In Ho Chi Minh City, street vendors keep traditional cries alive amid changing times

"Hot sticky rice cakes," "banana sweet soup," and "fresh soybean milk" are among the cries that have long accompanied generations of street vendors, even as some have replaced their voices with loudspeakers.

For many vendors, however, the human voice remains an essential part of the trade.

"Street vending depends on the sales call," said Vuong, who has spent more than 20 years selling banana dessert, sponge cakes, and steamed layer cakes from a pushcart. 

"You have to call in a way that people remember and want to buy from you."

Some regular customers, especially older residents, say they recognize vendors simply by their voices and step outside to wait for them.

As Ho Chi Minh City moves from the dry season into the rains, Dam Van Thai, a 50-year-old migrant from Phu Tho Province, pedals through the streets each evening selling 'banh day' (round glutinous rice cakes) and 'banh chung' (square glutinous rice cakes).

After leaving his rented room in Tan Thoi Hiep Ward at dusk, he cycles more than 10 km through neighborhoods and alleyways before ending his route around 10:00 pm, calling out in his northern Vietnamese accent.

"I deliberately keep my northern voice," Thai said. 

"Many people from my hometown live and work here and still crave the food they grew up with."

Thai, who has worked as a street vendor in the city for more than a decade, said a clear voice helps customers distinguish what is being sold, while a warm and recognizable style encourages them to return.

He recalled that after COVID-19 lockdowns ended in 2021, longtime customers rushed out after hearing his familiar voice, relieved that he had returned because many street vendors had disappeared during the pandemic after falling ill.

Residents say they can often guess what is being sold from the vendor's accent and call.

Nguyen Thi Hang, 73, said vendors from northern Vietnam commonly sell items such as 'banh chung' and boiled eggs, while southern vendors are more likely to offer vegetables and sweet desserts.

Le Van Nui, 64, sells homemade soybean milk from a mobile cart in Tan Tao Ward.

Unlike many migrant street vendors, Nui is originally from Ho Chi Minh City but moved after an urban redevelopment project displaced his family.

He once called out to customers himself but now relies on a recorded announcement because of his age, although he keeps the volume low to avoid disturbing nearby residents.

"I simply advertise what I sell," Nui said. 

"If you're making a living, you have to treat people well if you want to stay in business."

He said many of his customers are manual workers buying an inexpensive cup of soybean milk before work, making product quality and hygiene especially important.

After years of building trust, Nui said many regular customers know his route and wait for him without needing to hear the loudspeaker.

Street vendors say consumer expectations have risen over the years, particularly for food safety.

"Just because our food is cheaper than restaurant food doesn't mean it should be lower quality," Vuong said. 

"If the quality isn't good enough, customers won't come back."

Near industrial parks on the city's outskirts, garment worker Ha Thi Kim has been buying Vuong's banana dessert for more than a decade.

She said hearing his familiar call is enough to remind her to stop and buy dessert for her family after work.

Tran Thi Thu Ha, who sells boiled corn from a mobile cart, said she prefers using her own voice because every vendor sounds different.

When traffic noise makes that difficult, she uses a loudspeaker while moving but switches it off once she stops to sell.

"Once people see me, they'll buy if they want to," she said. 

"There's no need to keep the speaker on and disturb everyone."