I have never worked among more professional people than I do right now.  From doctors to therapists to admininstrative people, from those who do the initial screening to those who do the medication managment, nobody does more -- even though the resources are far less.  Even so, nobody runs around like a chicken with their head cut off.  Nobody is so busy that they can't stop to chat, and nobody is so stretched thin that they are unable to be personable.  The culture of the whole delta is this way: doing the job right by seeing it through to the point of everybody's satisfaction while not appearing to be busy.  My previous cultural experience was virtually the opposite: appear to be busy in order to justify the position, salary and resources.

Here, much is being done yet the first-impressions and outward appearances would seem to say otherwise.  In my earlier experiences, little was being done yet the outward show was enormous.

Previously I had felt as though I needed to justify every one of my actions.  I had this sense that I needed to look as though I was working hard, no matter what.  If something came easily to me, or if something got done efficiently and well, I was supposed to then talk everything through with others in order to justify my having taken the 'shorter' route; thereby nullifying any time I might have gained by being efficient in the first place.  How asinine.

The culture here is not one of show, but one of substance and relationship:  do the job right and do right by the people.  Bragging and stressing doesn't help relationships, and it uses up the energy that would otherwise be put into the job.  Drop everything and fish when the run is on, or you will be hungry in the next few months.  If the birds are flying, stop and collect the eggs or they won't be found.  If the caribou are in the area, get a few -- right then and there.  Take advantage of the opportunities or they will be lost to you.

The jobs here have not historically been professional jobs, dependent upon a clock and a legal contract, but ones of rather straight-forward survival now referred to as subsistence living.  To those coming in from outside this way of thinking, it could easily look as though these people aren't in a hurry and couldn't care less.  After all, if they're able to see a Native and have the time in which to hold a conversation, that person obviously isn't gathering wood for the next season.  Hunting in the Lower 48 isn't a matter of survival: it's a sport.  Even if a family was to live solely off the land in the Lower 48 (I've never met one), they would still have the option of affordable food from a grocery store.  Not so here. 

I live in the booming metropolis of Bethel, a town that is now about 7,000 mostly Native people.  One hundred years ago there were less than one hundred people here total, while fifty years ago it had expanded to about 1,000.  Even with the population explosion there are only two grocery stores, three if you really want to be generous -- all of which are extraordinarily expensive.  People cannot feasibly afford to shop locally for their food, even still; survival remains the issue.  Bragging and stressing simply doesn't help, as everybody has to do the same things.  Being prepared to go when the moment arrives, doing it well and then enjoying time with the people afterward is what has always been important -- and still is.  The appearance of being busy is not only not valued, it is considered selfish and vain -- being busy in reality doesn't require stress; it requires action when the time is ripe followed by the reward of being prepared for the future, which means real rest can now be had.