Chapter 11 — The Bookmobile Through the Mountains

The official dispatch came on a Monday morning, when Nghi had just returned from a trip to Seo Lu, still covered in road dust. Mrs. Dung greeted her at the door, holding an opened envelope, her face unusually tense.

"Look at this," Mrs. Dung handed the envelope to her daughter, her voice trembling.

Nghi quickly washed his hands, picked up the paper inside, his eyes quickly scanned the formal printed words with the title "People's Committee of Van Thac district - Announcement on reviewing and evaluating the effectiveness of cultural and educational programs in remote areas". The more she read, the more her hands shook, not because of the cold but because of a cold feeling spreading from her chest to her whole body.

The content of the official dispatch, although expressed in dry and roundabout administrative language, has a very clear core: the district's Culture - Sports - Tourism Department proposes to temporarily suspend the annual budget support for the "Anh Duong Mobile Library" program from the next quarter, to conduct an overall review of operational efficiency, and at the same time prioritize resources to pilot the "Community Digital Library Project" in a number of key communes in the district. The dispatch requested program representatives to be present at a preliminary review meeting at the end of the month, to "present an activity report and suggest direction".

"They really plan to cut the budget," Nghi dropped the paper on the table, his voice choked. Even though I was mentally prepared from what I heard at the District Committee headquarters last week, when faced with the official document, the feeling was still completely different — like a real punch straight to the chest, instead of just a vague worry.

Mrs. Dung sat down next to her daughter, put her hand on her shoulder, was silent for a moment before speaking, her voice trying to stay calm even though her eyes could not hide her worry. "What percentage of your total operating expenses does that support account for, Nghi?"

"Not much, about thirty percent of the annual cost of gasoline and car maintenance," Nghi replied, trying to quickly calculate in his head even though his mind was still confused. "But the problem is not just that number, mother. If the district officially withdraws its recognition and no longer considers the program a part of the local cultural and educational system, we will lose many other things - the right to travel on inter-commune roads without annoying document checks, the cooperation of schools and villages, and even the reputation to ask for book donations from publishers. Thirty percent of the budget is just the tip of the iceberg."

Mrs. Dung sighed, her face briefly showing the fatigue of age combined with the burden of worry. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I have to go to meetings, present reports, try to convince them to keep the program," Nghi said, her voice gradually regaining its toughness. "But you need to prepare carefully, you can't just talk. You need specific data, you need to prove that this program is really useful, it cannot be replaced by those digital kiosks."

She immediately called Nam and told him the news. On the other end of the line, Nam was silent for a long time after listening to the entire content of the dispatch, then spoke, his voice lowered but still maintaining the necessary calmness. "This is the worst thing I feared, but at least now everything is clear, it's no longer a rumor. I have time until the end of the month to prepare, not much but not enough either."

"I don't know where to start," Nghi admitted, her voice a bit panicked. "I've never had to deal with something like this, never had to present before such an important administrative meeting."

"We'll prepare together," Nam said, his voice determined. "I will ask the principal and the Department of Education if there is any support possible. You can write a letter confirming the effectiveness of the program on the learning of students in Nam Cay. You should contact the village heads and families who have been involved with the bookmobile for many years, asking them for testimonials, as specific as possible."

In the days that followed, Nghi threw himself into preparation work with an unprecedented intensity. She spent her evenings sitting at her father's desk, going through all the books and reports of the program's activities over the years, trying to compile them into specific numbers — the total number of books borrowed each year, the number of students who improved their academic performance thanks to access to books, the number of children from disadvantaged families who had the opportunity to read books for free that, without the program, they would not have had access to at all.

She also took the time to visit each village, not to hand out books as usual, but to chat, ask permission to record or record honest sharing from people about the meaning of the program to their lives. Mrs. Sung in Seo Lu told about how Dinh, thanks to reading books, learned to read and write much more fluently than his brothers and sisters who did not have the opportunity to access books early. Mrs. Ban Thi Nai, although still cautious, also admitted that little Kía has become much braver these days, knowing how to read a few simple sentences, something she never thought of before.

"Just write it down. If I can help the program in any way, I'm willing," Ms. Nai said, her voice had completely lost its initial coldness, and was even a little genuinely worried when she heard the news that the program was in danger of being cut. "Now that there are no bookmobiles, where can my daughter find books to read? There are no bookstores in this village."

Nghi carefully recorded every word, clearly feeling the change in this once skeptical mother's attitude - a vivid testament to how the program has gradually changed the perception of an entire community, not only by bringing books, but also by planting seeds of belief in the value of words.

On the last evening before entering the week of sprint preparations for the meeting, Nghi sat alone, looking at the pile of documents, data, and pages recording people's stories stacked high on the table, feeling both tired and determined. She knew that this was not just a simple administrative meeting, but a real battle to protect her father's legacy, and she had no intention of backing down, even though the opponent in front of her was a bureaucratic system with numbers and flashy reports on "technological investment effectiveness" that she knew clearly did not reflect the harsh reality of the villages without electricity or waves in the middle of the Van Thac mountains and forests.

Nghi also took the opportunity to stop by Mr. Bon Senh's car repair workshop, asking him to write a few lines confirming the condition of the bookmobile over the years, about the times he had to spend his own effort, sometimes even his own money, to help maintain the only vehicle that could penetrate the most remote villages in the district. Uncle Bon sat meticulously writing each word on a piece of student paper, in scribbled but sincere handwriting, recounting every time the car broke down in the middle of the road, every time people in the village had to push the car through a muddy road, as a living testament to the bond between the program and the community.

"Just show this to the guys in the district," Uncle Bon said, handing the paper to Nghi, his voice a bit annoyed, rarely seen in this normally calm man. "I've followed this car since the first day, witnessed so many things, and know how important it is to people. The guys sitting at desks in the district have probably never set foot in Seo Lu or Nam Cay during the rainy season, so they came up with the idea of replacing the book cart with those tablets without electricity or signal."

Nghi also took the time to draft a detailed report, clearly presenting each item - the number of kilometers of book trails traveled each year, the number of books circulated, the list of families and children who have been with the program for a long time, accompanied by photos capturing the moments when the children were passionately reading books in the trunk of the car, and the bright smiles that no dry statistics could fully describe. She carefully printed and bound documents into neat folders, preparing them for the upcoming meeting, even though there was still a lot of insecurity in her heart about what lay ahead.

One evening, while reviewing the documents one last time, Nghi received a call from Nam. His voice rang out with excitement over the phone. "The principal of your school has agreed to write an official document confirming the effectiveness of the program, and also asked for the signature of the district Department of Education. Ms. Ngan is also preparing a separate report, detailing how the new reading corner in the classroom has helped students improve their reading comprehension skills significantly in just a few weeks."

"Really? That's great," Nghi breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like a part of the burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "I was afraid that I would have to face the whole system alone, but now that I have more support like that, I feel much more confident."

"You're not alone," Nam said, his voice firm. "The whole Nam Cay school, all four villages on my route, are standing behind me. It's just that the people sitting in the district haven't seen it yet. It's our duty to show them."

The call ended, Nghi looked out the window, where darkness had covered the whole town, with only a few flickering lights left from the surrounding houses. She felt a new flow of strength creeping into her heart, not blind confidence, but trust built from the consensus of many people - those who have been, are, and will continue to stand by her side on the journey ahead, no matter what the final result.