Chapter 6 — The Bookmobile Through the Mountains

It took nearly three weeks, after many inquiries with the district Education Department and uncle Bon Senh, for Nghi to determine the way to Nam Cay School. It is not a road in the true sense, but a path through the forest, most of the time only wide enough for motorbikes or pedestrians, with only a short section near the end that is temporarily widened enough for small trucks thanks to the efforts of people in the village to self-clear many years ago to transport school construction materials.

Nghi had to drive along a circular route that was much longer than the previous three stops, through a steep slope that Uncle Bon Senh had warned in advance that "you should only go in the dry season, when it rains the road will be considered broken". Fortunately, today the sky was clear and sunny, so even though the car bounced continuously on jagged rocks, Nghi still carefully brought the car close to the school area after nearly three hours of struggling.

When the school's fibro-cement roofs appeared behind the trees, Nghi felt a mixture of relief and nervousness. This was the first time she set foot in this place, the land her father had marked on the map but had never visited. The school has only two small four-level houses, the whitewashed walls are peeling and patchy, the school yard is a flat area of clay, with an old phoenix tree casting shade in the corner of the yard.

Nghi stopped the car right at the school gate, a simple gate consisting of only two wooden pillars and a horizontal bar. He got down and looked around to find someone to ask. At that moment, a school drum rang out, signaling recess, and immediately after that, from the two classrooms, children rushed into the yard, laughter and chatter filled the otherwise quiet corner of the forest.

"Hello, who are you looking for?" A deep male voice rang out from behind. Nghi turned around and saw a man in his thirties, tall and thin, with tanned skin typical of someone who has lived in the highlands for a long time, wearing a shirt with a worn collar, and holding a stack of unfinished student notebooks in his hand.

"Hello, I'm Nghi, the mobile librarian of the book truck program. I heard that my school was lacking books so today I took the risk to find my way up here," Nghi replied, looking towards the truck behind as an explanation.

The man raised his eyebrows, his eyes were a bit surprised then turned questioning, not necessarily unsympathetic but also not as hasty as the people in other villages. "Book cart? I'm Ly Hoai Nam, the homeroom teacher here. It must be very difficult for you to go this way. Almost no one can go here by car."

"Yes, it's a bit difficult," Nghi smiled wryly, "but I heard that our school has a serious shortage of books, so I thought that no matter how difficult it is, I have to try."

Nam was silent for a moment, his eyes glanced over the old truck, then looked back at Nghi. There was something in those eyes that made Nghi feel a bit uncomfortable, as if he was being judged. "What are you going to do? Just stop by once, or are you planning on making this a regular stop?"

The question was so straightforward that it was a bit rude, making Nghi pause a bit. "I plan to put Nam Cay on a fixed route, if conditions allow. Why do you ask?"

Nam sighed, put the stack of notebooks down on a wooden table on the classroom porch, his voice sounded a bit tired and bitter. "Because I've seen many charity groups, many programs that promise all kinds of things, come here to take a few photos, give away a few boxes of gifts, then disappear and never come back. The children here are very used to being promised and then abandoned, Ms. Nghi. So if you only plan to visit once to build a movement, I'd rather you not visit at all, so that the children don't have to hope and then be disappointed."

Nam's words were like a bucket of cold water pouring straight into Nghi's initial enthusiasm, but at the same time, it also made her understand somewhat the reserve in his eyes. She took a breath, trying to keep her voice calm. "Mr. Nam, my bookmobile program has been maintained for sixteen years in three other villages in the district, not just once. The founder of the program is my father, he passed away more than a year ago, and I took over to maintain it, not to create a movement. I came here today not just to take photos, but to find out what my school really needs, and then next time I will come back with exactly what the children need."

Nam looked at her for a long time, his searching eyes gradually softened, perhaps because he realized the seriousness in Nghi's voice. "Sorry, I'm a bit too harsh. Having been here for a long time, I've witnessed many things that have made me suspicious. If you're really serious, I welcome it. The children here lack books, so much so that many of them have to study the same textbook for a group of four or five."

"So let me show you what I brought with me today," Nghi said, walking to the back of the car and opening the trunk door.

Nam followed, and when the trunk door opened, revealing the neatly stacked bookshelves inside, Nghi saw a slight surprise in his eyes, unable to hide his curiosity. The children in the school yard, who were playing, also began to pay attention to the strange car, timidly approaching it, standing behind each other looking inside with eyes that were both excited and shy.

"You guys just come closer and take a look, it's okay," Nghi smiled and waved. After a moment of hesitation, the oldest boy in the group, skinny but seemingly mature beyond his years, boldly stepped forward, looking at the row of books with undisguised curiosity.

"This is Lo Van Pao, my oldest student," Nam introduced, his voice much less tense than at first. "Pao is the best student in school, but his family is very poor and has to help the family with many things."

Pao said nothing, just stared intently at an advanced math textbook for middle school students, his eyes clearly showing hunger. Nghi immediately recognized it and took the book and gave it to the boy. "You take it and read it, I'll lend it to you if you like."

Pao hesitantly picked up the book, turned a few pages, then looked up at Nghi with eyes as if he couldn't believe it. "I... can I really borrow it?"

"Okay. Next time I come up, you can give it back, or if you like, you can leave it to me completely," Nghi replied, warmly.

Nam stood next to him, observing everything, not saying anything more, but Nghi could feel his attitude had clearly changed, from cautious and suspicious to a genuine concern. That afternoon, Nghi stayed at the school longer than planned, distributing books to each group of students by age, chatting with the teachers in the school about what they needed most, and carefully taking notes in a notebook as a plan for future trips.

When the sun began to set, signaling that it was time for Nghi to leave so she could return before dark - because this forest road was absolutely not safe to travel at night - Nam saw her out to the school gate, looking somewhat different from when they first met.

"Thank you for coming up here today," he said, his voice much more sincere. "I'm sorry for being a bit harsh at first. It's just... I don't want the kids here to be disappointed again."

"I understand," Nghi smiled. "I'll be back, regularly, I promise. It may not be easy every time because of the roads, but I'll try."

Nam nodded, his eyes looking at her were both trusting and searching, as if wondering if this promise was different from the promises that had been forgotten. But when Nghi got in the car, started the engine, and was about to turn back down the mountain, he still stood there, watching until the car's shadow completely disappeared behind the trees, a small gesture that Nghi, through the rearview mirror, could still recognize.

On the way back, the car bounced over rocks. Nghi drove and thought back to that stormy initial encounter. She was not angry with Nam, on the contrary, she understood very clearly why he reacted like that. During more than a year of taking over the route, she also heard many similar stories - volunteer groups rushed to the highlands, took photos to publish in the newspaper, and then disappeared without a trace, leaving behind children who had just had time to taste the joy and had to learn to get used to the disappointment. Her father himself had told her, right from the first days, that the most valuable thing about this program was not the number of books brought, but the regularity, the trust built through each repeated trip, month after month, year after year.

Coming to the flatter part of the road, Nghi slowed down, took the notebook from the passenger seat, one hand still holding the steering wheel, quickly opened it to a blank page, scribbled a few lines before forgetting the details: "Nam Cay school - two multi-grade classes, seriously lacking textbooks, especially Math and Vietnamese for the senior classes. Teacher Ly Hoai Nam, the homeroom, is very dedicated but reserved with strangers. Student Lo Van Pao, good student, difficult situation, needs support with more reference books." After writing, she put the notebook back on the chair and smiled softly to herself. The road to Nam Cay was arduous, but she had the feeling that this would be a journey worth persistently pursuing, not only because of the children waiting for books, but also because of something else, vague but that had begun to grow in her heart since the initial probing eyes of that copy teacher.