Does the woman who sold sticky rice — cô bán xôi — know what she did?

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Does she remember that day, many years ago, when a hungry young man sat quietly by the roadside, worn thin by hardship, empty in both stomach and spirit?

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Does she know that when she handed him a small plate of xôi — warm, fragrant, humble — without asking for anything in return, that gesture etched itself into his memory, not as a transaction, but as a saving grace?

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He never forgot. Because in that moment, she didn’t just give him food. She gave him proof — proof that humanity, even in its simplest form, still existed.

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In this life, there are many who are eager to embroider gold on silk (thêu hoa trên gấm), to perform generosity when it’s convenient or rewarded. But how many offer coal in the snowy night (cho than trong đêm tuyết) — something warm, something necessary, when the world feels coldest?

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The answer lies not in grand gestures, but in moments like this one.

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That day, cô bán xôi may have been worried about not selling enough. She may have been tired, busy, thinking about her own bills, her own family, her own burdens. She likely had no idea that the small kindness she extended would not just fill one empty stomach, but would leave a lasting imprint on a life — and, in time, many lives.

 

Because that young man--he carried her kindness with him for the last 45 years. Through struggles, through resettlement, through building a life in a foreign land. He paid it forward — quietly, constantly — in ways big and small. That one act of compassion became a seed. And over decades, it grew into a garden of goodwill, nourishing not just him, but others who would one day need a little light, a little warmth, a little hope.

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Every person we pass on the street is fighting a battle we may never see. Some are on the edge of surrender. Others carry wounds so deep they cannot speak of them. We, the passersby, may never know the depth of their pain — or how close they are to giving up.

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But what we can do is what cô bán xôi did: offer kindness without condition. Give without keeping score. Help, not for thanks or recognition, but simply because someone needs it.

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This article is not just a tribute to cô bán xôi, though it is certainly that. It is a question, too:

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If she knew — if she knew what her one small act of kindness did — would it change how she saw herself? Would it encourage her to keep giving?

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And for the rest of us: What if we believed that our smallest acts could spark something lasting, even life-changing? What if we knew that one kind word, one warm meal, one moment of attention could echo through someone else’s lifetime?

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We may never see the full ripple of what we do.

But let us do good anyway.

Let us choose kindness — especially when no one is watching.

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Because sometimes, what seems like a simple gift of xôi is actually a turning point.

A moment of grace.

A reason to keep going.

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And that, more than anything, is what it means to be human.

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(Inspired by cô bán xôi, as remembered in Mr. Nguyễn Văn Có’s memoir.)

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​By Tử Hà