When I was young, Grandma taught me how to weave beautiful crafts from water hyacinth, a plant native to my hometown, Long An. Besides the little money my parents strugglingly earned in the city and the food Grandpa received from a pagoda, weaving was our means of survival. 

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I vividly remember those nights under the flickering oil lamps, my hands slick with sweat due to palmar hyperhidrosis, struggling to keep the delicate fibers in place. Grandma weaved beside me while humming southern folk songs: "Southward I drift, eyes upon the mournful stream,/Moved by lives adrift, like hyacinths in fleeting dreams." Final crafts would be loaded onto Grandma’s old bicycle for transportation to a local market where Grandma and I would sell them. 

Looking back, weaving water hyacinth fabrics has taught me the meticulousness of building things step-by-step while the market selling experience let me meet people from all walks of life: curious foreigners eagerly exploring the products, some city ladies’ scornful conversations with me, couples buying anniversary gifts for lovers, and children begging their parents to buy all of our products.

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In high school, I initiated this nonprofit enterprise to relive cherished childhood memories and transform the lives of farmers in Mekong Delta, especially female farmers in my hometown. This enterprise was more than a fundraising initiative; I explored the rich traditions, natural landscapes, and local life across Southern provinces while addressing issues of domestic violence, technology inaccessibility, and limited access to STEM education for girls.