Each time I stop at a traffic light or visit a street food vendor, I can’t help looking around at nearby utility poles and naked patches of wall that are full of posters advertising moving services.
These A3 or A4 sheets with bolded words in Arial and giant font sizes ensure passersby can immediately read the content at just a glance: moving trucks, room for rent, office moving services, etc. Some show visible signs of wear and tear, others are pasted straight onto old ones and leftover corners — the results of local authorities’ attempts at tidying up public areas, no doubt.
As I marvel at this patchwork of posters, I return to the times when I myself participated in this moving economy, struggling to pack and haul everything to the street and watching fragments of my life being shipped off to a new place. I remember stepping into the lobby of my apartment and seeing piles of someone else’s boxes next to moving trucks.
Saigon is a city of tireless movements that happen constantly every day. After joining local Facebook groups for rental seekers, I discovered a lively community of people leaving, moving in, asking for quotes, and reviewing places. People move out for diverse reasons: the contract expires, they change jobs, family situations change, or even because the landlord has sold the building. Moving becomes an everyday ritual and moving services a crucial life essential, especially to those who tend to overindulge in interior decoration.
I sometimes wonder about the people behind the phone numbers on those posters. Their sharp questions and deep intonations surprise you when you call. On the off chance that it’s not a scam number, the replies would come from an uncle or auntie who’s dedicated their life to befriending moving boxes, random knick-knacks, and numerous trips weaving in and out Saigon’s labyrinthine network of alleys to accommodate the city’s ever-moving population.
Each of those trips carries not just someone’s material possessions, but also their memories, concerns, and even hopes, as they leave behind a home to seek new horizons. Perhaps, the movers were also movees once, picking up their lives elsewhere to settle down in Saigon.
How much of Saigon’s culture and demographic makeup was contributed by immigrants? I’m not sure how to answer such a profound question.
Still, I have witnessed the arrival of generations of people here, ready and hopeful for changes, for chances to develop and make a living. A few of them might stay and become movers to help other newcomers settle down. Old, tattered moving posters will be replaced by new ones, like a physical embodiment of the vicious circle of urban life. It’s precisely that constant rhythm that fuels Saigon’s passionate, unrelenting life force.
