Like a bow. In the depths of this ethnic arc conquered by the strength of the arms and the power of the hocks of the minority ethnic groups from time immemorial from the south of China, who settled there; daily life is devoted to work on the mountainside, after hours of walking, the body constantly strained, the body stretched like a bow on the steep slopes. At this rate, life expectancy rarely exceeds sixty. Infant mortality reaches 50% of infants before the age of five.

Blued Hands. Hands turned blue. On Sunday market days, women dress in their traditional costume; some gather, bustle about, noticed from afar by the shimmering, illuminated colors; the others, Mong women from Sa Pa, the only ones to make indigo linen fabrics. They walk in groups, dressed all in black. Hands blued bu force of dyeing, constantly moving, one pulling the thread from the shoulder bag, to wrap it in the shape of an 8 around the outstretched thumb and little finger of the other, then transform the small ball into a big one before burying at the bottom of the bag. On the left a Dzao with the child on his back holds pieces of blue indigo linen. Or even these women wearing simple corsages in the identity colors of their group (black, white, purple, etc.) chat while sitting on blocks of stone around a table cut into the rock and garnished with cooked dishes. Bun on the top of the head, a sign of married women.

Forehead smooth and sweaty. There is in particular a visually identifiable group, these are the women of a sub-group of Dzaos, nicknamed Dzaos with shaved foreheads, wearing knotted terry cloth on their heads, sitting near their crates of vegetables. When one of them takes it off, she reveals the top of her forehead smooth and sweaty, her hair matted and damp. When we seek to know what the meaning of this tradition is, none is able to provide us with an explanation. But barely have we finished talking when a young merchant, a cradle at her side, sitting in the background implores us: "Please help me get rid of this baby. If you don't want, please ask your friends to be kind enough to adopt him!". What would you have done in our place when her voice ends with a word that shakes you?

Soft marriage bonds. Among the Tàys, there is a form of free union that the loving couple does not need parental blessing. The woman takes the chosen one to her home. He integrates into his new home, fulfills his filial duties. But if the links were to break, everything would happen without any apparent drama. He would then leave all his possessions as a sign of gratitude, leaving at nightfall through the side door.

Thirty dollars a month. These minority ethnic groups are left behind, living on meager produce from their land not exceeding thirty dollars per month, protecting themselves through community life governed by matriarchy, because many men have gone to work far away. Sometimes some find the happiness of expatriating as laborers thanks to the quota that the government grants to poor provinces. But this expatriation most often becomes a journey of no return which can transform an entire village into a matrimonial regime as we saw in Khang Chao where in three visits in six years, we saw only one infant in the arms from his mother.

Community support. In the harvest season, on the hillsides swarms a whole united population, without the visitors that we are managing to know where they come from, because they always answer: “From there !” Pointing to the horizon. That is to say, a few hours walk.

Mind the first blinder. Astonishing scene of life, because as much as these women and men roll up their sleeves to help each other, symbol of their social cohesion, as much they aspire to live isolated from each other among the groves and shrubs. But at the slightest call that the echo carries from house to house to announce, for example, our presence in Khang Chao where sixteen families of Muong live, the women arrive on tiptoe in the brick common room that we have had built. In 2010, chase us away with a smile to set the table… on the floor on mats. Cohesion certainly, but mind the first blinder: personal gifts trigger bitterness and stubborn jealousy. So the food products of basic necessities: rice, salt, oil... that we offer are noted down exactly in a school notebook before everyone signs with a hesitant hand. Then comes the sharing of cakes and sweets accompanied by steaming tea in the damp cold…

A blessed ground. On the way back to Pom Coong (Maï Châu), the headquarters of our association, one of us asks Mrs. Hiên, director of the Maï Châu schools and initiator of all our projects where cassava grows. She approaches a hedge, breaks a short stem, pushes it between two stones and then says to us:

– If you come back here next year, there will be a sprout!

‒ But why don't you plant it in the ground?

‒ These rocks are very calcareous. They retain moisture.

‒ A blessed ground! It's not like in black Africa, appreciates Marc, member of the office.

An object lesson. In Xa Linh, we distribute sandals to children. The next day, they come back proud to show them hanging from their necks. Accustomed to walking barefoot, they had taken them for toys. The mistress then improvises an object lesson!