Each morning at 7 a.m., a daughter drives Duong Van Phuc (79) and Ho Thi Nguyen (86) to the familiar sidewalk corner of Le Loi Street, Can Tho City. There, a small bread cart is chained to an electric pole - their humble place of business.
With a stooped back and trembling hands, Nguyen slowly arranges sauces, loaves of bread, pork rolls, eggs, stewed meat, and herbs on display.
Nearby, their daughter helps Phuc set up a small table for lottery tickets before rushing off to work.
Their daily struggle at this age often moves passersby to silence.
The couple has four children, but they lost two sons. In old age, they rent a small room for about 80 USD a month, living with their youngest daughter and granddaughter, scraping together what little they can. The family of their other daughter, who lives nearby, is also struggling to get by.
Though her memory has faded with age, Nguyen still grows quiet and distant when she speaks of her children.
“One died young. The other passed away at 38 from cancer,” she said, her voice breaking as she clasped her hands together. “Nearly 20 years ago, we sold our house trying to save him - but we couldn’t.”
The couple makes a living selling bread and lottery tickets. Photo: T.T
In her eyes, heavy with grief, is the quiet resilience of a mother who has endured unimaginable loss but still stands beside her husband.
Moved by their plight, a kind stranger once donated a small cart and an umbrella to ease their daily burden.
The couple usually brings only 20 loaves of bread to sell each day. If they’re lucky and sell out, they buy five more for extra income. Each fully stuffed loaf sells for just 10,000 VND - about 0.40 USD. It seems hardly enough to cover costs, but it's their entire livelihood.
Nguyen starts selling early and stays until evening.
Telling their story, their youngest daughter, Tu (54), recounted a night five years ago when Phuc sent his wife to a nearby store for a phone card. Hours passed and she never returned. The whole neighborhood panicked and split up to search.
“After four hours, a motorbike driver brought her home,” Tu recalled. “Someone had recognized her, paid the fare, and asked the driver to bring her back.”
The mother’s pain is visible when she remembers her lost children. Photo: T.T
Each day, they prepare only 20 loaves. If lucky, they add a few more. Photo: T.T
It wasn’t the only time she wandered off. On another occasion, a relative happened to spot her and brought her home safely.
“Since then, Dad never lets her out of his sight, especially when they’re selling,” Tu said.
While she was speaking, Phuc turned to call out to them.
“A customer just bought all the tickets for today. I’m going to get more,” he announced, smiling as he walked away slowly.
Few people would guess that not long ago, Phuc used to work as a motorbike taxi driver. One day, while picking up bread for his wife, he was hit by a car. The accident left him hospitalized for days and unable to continue his job. That’s when he started selling lottery tickets instead.
Just as life seemed to be stabilizing, a new blow struck.
In April, Phuc started feeling unwell. His daughter took him for a medical check. The result came like a thunderclap: cancer.
“There’s no money for treatment, so we brought him home. We just buy some herbal medicines to manage the symptoms,” Tu said.
Together, they continue through hardship, hand in hand. Photo: T.T
Now, each day, the couple brings out their small cart and tries to make ends meet, selling bread and stir-fried noodles. If they finish early, they buy five more loaves. Each sale means more medicine, another day of food.
Rainy days are the worst.
“The wind blows the tarp away. Sometimes the cart gets knocked over,” Phuc said. “But if I stop working, how do we live? I don’t want to be a burden to my children.”
Tu now lives with her parents. She takes hourly cleaning jobs to cover basic expenses. In her spare time, she helps them run the food stall.
Her daughter just graduated from university and is now preparing her job application.
“If everything goes well, maybe our family will finally catch a break,” Tu said, her eyes a mix of hope and worry.
Vietnamnet.vn
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