Always Greener Somewhere Else

Every year in Tanzania the Great Serengeti migration occurs with seasonal regularity on a scale unmatched anywhere else. Over a million wildebeest accompanied by several other species of grazing animals participate in this almost circular pattern of migration with clockwork regularity. They go north in May and come back down south in September, then repeat the 1800 (2900 km) mile yearly trek according to the rainy seasons. It is the rain first then an explosion of vegetation - primarily green succulent grass – that regulates the migratory calendar. It is a story of survival that had gone on for hundreds, if not thousands of years, where the main characters are the wildebeest.  Zebras, gazelles, etc. are the supporting casts. If we must inject villains into the drama, we have crocodiles, lions and hyenas to fill the roles. This is purely for dramatic effect and certainly not an indictment on the predators, whose roles are just as important towards a healthy and sustainable ecosystem. The wildebeests manage their journey at a cost of sacrificing about 10,000 of their kind to the altar of survival every crossing. In the process, crocodiles survive on food intake that occurs only twice a year as the rivers are crossed by the migrants coming and going. Imagine having a meal bi-annually to survive. Lions and hyenas and other minor players do not enjoy an easy life either. Weather patterns would sometimes sketch erratic patterns of drought, ill-timed arrival of rain that disturbs even slightly the migratory calendar that threatens their own survival. The yearly drama is harsh and only the strong and the well-equipped survive. The wildebeest is the prime mover because it is in their DNA, the strength of their instincts, to go because it is always greener somewhere else.

That was exhausting trying to put together a whole paragraph as segue to the conversation on our human yearning, metaphorically speaking, for a place that seems to always evoke a greener landscape.  At least, greener than where we find ourselves today, despite the fact that we truly do not know what greener or greenest really is.

Years ago I was driving the car with several co-workers to go to lunch. Typical in city driving we went through several traffic lights. In one of those stops I didn’t realize the light had changed already. In the few intervening seconds, the co-worker sitting in the front passenger seat, in her mild Midwestern voice said, “You know that light is not going to get any greener”, a teasing jab for me to go step on it already.  That was a funny episode I had to tell because at that time I had been in the country only a couple of years and American humor was something I needed to understand and get used to. It was something I was expected to use in the new culture.

It turned out, in a similar way, I was supposed to recognize that society expects us not only to see what is green, where it is, and when it is no longer going to get any greener at one place we are to move on to the next intersection.  We will find, of course, that there are more intersections to cross. But must we always look for where it could be greener?

Like the wildebeest, it must be in our DNA as well, to recognize the place or places where it might be greener. Often, we are merely told and made to believe that it is always greener somewhere else.

How would one answer if he or she were asked, “Given the chance, would you like to live or be at a better place than where you are now?” Often, the first reaction is, “It depends.” Isn’t it?

Well, perhaps for some, such as those who had hit rock bottom, another place might just be perceived a better alternative with very little thinking involved. Then there are those who had always lived at rock bottom. If, as a child, someone grew up in the slums of Rio de Janeiro, Calcutta, or the poorest town in Eastern Romania, any place away from there will be a step up without even realizing how many steps down that someone had been living in. These folks are faced with very little options. Their story is not likely the story of many; at least, we hope so because otherwise the world is in worst shape than we are imagining.

On the other hand, what if that someone already lives in a place many rungs above the global living standard? It may not matter at all because, based on the dictates of human nature, most will likely opt for anything better than where they already are, regardless of the level of their location in the social ladder. The more pointed question perhaps is, “Is there ever a point when someone will say he or she asks for no more because they have reached the absolute zenith of everything?”

Let’s use ice skating terminology here because often the dangers in life are when folks find themselves skating on thin ice in their desperate quest to reach the greenest of green pastures. For the most part the stories told by many are not out of desperation but of meeting challenges with moderate degrees of difficulty. Speaking of degrees of difficulty, many might just go for the double toe loop, the Salchow or the Lutz, then maybe a single or double axel. Only the elite attempt the triple axel and no one, male or female, has done a quadruple one, not yet anyhow. [Axel Paulson was a Norwegian skater in the 19^th century who started all that forward jumping from off the outside edge of his skates].

The story I tell is in the category of a double toe loop, a somewhat above average jump. It was a jump nevertheless, and across a river halfway to the other side of the world. My wife while still single, energetic and fueled by a sense of adventure, applied for immigration to come to the U.S. She was among the multitude of wildebeest from many lands around the world who dreamed to see and live in a greener pasture called America. It was approved in a year but the migration was scuttled temporarily because she met me. We got married a couple of years later and had two children. Her dream for that pasture was shelved somewhere temporarily. About ten years later after her initial application, the U.S. Embassy wrote, giving her one last opportunity to immigrate, or lose it forever. We have now become a family of four wildebeests.

Many things had changed but my wife’s instincts for that pasture somewhere were still very much intact and she saw that it was not going to get much greener where we were.  I, on the other hand, was more concerned about the perils of crossing that river, the crocodiles that were waiting and the fear of the journey to the unknown was compelling. It was a daunting decision and I was holding out but the Embassy official who interviewed us provided the proverbial nudge that would change our lives. And not to be diminished was a U.S. Airline that offered us tickets for four on credit, on a promotional program (then) designed for immigrants only, with a catchy slogan, “Fly Now, Pay Later”. That was analogous to the kind of push all wildebeests get just before jumping into that river. But once we took the first step, there was no looking back.  We needed to and found work, paid for the tickets as soon as we could, and the rest is history.

Did we find the greener pasture? What we found was a land of many diverse pastures. The wildebeest family came and elected to stay.

How do I answer the question I posed earlier? America is a zenith of sort, not a perfect one, but close enough for us to go no further in search of the absolute green pasture, even if it seems that it is always greener somewhere else.