In the diverse ethnic patchwork that is Viet Nam they don’t come much smaller than the Giay. But what they lack in numbers – there’s only an estimated 38,000 – they make up for in... singing.
Sometimes known as Nhang or Giang, they settled from China about 200 years ago, variously in the Bat Xat, Bao Thang and Muong Khuong areas of Lao Cai Province; the Yen Minh and Dong Van areas of Ha Giang Province; and in Phong Tho and Muong Te in Lai Chau Province.
In their artistic and literary treasury the Giay have orally transmitted legends and poetry, folk songs, children’s songs, and riddles. In that they are no different from many hill tribes. But they are proud of their three distinctive styles of singing, called Vuon or Phuon. If the spiritual life of a people is determined by their culture, the Giay point to their folk songs, which they see as an essential part of their daily life. They sing when they are sad, when they are merry and while they are working. And when two or more are together, they sing even more. The ring of their songs accompanies their trips to the forest to fetch fire-wood and bamboo-shoots, hoeing vegetables, feeding their pigs and horses, and planting and reaping rice.

Visitors are greeted with a song and hear another on departure. Festivals of song, not surprisingly, form a big part of their cultural calendar. When they are sad they sing songs bewailing their karma with slow, deep and low melodies, but no less beautiful for that. They sing to praise nature, their love of fellow human beings, of the rich and the poor, the high and the low, of love – won and lost. The Giay community favour ba then, or mediums, who often lead the singing, accompanied by a thay mo, or witch doctor, who chants prayer-songs, especially at funerals.
Not for nothing do they say: "He who does not sing and laugh must be an evil-minded man." Their folk songs, they say, forge the soul, a person’s feelings, their relationship with each other and their sense of community. And that’s why it’s important to them. They also prize tradition as well as song: girls must learn needle-work and winnowing, boys learn cooking and weaving. All must work hard. And, above all else, must sing. Songs, and the stories behind them, are handed down in regular late night, post harvest supper parties, often family affairs with teen-agers teaching their younger brothers and sisters,and learning in turn from their parents and grandparents.
The Giay, traditionally split into distinct social classes of notables and peasants, surprisingly have no written language of their own, though some still use the traditional Han ancient Chinese script, and their language derives from the linguistic family of Thai-Ka Dai. But, they say, they have the universal language – of song.