Leaving My Assignment in Virginia

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Well folks, it seems that it’s almost time to leave my assignment here in far off Virginia. I’ll admit that I didn’t know what to expect when I was first stationed here, but I’ve learned so much from the local people that I will forever be a changed person. While there was a lot to adjust to at first; a strange and bewildering people with bizarre customs, a new climate, new foods and experiences, and especially the language; it’s the little stories that will stay with me.

For example, when I woke up this morning in my small, wooden group-home, it was much darker than usual. But, I’m skipping ahead. I went to the area we use as a kitchen, fought off the ants (one thing I won’t miss is the pervasive wild fauna), and cobbled together a breakfast of leftovers. The people here are very good about using every part of their food. It’s something we should learn from them. Anyway, today’s breakfast included some “potato rolls” leftover from a recent community celebration in honor of John attaining one more year of age. The people at the event kept insisting that these hunks of bread were “potato” rolls, though I don’t know why.

As I was getting ready to go out for the day on my bicycle, one of the housemates tried to warn me about the clouds and the darkness outside. “Big rain come. Come rain soon.”

I’ll say this for the locals here in Virginia; they are just so in tune with their natural surroundings. They always seem to complain that the next bus or train will be a few minutes late, and you know what? They’re usually right! I’ve even seen car drivers sitting at red lights and they start moving forward just a second or so before the light changes even if there are people in the way. It’s like they just know.

The storm passed a few minutes later and I was off on my bike down what the locals call “Four Mile Run Trail”. For you readers, I should explain that sometimes the locals use “run” for what we would call a “stream”. This gets even more confusing when you see all of the people from the community out running on the trail, but I’ve been told that is incidental. Also, the phrase “Four Mile” has nothing to do with actual distance. It looks like the Virginians just use the number four to denote “many”.

The trail was beautiful as always, though hot and humid, in keeping with this tropical climate. The green trees reaching skyward and rampant bamboo really give you a sense of peace that you can’t always find in the more cultivated places we’re all used to. Today, though, the stream or “run” was anything but calm, having filled with rain water. A few of the small concrete bridges on the parallel trail across the stream were overrun with rushing water. Fortunately, the Virginians thought to build a separate, higher trail on my side of the stream. Something we could learn from these people is that efficiency has its price and though it may seem backwards to us, a little duplication can really come in handy when living in a hostile environment like this. You may remember my post about how some single individuals spend their money maintaining TWO cars. While anthropologists may tell you that this unnecessary and ostentatious display is probably intended to attract mates, I think it’s just a part of the native wisdom that’s been passed down through the community here.

I changed into a more appropriate costume for work, which is something I think I’ve mentioned before. The people here have an elaborate system of dress with lots of subtle and unspoken rules depending on station and environment. Currently, I’m expected to wear clothes classified as “business casual” though they are really ineffective for either type of activity. I think I’ve mentioned the “jeans” before. I’ve gathered that it’s taboo to wear these in a work environment, but they are almost required in more social occasions. I’ve even seen locals wear business clothes until the early evening when they then trade in their black or blue slacks for black or blue “jeans”. The shirts and shoes often remain the same. I can only guess that the whole ritual has something to do with the setting of the sun and the perceived dangers of oncoming darkness.

Winter clothing often includes black or navy blue jackets, which is rather striking when you see so many people crammed together all wearing the same thing. I think it must be a form of Northern Virginian camouflage passed down through the generations. Kind of like how zebras huddle together to confuse predators, a flock of Virginians can seem like one ominous organism when you see a few dozen of them with matching pea coats all reading the “Express” with their heads down.

For those of you who haven’t tried to carry on a conversation in Northern Virginia, especially in a work setting, I’ll warn you, it is fraught with peril. First, remember to just keeping talking as fast as you can and interject your opinions at every gap in the conversation. Don’t worry about being asked for your opinions on politics or sports. I think the locals are just too shy to ask. They just seem to throw them out at each other to avoid any embarrassment by the other person. It’s okay to bring in outside wisdom and you can even cite your sources, but be careful not to cite any news over two weeks old. It seems that political discussion here avoids any information over 14 days old as that is associated with death or possibly ancient spirits best left unperturbed.

After another day’s work, I pedaled home again and this time the rain caught me, but this misfortune turned out to be a chance at one of those cross-cultural experiences they tell you about. When the rain started, I parked under a community picnic shelter along with two others. That’s one thing I’ll miss about this place; the pace of life. The locals and I just took shelter, waited, and chatted. I’ve said it before, but the people here are just so laid back and friendly! I hope the tourists never get here and ruin it. Anyway, I spent the storm talking to this local woman who kept on looking at some of the drains nearby. She told me she was a “drainage engineer” which I guess is the person who keeps the communities received knowledge on irrigation. She bid me well (so friendly) and we were off.

When I finally got to my little group-house, I wasn’t surprised to see that a few guests were present in addition to my host-couple where there. It’s common in Northern Virginia for young adults to gather after work like this. Some people claim that this behavior is precisely what’s holding back the area’s economic development, but it seems to be an important and accepted social behavior in this community. I like to think the community has really come to accept me and today just confirmed that feeling. As I entered the house, there was the usual chorus of friendly exclamations followed by a few comments of heartfelt concern. “Hallo”, they said, and “Aye Dan”. “Dan” is what some of the locals call me. I think the diphthong at the end of the name “Daniel” is just too difficult for these people. Then, the one they call “Shea” started asking about the rain. “Big storm come, yes? You no wet-wet?”

I was able to assure him that I was okay and everyone was happy again; such a lovely, carefree people. I understand that some of them are going to throw an “ouse pah-tay” before I go, which is a ritual I’ve come to appreciate. If you ever get to attend one, don’t be pressured into drinking more than a sample of the offered “skippy”. I take it that it’s very important to the local culture, but like many things about Virginia, it’s crude, loveable, but abrasive nature will just make you miss civilization.


- Daniel