The Foreign Service Journal, May 2013

THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | MAY 2013 77 Leah Evans is a Foreign Service spouse serving in Kyiv. F oreign Service families are travelers and wanderers and storytellers. When I first began traveling, it was to see how differ- ent cultures can be. Today, after years of traveling and living abroad, I mostly see how similar cultures can be. After arriv- ing in the strangeness of a new country, I wait for that moment when the pockets of familiarity jump out at me, and I realize that while this isn’t home, it is so much like home. I grew up in rural Ohio, on a 100-acre organic sheep and alfalfa farm in the heart of Amish country. Like many peo- ple, I found my childhood to be unique and beautiful. I expected in my travels as a Foreign Service family member to experience a new life, but I found instead echoes of my old one. Now, those forma- tive years immersed in farm culture provide a foundation for most of my new experiences. In Tbilisi, Georgia, the shepherds bring flocks of sheep to the outskirts of town to sell and butcher on the spot. A customer picks a sheep and, with an incredibly swift flick of the knife and twist of the torso, the sheep is killed, hung and cut into dinner-ready pieces. In my mind I see my Amish neighbor, Fanny, dispatching a chicken, then plucking and cutting to create a rich and savory meal on the spot. In Oaxaca, Mexico, women sing and gossip as they cook great feasts over stone stoves to serve to anyone who comes to their table. People gather in groups of two or three to talk, while bending heads low to eat rolled tortillas stuffed with beans, sour cream and avocado. In Wooster, Ohio, I stand in line dur- ing the county fair to buy fair fries and pulled-pork sandwiches, bonding with my friends and family over the foods that we identify as ours, just as such groups do all over the world. In Kars, Turkey, the call to prayer flooded the small town as I ate olives, yogurt and honey in a seedy hotel with friends. That brought back childhood memories of Amish neighbors singing hymns in their old barn, flooding the valley that is our farm with their haunt- ing melodies. After the singing, everyone would gather in clumps under shaded trees to eat pie, cakes and cookies. In Quito, Ecuador, we always took visitors to Otovalo for the craft market. Across the street, the bustling livestock market burst with sheep, cows, chickens, guinea pigs and hundreds of bartering, gossiping, wandering farmers. In Mount Hope, Ohio, the weekly livestock sale brings the same people in different clothes, comparing haunches of cows and wool on sheep. The sounds, smells and sights mirror each other from different hemispheres. In Cairo, Egypt, the driver of a wagon full of sweet green hay leans back on his load while his donkey slowly lumbers up the green strip of lush farmland. I remember sitting on top of hay bales while our neighbor Roy called to the horses pulling the hay wagon from the field to the barn. The hay, the animals and the relaxation after hours of hard physical labor all reach across miles and oceans. Of course, there are differences in social safety nets and human rights. There are differences in political corrup- tion and a sense of hope. But at the basic human level of work, play and survival, there are so very many similarities. The more I travel, the more I know I feel anew a part of the world, regardless of time and place. n The Ties That Bind BY L EAH EVANS The sounds, smells and sights of life mirror each other from different hemispheres. REFLECTIONS