Each morning in Cu Chi, a commune that was previously part of a namesake rural district on the outskirts of Ho Chi Minh City before a recent administrative reorganization, a familiar rasp echoes down the quiet roads: “Refill lighters here… who needs a refill?”

It is Tran The Hung, 61, pedaling his rusted bicycle beneath the heat, carrying a wooden box filled with tools and spare parts — tiny flints, worn lighters, and a makeshift prying tool crafted from a spoon.

For more than three decades, Hung has repaired and refilled disposable gas lighters, a trade that once flourished across southern Vietnam.

Today, in a city transformed by rapid urbanization, he may be the last man still doing it.

As long as I still have the strength to ride, I’ll keep going. Some people still wait for me. The lighter might be worthless, but they keep it, hoping I’ll come by.

Tran The Hung

A trade fading with time

After a quick breakfast of leftover rice prepared by his wife the night before, Hung sets off at dawn.

He cycles for hours, sometimes all the way to the former Binh Duong Province or into Hoc Mon area, looking for customers who still rely on fire — families cooking with wood or elderly men rolling their own cigarettes.

When someone waves a broken lighter, Hung stops, examines it, and begins his delicate ritual.

With a wire, he pokes a small hole through the lighter’s plastic base, fills it with gas, then plugs it with his finger before resealing the device.

In just a few minutes, the flame returns.

“It looks simple, but it’s not,” he said, sweat on his brows.

“If it were that easy, everyone would do it.

“I’ve taught so many people, even making tools for them, but they never stick with it.”

In the 1980s and 1990s, lighter refilling was a common sight in Vietnam.

Hung recalls those days fondly when he sipped coffee while customers gathered, lighters in hand.

Back then, he did not need to chase business.

“Now, most of the old clients are gone,” he said.

“Many of them passed away.

“It won’t be long before it’s my turn, too.”

Technology and convenience have all but extinguished the need for his service.

Electric stoves and modern appliances have replaced the humble gas lighter in most homes.

Many younger people simply toss lighters once they are empty.

Still, Hung continues.

On a good day, he might earn VND70,000 (US$2.7). On others, just half that.

But it is not just about the money.

‘‘Selling fire keeps me happy,” he said.

“And it makes others happy as well.”

Even on rainy days, Hung wraps himself in a rain poncho and pedals on.

“Some days it’s like sunbathing for cash,” he joked.

“It’s never enough, but never really lacking either.

“As long as the flame keeps burning, I keep going.”

Holding onto fire — and memories

Nguyen Thi Tuyet, 41, a neighbor and long-time customer, still saves up three or four old lighters for Hung whenever she hears him coming.

“We cook with wood, so we still need fire,” she said.

“New lighters cost about the same, but he puts in better flints, so they last longer.”

For others, it is not utility but old memoirs that bring them to Hung.

Some customers ask him to revive old lighters they cannot bear to part with — relics of loved ones or moments long gone.

Hung replaces the wheel, swaps the flint, fills the tank, and gives the worn plastic one more chance to spark.

“People don’t fix things anymore. They replace them,” he said, staring down an asphalt road lined with LED lights.

“It’s all changed. The streets are bright now.

“But I still remember the days when homes were lit by oil lamps.

“That’s when we were needed.”

And so, as the city moves faster and brighter, Tran The Hung pedals on, perhaps as the last of Ho Chi Minh City’s ‘fire sellers,’ keeping not just lighters alive, but a piece of memory with each flickering flame.