When people talk about the ancient fishing village of Nam O, they immediately think of its famous traditional fish sauce and the practice of harvesting seaweed from the rugged coastal rocks. To truly understand the dedication and resilience of the villagers in preserving their craft through difficult times, I made my way back from the heart of the city to speak with the locals. To me, Nam O is breathtaking—a village where the mountains embrace its back while the sea stretches out before it, carrying with it a rich history and cultural legacy. But what stands out the most is its renowned fish sauce-making tradition. This famous craft in Nam O has gained a place alongside the famous fish sauce brands of Phu Quoc and Phan Thiet.

The renowned Nam O fish sauce-making tradition stands proudly alongside the famous fish sauce brands of Phu Quoc and Phan Thiet. Photo: HUYNH VAN TRUYEN.

Deeply devoted to thecraft

Along the narrow village road by the sea, dozens of traditional fish sauce signboards—“Ba Nhut”, “Binh Minh”, “Ngoc Vinh”, “Ba Hoa”—are neatly displayed. Large earthen jars and ceramic vats filled with fermenting fish sauce line the spacious courtyards, extending to the small alleyways. Their rich, savory aroma mingles with the sound of crashing waves and the whispering sea breeze, creating a refreshing and soulful experience for anyone who visits.

In this setting, I came across Mrs. Bui Thi Hoa (81 years old, residing in Hoa Hiep Nam Ward, Lien Chieu District) carefully arranging bottles of fish sauce in a glass cabinet. She has been devoted to this craft for nearly 65 years. Recalling the times when the trade was fading, she spent countless nights wondering whether to hold on or let go. Yet, her deep attachment to the craft kept her going, and after more than half a lifetime, she remains steadfast—bound to the fish, to the sauce. It was through fish sauce that she managed to raise and educate her seven children, despite the many hardships along the way. Looking beyond her own struggles, she hopes to join hands with fellow villagers to preserve the tradition. And perhaps, as a well-deserved reward for her perseverance—and that of Nam O’s people—the Nam O fish sauce brand has proudly earned its place on Vietnam’s national map of traditional fish sauces.

"In the past, every household in the village made fish sauce, so from the entrance of the alley to the very last corner, the rich aroma of fish sauce filled the air. Even the children grew up recognizing its scent and tasting its flavor. But for a time, for various reasons, the craft faded into obscurity. Yet, deep in my heart, I always hoped for the revival of Nam O fish sauce. Now, seeing it regain some of its former glory—and, more importantly, knowing that we have preserved our ancestors’ traditional craft—brings me great joy," Mrs. Hoa reflected thoughtfully.

Mrs. Hoa reminisced about her youth—at just 15 years old, still too young to fully understand life's struggles, yet she was already deeply involved in the family trade. Whenever the fishing boats docked, whether at dawn or late into the night, she would accompany her grandmother and mother to buy fresh fish and carry them home. She personally sorted the finest black anchovies, cleaned them, and salted them before placing them into large earthen jars for fermentation. She also vividly recalled the days of selling fish sauce, carrying heavy loads on her shoulders as she walked miles to the city, sometimes making detours through Hoa Lien and even up to Hoa Bac. Just a decade ago, when she was still strong, she maintained the same routine as her mother and grandmother did. But as age took its toll, she shifted to selling from home, relying on her family to deliver orders when customers called.

According to Mrs. Hoa, Nam O fish sauce does not rely on any secret recipe or special formula. However, makers must master the fundamental steps to achieve the perfect balance of sweetness, depth, and clarity in the sauce. The fish sauce season runs from March to July, with black anchovies and Sa Huynh sea salt as the key ingredients. The fishing season is divided into two phases: the March harvest, known as the South season, and the July harvest, called the North season. Each season requires different salt ratios. During the South season, when summer brings higher salinity to the seawater, less salt is needed in the fermentation process. Conversely, in the North season, when the colder months make seawater less salty, a higher salt content is required to ensure proper preservation. Once salted, the fish must ferment for a minimum of 12 months, and a maximum of 2 years.

Not far from Mrs. Hoa’s home, Mrs. Bui Thi Lien (85 years old) is also a veteran in the fish sauce-making trade. Although she retired over a decade ago due to health reasons, her daughter has since taken over the family craft. When I asked whether making fish sauce was a demanding job, both Mrs. Lien and Mrs. Hoa firmly stated that it wasn’t—at least not in terms of physical labor. The work allows for flexible scheduling, but the real challenge lies in the long capital turnover and limited market demand. Without passion and patience, it’s difficult to sustain the business. Because of this, during the long fermentation period, families like Mrs. Lien’s, Mrs. Hoa’s, and many others in the village take on additional jobs to sustain their livelihood while keeping their love for the craft alive. They produce fermented shrimp paste (mam ruoc), anchovy sauce (mam nem), dried fish, and other preserved seafood products. Meanwhile, the men, with their strong hands on the oars, head out to sea, harvest snails, and dig for clams to supplement their income. This way of life gave rise to the well-known Nam O saying: "Men go to sea, women make fish sauce."

Making a living on the rocks

In Nam O, there exists another time-honored profession—harvesting seaweed from the rocky cliffs. For hundreds of years, this trade has been a lifeline for many generations. According to the elders of the village, this particular type of seaweed, also known as “heaven’s gift”, grows exclusively on high coastal rock formations—where freshwater from rivers meets the saltwater of the sea. These unique conditions create the perfect environment for its growth, making it a rare commodity found only in Quang Ngai, Phu Yen, and Da Nang. Hearing about this trade already gives a sense of its extreme difficulty, but listening to firsthand accounts from those who do it made me realize that it’s not just a challenging job—it’s one that puts lives at risk, gambling with the forces of nature.

Despite the countless dangers, this rare seaweed has long been a lifeline for many families. Speaking about the trade, Mr. Dinh Minh Son (48 years old) shared that although harvesting seaweed is a traditional profession, many have abandoned it. This is because they are unable to endure the relentless waves crashing against them as they balance on towering rocky cliffs. To prove his point, Mr. Son recalled how a friend of his gave up after just a few attempts, while many others in the region have tragically lost their lives to the treacherous reefs and open sea. Yet for Mr. Son, who has spent nearly 20 years in this trade, leaving has never been an option. The burden of making a living keeps him going, and, in truth, he wouldn’t know what else to do. More than that, his passion for this work runs too deep—so no matter how tough it gets, he perseveres, adapting to the hardships.

“The trade of harvesting seaweed has existed for generations, but it’s only in recent years that more people have come to appreciate it—as a natural, flavorful, and highly nutritious product,” Mr. Son shared. Thanks to this growing recognition, the price of this seaweed has surged. At its lowest, it sells for 220,000 VND per kilogram, while the highest-quality varieties can fetch up to 2.6 million VND per kilogram. The seaweed comes in different forms, including fine-cut seaweed, dried seaweed, and fresh seaweed.

According to Mr. Son, from October to December, the persistent rains and northern winds create the perfect conditions for this kind of seaweed to thrive along the rocky shores at the foot of Hai Van Pass. Harvesting this seaweed requires just two tools: a mesh scoop and a small iron spoon. Each day, before dawn at 3 a.m., Mr. Son begins his trek from the edge of Hai Van forest, walking for more than two hours down the mountain pass. By 5 a.m., he reaches the rugged shoreline and starts his precarious climb across jagged rocks, collecting seaweed until the sun rises high overhead. The trade follows a simple rule: where the waves are weaker, the seaweed is scarce; but in deeper, more treacherous rock crevices battered by strong waves, seaweed grows in abundance. Depending on the weather and his stamina, Mr. Son chooses how far to venture for his harvest. On a slow day, he gathers only a few kilograms; on a good day, he can collect more than ten kilograms. Over the course of a year, his earnings from seaweed harvesting amount to several tens of millions of VND.

Having spent years in the trade, Mr. Tran Van Trong (56 years old) gazes into the distance and reflects on the challenges of the profession. "This job demands constant vigilance," he says. "You have to read the waves, stay cautious, and never take reckless risks. The rocks are slippery—one misstep, and you could be thrown against them. You must anticipate the movement of the waves, climbing down at just the right moment. If you cling to the rocks when a wave crashes in, the impact can be extremely dangerous." Beyond skill, harvesting seaweed requires physical endurance. Seaweed gatherers spend hours submerged in water, battling relentless waves, enduring exhaustion and the chill of the sea. But if you live with the profession, you have to follow it. I just hope to have enough health to continue making a living in the traditional profession that my ancestors left behind.

Reporting by TUONG VY - Translating by HONG VAN