lợi nhuận với mục đích góp phần phát triển cộng đồng người học tiếng Anh tại Việt Nam. Chúng tôi không yêu cầu người đọc phải trả bất kỳ chi phí nào để sử dụng các sản phẩm chất lượng của mình để mọi người đều có cơ hội học tập tốt hơn. Tuy nhiên, nếu bạn có thể, chúng tôi mong nhận được sự hỗ trợ tài chính từ bạn để duy trì hoạt động của trang và phát triển các sản phẩm mới.
Bạn có thể ủng hộ chúng tôi qua 1 trong 2 cách dưới đây.
– Cách 1: Chuyển tiền qua tài khoản Momo.
Số điện thoại 0947.886.865 (Chủ tài khoản: Nguyễn Tiến Trung)
Nội dung chuyển tiền: Ủng hộ Read to Lead
hoặc
– Cách 2: Chuyển tiền qua tài khoản ngân hàng.
Ngân hàng VIB chi nhánh Hải Phòng
Số tài khoản: 012704060048394 (Chủ tài khoản: Nguyễn Tiến Trung)
Nội dung chuyển tiền: Ủng hộ Read to Lead
