One subject that has always fascinated me is the question of how everyone arrived at the place they call home doing the job that they do.
In the wild west there are many tales of settlers with a vast continent ahead of them that had the choice to "stick or twist". Find a piece of land with a good water supply and fertile land for grazing or planting, imagine the orchard that you may plant and consider the proximity or otherwise to those you love or could love. Stake your claim or move on in the hope of a better opportunity further west. Dire Straits summarise how this can develop and change over time in their song "Telegraph Road" with the dream growing or fading dependent upon perspective.
Tamara and I have been presented with similar opportunities and have lived at opposite points of the globe but have our choices been as wide as we first considered or was it really a choice between our respective hometowns?
For much of the world's population it is clear that there was very little choice of either place or occupation, at least on a grand scale, but all along the way there are macro choices that are made which do their bit to shape each life. Vietnam is a case in point. Here we have a notionally communist state yet with no sign of equality or communal care, at least on the face of it. There is no social security and so if you don't work you don't eat. So far so bad, except that we have seen no obvious example of poverty. Every step of the way you will find people that have placed their metaphorical stake in the ground in the hope of a good or perhaps better life. Some of these are obvious such as the young girl in Hoi An who assisted her mother in the design and fabrication of Tamara's dress. Asked whether this is what she would do as a career the answer was obviously "yes".
At any market it becomes more obvious. The markets and the shopping streets are grouped by "trade"; whether that trade involves selling buttons (Hang Bo Street, Hanoi) or shiny plastic hair accessories (south east corner of the old covered market, Hanoi). Each trade area is broken down to a large collection of very small and nearly identical stalls each with at least one seemingly very bored person dependent on selling enough things to feed the family yet with nothing to differentiate them from their neighbour. Success or failure here seems incredibly random.
One stood out from the rest. On a street characterised by garden ornament stalls stood one person with a cart piled with giant rubber ducks! Each the size of a basketball. This is when I knew I wanted to explore the subject further. Given the choice of any profession or commodity to sell this person had invested everything in plan A. There was no plan B in evidence; either the rubber ducks would fit a hitherto unseen niche in the market or the family would not eat well that day. What sequence of events led to that investment decision?
Our tour leader on a recent visit to Halong Bay, Tangh, made the point regularly and often that we westerners were very lucky. All any Vietnamese could hope for is to work hard consistently and provide for their family. There is no expectation of travel at any stage although television has widened the view of the world and provided a long list of places that they would LIKE to go to, New Zealand top of many people's expressed list. He conceded though that his boss was likely to be able to one day although he was still not well off and had a modest house and an old motorbike (to go with the five tourist boats and five coaches that he has a third share of). One day this investment should start to pay dividends and Tangh has realised that he will not get where he wants to without saving and investing his own money. He earns US$16 a day and works 20 days a month. This he describes as a good wage but he is looking to cut down his hours so that he can concentrate on the bike rental business that he is building up. He currently has six hire bikes at a cost of $1500 each and rents to westerners who are on short term placements in the country. Doing the maths that is a lot of saving up of a small wage and shows what is possible with ambition whilst living within your means. Tangh's medium term goal is to buy and run a small hotel and has a business plan that he will work through with his boss to come in as a partner with one other to share the load as well.
At the other end of the enterprise scale is a wonderful man named Winston who we met in a very small village one hour outside of Bario. When I first met Winston he seemed by far the most worldly man in Bario district with a cowboy hat and a first rate Hilux double-cab truck. Chatting to him though I found a deeply reflective man with a very strong connection to his family land which extends to thousands of acres. Winston, like almost all of his village, had left Bario and gone to work in a successful career in Miri (a plane flight away) and West Malaysia (a world away). The flight of the villagers was such that the only one left was the chief, Winston's grandfather, who eventually died alone on the land. Winston, who was previously separated from his wife, felt such a strong pull home that he gave up all of his life to return to his village. He farms alone and makes regular trips into Bario yet quietly says that he only feels at peace when he is back on his family land.
Asked "do you think that you will live and die here like your grandfather?" Winston doesn't hesitate in replying "yes, it is my role now". He doesn't intend to live and die alone though and has grand plans to revive the village through fish farming and community building initiatives. I feel that he will be successful.
I mentioned in a previous blog that we stayed in a longhouse in Bario, this communal living reflected in a strange way the family in Kuching who now own three of the four houses in a small cul-de-sac, their place is clear but was summarised by the father who said "in Malaysia we love to live together, you love to live apart". It is true, we love our independence but what do we miss out on as a result? I am starting to appreciate more my father's happiness to stay in the place that he has called home for all but two of his years and my sister's decision to buy the houses either side but one. I may have chosen to live on the other side of the world to them but now that that is my home I too have no wish to uproot from our lovely house and community (especially if I get to explore the world a bit too from time to time).
How about you, what was it that led you to the place you call home, doing what you do? Are you content with that or striving for more? Stick or twist?
As I say, I find the whole subject fascinating and look forward to your discussion in the comments below.
