(Seed For The Future) Playin' in the rain, without Gene Kelly

The air is cooling, the clouds darkening. In a sudden stampede, inhabitants put on large waterproof capes coming down their bare feet, ready to climb back up their scooter and set off again. The gloomy horizon is now plunging the city into a cumbersome atmosphere. An undeniable threat lingers under the Vietnam. Two minutes later, a downpour is drowning the damaged roads in its brownish liquid arms, moulding the pavements and the doorways, seeping in the tuck shops and the houses: monsoon is back.

Subject to fantasies and fears, the rainy season is inherent to Vietnamese people’s daily life. Afflicted by humid surprises, the various affected areas initiate a wild dance with a harmful deluge, as happy for cotton and rice cultivation as troubled about brutal bad weather. A dangerous game which could be distorted by the effects of climate change in Southeast Asia: heavier rainy periods, growing year-to-year variability, uncertain damages on atmospheric dust and pollution. And yet, between May and October, colourful profiles parade in the flooded streets, splashing water between bikes and cars, busy slaloming to their destination. Every man for himself, but every man contending with the same trouble; the faces stay cheerful, and common laughs bring down the language barrier. You might be soaked along the ride, but dry from the moment you are home.

There, sitting on the warm doorstep, you attend a brilliant show performed by Saigon’s inhabitants: succinctly lit up by rumbling flashes of lightning, they drive their motorised machines between potholes and reliefs of the town, decked out in cages full of hens or giant cardboard boxes, holding their dog on their knees while standing on high sublime heels. And within the open school playgrounds, excited children are playing in the rain in their muddy flip-flops. “And [they’re] laughing at clouds / So dark up above / ‘Cause the sun’s in [their] heart.”

Then, the rain stops.