The Chut of Rao Tre have transformed their lives over three decades, but memories of forest births, infant deaths and marriage between relatives remain painfully vivid.
Editor’s note: Deep in the mountains of western Ha Tinh, the Chut community in Rao Tre once lived in isolation and extreme hardship. Long-standing practices, including giving birth beside streams and marriage between close relatives, along with outdated farming methods, persisted for generations, holding back the community’s development.
Over more than three decades, as the community gradually settled into a permanent way of life, Party and State policies for ethnic minorities have steadily taken root. The enduring support of Border Guard soldiers, local authorities, teachers and grassroots officials, combined with the Chut people’s own determination to build a better future, has brought visible change to Rao Tre.
VietNamNet presents the series “The Chut: From the shadow of old customs toward the light of modern life,” chronicling the transformation of a community through changing attitudes, education, livelihoods and aspirations for a new way of life.
About 80km from central Ha Tinh toward the Vietnam-Laos border lies Rao Tre Village in Phuc Trach Commune, home to a community of Chut people. The village now has 46 households with 160 residents. Life has changed considerably, but memories of the years when deeply rooted customs shaped almost every aspect of life remain vivid for many.
Rao Tre today, where the Chut community has gradually transformed many aspects of life. Photo: Dau Tinh
Village head Ho Thi Kien, born in 1988, said the ancestors of the Chut people in Ha Tinh once lived mainly in caves deep in the Truong Son Mountains, almost entirely isolated from the outside world. They survived by hunting and gathering, while their lives were shaped by customs handed down through generations.
In the early 1990s, the community was encouraged to leave the caves and settle permanently in Rao Tre. From then on, alongside the resettlement process and support from the Party and State, Ha Tinh Border Guard soldiers maintained a continuous presence in the village, helping residents stabilize their lives, gain access to healthcare and education, change farming practices and gradually abandon customs that had endured for generations. Yet such transformation could not happen overnight.
Growing up at a time when those practices still had a profound influence on community life, Kien witnessed many painful stories in which villagers’ lives were effectively placed at the mercy of deeply entrenched beliefs.
“In the past, there were vast stretches of mountains and land, but no one in the village wanted to farm. People lived in poverty and drinking was widespread. They placed far greater faith in shamans, spirits and rituals than in knowledge. As a result, many outdated practices persisted and led to countless tragedies,” Kien said.
Village head Ho Thi Kien and Border Guard soldiers have helped Rao Tre gradually move away from long-standing outdated practices.
One of the practices that haunts her most was women giving birth beside streams. When labor began, they would often walk alone to secluded places deep in the forest, with no midwife, no medicine and no medical assistance of any kind. In the wilderness, the line between life and death could be terrifyingly thin.
Kien herself, like many Chut people of her generation, was born under such circumstances.
Her mother gave birth beside a stream six times. Amid such severe deprivation, three of her children did not survive after birth. The same grief followed many other families in the village.
Ho Kham, a woman who has spent her entire life in Rao Tre, gave birth alone beside a stream eight times. With each delivery, she entrusted her fate to chance and her faith in the spirits. Four of her babies died shortly after birth without medical assistance. She had to bury her own children with her own hands soon after they were born.
Ho Kham continues to carry the grief of losing her children.
Even now, in her 50s, she struggles to contain her grief when recalling those memories.
“I was alone, fighting unbearable pain. Deep in the forest at night, all I could hear were wild animals. Many women gave birth beside streams and then became exhausted or developed infections. Sometimes both the mother and baby died,” she recalled, her voice breaking with emotion.
According to Major Nguyen Duc Long, a military doctor with the Border Guard team stationed in Rao Tre, the health of the Chut community was alarming many years ago, with high mortality, low life expectancy and widespread malnutrition among children. The causes lay not only in harsh living conditions but also in traditional practices that prevented many residents from gaining timely access to modern healthcare. The belief that “if you live, you fend for yourself; if you die, you bury yourself” persisted for years.
The tragedy of consanguineous marriage
Major Nguyen Duc Long, a military doctor, provides medical examinations and healthcare for Chut children in Rao Tre. Photo: Border Guard
Marriage between close relatives was once another deeply rooted practice and one of the greatest obstacles to the community’s development.
After living in isolation among the Ka Day mountains for so long, marriage was largely confined to people within the village and extended families. Marriages between cousins, and even between uncles and nieces, once occurred, leaving consequences that endured across generations.
Lieutenant Colonel Duong Thanh Tinh, former head of the Border Guard team stationed in Rao Tre, remains troubled by memories of that period. He said that as recently as around a decade ago, consanguineous marriage was still relatively common in the village.
As a consequence, many children were born physically weak, developmentally delayed or with congenital disabilities. Some did not survive.
One marriage between an uncle and his niece particularly haunted him. After marrying, the couple had several children, but each died at a very young age.
“We joined the family in arranging the children’s funerals more than once. Every time was heartbreaking,” Tinh said.
Village head Ho Thi Kien said that because the community had lived in isolation among the Ka Day mountains, marriage between relatives became a vicious cycle that followed the Chut of Rao Tre for generations.
The tragedy was present within her own family, from her parents’ marriage to that of her older sister.
Border Guard soldiers have accompanied the community on its journey to change attitudes and abandon outdated practices. Photo: Border Guard
Kien said these marriages within a closed community kept repeating from one generation to the next, leaving behind pain that was difficult to put into words. It is a period many people in Rao Tre would rather not revisit.
The cycle of consanguineous marriage in Rao Tre persisted until 2015. That year, Ho Xanh married Ho A San, who was also a close relative. Of their two children, one died at a very young age, while the other was born with a disability and cannot walk normally.
Sitting beside the child, Xanh told VietNamNet: “We loved each other, so we simply decided to live together. We didn’t think much about it. We never imagined the consequences would be this painful.”
Ending consanguineous marriage and the practice of relying solely on shamans was not simply about abandoning old customs. It required a transformation in attitudes, broader connections with the outside world and gradual integration into modern life.
That journey was also built on sustained attention from the Party and State toward ethnic minority communities, along with the persistence of Border Guard soldiers, local authorities and those who remained in the village to bring policies and support directly to every household.
According to Tinh, more importantly, the Chut themselves gradually overcame the constraints of the past and chose a different life for the generations that would follow.
The customs that once “imprisoned” so many lives at the foot of Ka Day Mountain could not disappear overnight. But from those painful losses came the first catalysts for change, opening a journey that would transform the thinking of an entire community, break down long-standing barriers and ultimately bring significant progress.
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