07/06/2026
Bà Mẹ Gio Linh: “The Mother of Gio Linh” is a Vietnamese song that the French government wishes could be expunged from their history, and that’s exactly why you should learn about this musical masterpiece. So let’s learn together yet another example of how French atrocities inspired Vietnamese ingenuities–it was more than just coffee, bánh mì, and phở.
"The devastatingly haunting song vividly captures the details of a tragic historical event that occurred in 1948 in Mai Xá village of Gio Linh district. French colonialists captured and beheaded two local resistance leaders, Nguyễn Đức Kỳ and Nguyễn Văn Phi, then mounted their severed heads on stakes and displayed them in front of the public market.
"The mothers of these two men, Mommas Lê Thị Cháu and Hoàng Thị Sáng, upon hearing the news of their sons’ fates, did not make a scene nor shed a single tear–not in public anyway. Instead, in the late hours of the night, they quietly went to retrieve their sons’ heads from the market, and carried them home in woven bamboo baskets. Per some recounts, neighbors helped the families build small wooden boxes to bury their sons’ remains in dignity, as there were no coffins to fit the severed heads.
"A few months later, a young musician named Phạm Duy was traveling through the region with the resistance troupes. Upon hearing the heartbreaking story, Phạm Duy stayed up all night and composed the song “Bà Mẹ Gio Linh” (The Mother of Gio Linh). The lyrics of the song are as gut-wrenching as you would imagine. The climax of the song displays the cruel tragedy in raw, unforgiving details:
“Elderly Mother is watering the farm fields
She hears the villagers cry in terror
The enemies have captured her child
And took him to the market to behead
Choking back tears, without saying a single word
Mother brings a bundle of cloth to retrieve the head
The road back to the village was so desolate
In the distance, the sound of temple bells rang”
"At the beginning of this verse, the musical instruments start out low and somber, then gradually crescendo to merge with the intense wailing of singer’s voice–until you find yourself engulfed in the eye of the grievous, raging storm, and you yourself feel all the profound emotions that a parent would feel when they have to carry their child’s severed head home in a woven bamboo basket, while walking past the smirking faces of the executioners.
"Phạm Duy later disclosed in an interview that after finishing the song, he “wept like a child”, as though the tears that those mothers were forbidden to cry had transmuted and unleashed through him. Phạm Duy would go on to become one of the most iconic names in Vietnamese music...
"As the story goes, years later, a young journalist traveled back to the Gio Linh region to find the women who were the inspiration behind the song. To his surprise–or unsurprising expectation–no less than 100 women came forward and identified themselves as “The Mother of Gio Linh.” They were all telling the truth, because they all resonated with the descriptions.
"Because that wasn’t the ONLY time the French had terrorized Vietnamese villagers in the same fashion. They had done this again and again, trampling their ways from village to village, searching for the next victims to behead and put on public display. Their goal was simple: to instill fear and intimidation–resist and your head could be next on that stake.
"And time and time again, the “Mothers of Gio Linh,” choking back tears, without a single word, went to retrieve their children’s heads and carried them home in woven bamboo baskets.
The French pillaged their way through my family’s village in 1947. For the long time followers who are familiar with my family’s story, then you know of the defining moment when my great-grandmother calmly gathered her husband’s bones into a copper pot–two years after the French shot and killed him, then commandeered their home and forced her and her children into exile. My great-grandmother was 7-months pregnant. Thanks to a family friend who quickly buried his body in the farmland nearby, she was able to retrieve his remains later–with her bare hands, choking back tears and without saying a single word– and carried him home in a copper pot. Her head held high and her walk dignified.
My great-grandmother was a “Mother of Gio Linh.” But throughout human history, there have been “Mothers of Gio Linh” everywhere.
"I have written about my adopted Salvadorian Abuela, who survived the Salvadorian civil war. One day, while Abuela was working in the cornfield, she heard two clear shots in the distance that “cut through her heart.” Later, an 8-months pregnant Abuela would be searching through the cornfields of Perquin to gather her husband’s and brother’s dismembered remains that the enemy forces had intentionally scattered–her head held high and her walk dignified. My Abuela was a “Mother of Gio Linh.”
"But like all Vietnamese songs that mourn tragic geopolitical events, “The Mothers of Gio Linh” ended with optimistic HOPE for the future. The last verse of the song depicts “Mother” adopting and caring for an orphaned baby, symbolizing a new seed, a new generation, a new dawn, a new tomorrow. This resolution from tragedy to hope is a common theme present in other iconic songs like Trịnh Công Sơn’s “Song for the Human Corpses,” which depicts the horrific scenes of the 1968 Tết Offensive.
"Because there’s one thing you should know about Vietnamese people: we’re always hopeful for the future. We mourn our hearts out with songs on our lips, while our feet keep marching forward.
And that’s exactly what all the “Mothers of Gio Linh” would want to tell you. They wouldn’t want you to pity them. The purpose of this story is not to evoke a pity party or to bemoan the French’s or any government’s wrongdoings. My great-grandmother’s descendants are thriving and successful. Abuela’s children and grandchildren are thriving and successful. Vietnam and her people are thriving and growing our cultural footprints globally, despite all that we’ve been through.
"They would want you to remember that: behind every story of resilience, persistence, and victory, there are hundreds and thousands of “Mothers of Gio Linh,” quietly weaving and guiding the thorny roads, one brave, dignified step at a time."
The lyrics:
'The old mother tills the land to plant potatoes,
raising her son who fights the enemy day and night.
Even though her clothes are tattered and worn,
and her meals are sometimes full, sometimes empty.
Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
The house was burned down, but it remains .
They urge each other to take revenge this time.
The mother rejoices that her son killed many enemies,
diligently tilling and cultivating the land.
Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
Her son happily goes out, carrying his gun back morning and evening.
The old mother, with one patriotic son, is no less patriotic.
At night, she hears the distant sound of gunfire. She prays for her son to live a life of unwavering devotion.
The old mother waters the vegetables,
hearing the cries of the villagers:
The enemy has captured her son, taken him to the market, and beheaded him . Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
She chokes back tears, unable to speak a word. She carries her
bundle to retrieve his head.
The road back to the village is desolate,
but in the distance, the sound of temple bells rings.
Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
With hands raised, tears welling up,
Mother looks at her child's head, white hair fluttering in the wind.
"I love my child, my child, lips stained with the blood of the flag.
A naive smile, eyes gazing at me."
The old mother boils water, waiting for someone.
Night after night, guns roar,
startling the orphaned child Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
The soldiers have come to visit,
rekindling the lively fire in the hearth.
The old mother goes to get a pot of sweet potatoes,
carrying it up, the smoke rising faintly.
Ho ơi ơi ới ho! Ho ơi ơi ới ho!
When she sees her adopted children gathered under the hut,
Mother looks at her children, remembering her child of the past "My child, my child! Drink this full bowl of water.
One day or two, remember to come visit here." '
Correction from the author, Under The Squash Vines: "One thing to note: the illustration art used in this post is for the song “Bà Mẹ Nuôi”, which is the SEQUEL song to “Bà Mẹ Gio Linh.”
“Bà Mẹ Nuôi” means “The adopted mother.” As I mentioned in my original post, at the end of Bà Mẹ Gio Linh, “Mother” adopted an orphaned baby."
https://www.facebook.com/underthesquashvines/posts/
