The Foreign Service Journal, November 2005

NOVEMBER 2005 • AFSA NEWS 9 “Nostalgia is fatiguing and destructive, it is the vice of the expatri- ate. Youmust put down roots as if theywere forever, youmust have a sense of permanence.” — Isabel Allende, Of Love and Shadows A ll of us, Americans associated with missions around the world, have chosen the expatriate’s life. Perhaps our choic- es horrify our families back home, perhaps they inspire envy, but either way, we’re out here, living a life that changesdramatically every twoor three years. We’re doingourwork in languages and cultures that are foreign tous, living inhomes wemaynever havepicked for ourselves, sleep- ing inbeds bought inbulk,meetingpeoplewe may not have otherwise known. We are diverse in looks, background, politics and states of origin, but all of our personal roads have led us here, to this transient lifestyle. Sowhat do we, expert expatriates, make of the “vice” of nostalgia? How, with the constant transition that comes with our chosen professions, do we shuck off nostalgia to maintain a sense of permanence? Or should we? Can looking back be use- ful? Nostalgia, in a sense, is home for us. Beyond the household effects that we carefully pack up and ship from post to post, the onevariable that is consistent isourmemories. Ouroverseashomes are temporary. If we didn’t let ourselves engage in nostalgia we would feel adrift — without the anchor of a personal history. Nostalgia alsogives us a senseof a greater community. Howmany times doyou say goodbye to someone at onepost only to see them againat a conference inWashington, or findout they’ve just been assigned to your new post? Being able to compare stories and trade histories is especially important to people with temporary physical roots in any one place. We need our nostalgia to bol- ster our efforts every time we move. Moving On Everyone has a similar story: Maybe you’ve lived in Nairobi for two years and loved every minute. Your house is beautiful, the garden is full of hummingbirds and banana trees, you spend yourweekends viewing big game in the national park and, to top it all off, your boss is the greatest. This, you think, iswhat Foreign Service life is all about. Then bidding season rolls around, and though you hate to leave Kenya, you know another adventure is instore for youwherever youmayendup. You’reconfident, adapt- able and ready for anything. Gettingused to your newpost inFredonia turns out tobe dif- ficult. The city is large and cold, the air filledwith factory smoke. You miss Nairobi. Maybe your sponsor takes you out for din- ner and you spend the whole evening telling stories of camping inMaasaiMara. At themarket you scoff at the produce because “themarkets were filledwithmangos and passion fruits as big as your head back in Kenya.” I suspect this is the kind of nostalgia Allende warned us about. Maybe she meant for us to keep the past, but throw ourselves into each new post with both feet, as if this were the last place we’d ever live. It’s hard to transcend the feelings of sad- ness that can come withmoving. It’s easy to compare everyaspect of this country to theone you miss. Transition is a kind of grief, and those of us who move often need to let our- selves pass through the stages of grieving in order to make peace with the present. Transitionhas five stages: Involvement (being happily settled), leaving (the physical process ofmoving), arriving (the chaotic and anxious periodof arrival), entering (being vulnerable—anewface innew place, learning the ropes) and reinvolvement (settlingback inand feeling at home). Letting nostalgia play too big a role contributes to getting stuck in the entering stage—constantly feeling like an outsider. A Fine Balance Sowe are facedwith the challenge ofmaintaining the balance betweenwelcoming the transienceof ForeignService life andcom- mitting our full selves to finding happiness in eachnewplace. It’s about leaving the office in the evenings andwalking through the neighborhood, making discoveries and connections. It’s about suspending judgment and, instead, letting experienceswashover you. After all, this is the adventure; the daily minutia of watch- ing awholenewcountry andcultureunfoldbefore youandknow- ing that, for the time you’re given, you’re a part of it. It’s a life that can be hard. It’s hard to say goodbye, to leave houses and people and places that you loved, but the silver lin- ing is that it’s also a never-ending source of potential joy. Every place you go will offer you some kind of gift if you are willing to put yourself out there, let yourself relax and find it. It’s your role to enjoy every place you go while you can, set your roots down for awhile, live as if youwere never leaving. This is the talent that this special life calls for: being permanently impermanent. And enjoying the ride. r Adrienne Benson Scherger grew up in four African countries with a USAID father. A freelance writer, she is currently serving as the CLO in Tirana, where her husband is administrative officer for the Peace Corps. FS VOICE: FAMILY MEMBER MATTERS n BY ADRIENNE BENSON SCHERGER Permanent Impermanence: Finding a Foothold in the Foreign Service It’s hard to transcend the feelings of sadness that can come with moving. It’s easy to compare every aspect of this country to the one you miss.