“Each year begins with Spring.” Uncle Ho had written three letters — to the people, the fighters, the youth and children — on the occasion of the spring of the year Binh Tuat. This spring, moreover, was the first of the springs of independence and freedom for the country. In Uncle Ho’s views, this Tet should be one in the style of the New Life, in which joy was the lot of all, rich and poor, old and young, and the warmest thoughts were for the fighters at the front.
On the eve of Tet in Hanoi, the doors along both sides of the streets were closed, as was the rule during the last night of the year. Life was still difficult on the material side, but the atmosphere of a Tet in independence was present in each house. Rich or poor, they were decorated with an altar of the Fatherland, the national flag, President Ho’s portrait, lanterns and flowers. No one had to worry about offering presents to the “mandarins” — the officials — as the city people had had to under the French. After the ritual offering to the ancestors, the conversation in each family turned to the topics of the day, politics, the grand meeting to be held next day, the fighting in the South. A few days earlier, the self-defence headquarters had sent round Tet letters reminding people to reserve their thoughts for the fighters who were laying down their lives for the country at the front and urging them to spent Tet in a merry but economical way, saving money for the Committee of Support for the Resistance in Nam Bo.
The Chairman of the City Administrative Committee had just finished dinner at home when Uncle Ho arrived unexpectedly. He wanted to visit the people of the capital on the occasion of the New Year.
There was a fine drizzle. The streets were deserted, filled with the smell of fire-cracker powder. The flags were bright red in the street lights.
Comrade Hung took Uncle to a family in Cua Nam Street. The head of the family was the commander of a self-defence company and all the members of the household were active in patriotic organizations.
Then Uncle Ho wished to visit some labouring people’s quarters. He said he would like to see a very poor family. Well, there were still a lot of poor people in the city, but which family should he visit?
Uncle Ho had his car stopped in front of a narrow alley in Sinh Tu Street: Hang Dua Alley. Those small streets and alleys were the other face of the city, for which the colonialists never thought of doing anything during the past hundred years, not even thinking of installing a water tap or a street light.
The night was dark. The road was uneven and muddy because of the rain. The flags flown in front of low roofs touched the heads of passers-by. Uncle Ho went farther into the alley. A door was left ajar, through which a kerosene lamp could be seen. He stopped, then entered.
The house was rather crowded. It was shared by several families. On the middle wall, there was the national flag, Uncle Ho’s portrait and paper festoons. People were chatting. The conversation stopped when they saw an old man with a walking stick wearing a high-collared khaki jacket step in.
At first they looked at each other, thinking that he was a visitor for one of them. Uncle Ho asked them about preparation for Tet. They answered him merrily, showing the bolling pot of “banh chung” rice cakes in a corner of the yard. There was a gleam of joy in Uncle Ho’s eyes. He said a few words of greeting. Then everyone present suddenly realized that the gentle old man visiting them was President Ho himself. It was like a beautiful dream: he had stepped out of the portrait hung on the wall to be among them, in their humble house. Now, unlike the moment when he first came in, no one could speak a word. All eyes 1ooked up at him. He said, “Our country has just won independence. The South is fighting the enemy. Our labouring people still experience hard times. But with independence, we’ll have everything.”
He went out leaving every one in the house dumb with emotion. They all went to the door and looked after him.
That night, Uncle Ho visited quite a number of places. In the first spring of independence, he wanted to bring joy to many families in the city. When he arrived at a poor government employee’s in Hang Long Street, it was quite late. They were about to go to bed. Mosquito nets had been put up. The wire string across the room was full of clothes. No one in the family was expecting a visit at that hour, let alone one from the President of the Republic.
Thus Uncle Ho’s round of New Year’s Eve visits was completed. The next day, New Year’s Day, he would be very busy. He would receive callers from the Party Central Committee, the Government and representatives of various organizations. He would attend the New Year rally of the city population at the Municipal Theatre. He would visit and talk to a unit of National Defence guards, spend some time with the children at the Pioneers’ Garden, and have dinner with his guards in Bac Bo Palace...
After seeing the President back, Comrade Hung, the Chairman of the City Committee returned home. As midnight was approaching, he went to Lake Hoan Kiem (Lake of the Restored Sword) to see the New Year in. The streets, which had been deserted at dusk, were very busy now. Everyone wanted to breathe the pure air of the first spring of independence. There had never been such an excited and merry New Year’s Eve.
Fire-crackers were set off everywhere in the city to greet the coming of spring. Comrade Hung followed the stream of people to the gate of Ngoc Son Temple. As he was entering it, he caught sight of an old man in a long robe, a woollen scarf worn round his face, among the busy crowd crossing The Huc Bridge. The old man’s bright eyes helped him to recognize the President at once. Uncle Ho walked slowly among those who were making their way into the shrine. The Committee Chairman also noticed another man standing nearby, who winked at him. That was the President’s bodyguard. Uncle Ho did not want people to recognize him.
So, Uncle Ho had seen how spring came to a family of revolutionary activists. He also saw how it came to the house of a labouring man, and to the family of a poor Government employee. Now, he wanted to know how the spring of independence was coming to the people in the streets, in this temple so familiar to the Hanoi people, in the middle of Lake Hoan Kiem. One wonders if the people at Ngoc Son temple noticed that the young twigs they were picking that night according to the old custom were sprouting beautifully?
All this was told me later when I was back in Hanoi by those who had accompanied Uncle Ho that New Year’s Eve. Those visits became a habit with him on many subsequent New Year’s Eves. Those he visited were usually people who had served the revolution well, who had children in the armed services, or labouring people in hard conditions. His visits were always unannounced. He wished to bring those families some unexpected happiness. He also wanted to see the real atmosphere in those houses on festive days. These things became habits in his simple and great life.