Arkansas

Listening to: The Times They Are a Changin'
-Bob Dylan


The first day of my journey will be spent driving to a place that I have a hard time including in my goal destinations, but it's a stop along the way, nonetheless. It's a place that I now finally admit is home.

Springdale, Arkansas is about a nine hour drive from Austin. I will probably make it in eight, to be honest. (Don't frown upon my speeding; my dad has made it in seven hours before) The drive isn't terrible, but it's not exactly pleasant. I'll pass through the flat lands of Texas, which aren't so bad, then Dallas, which could be neutral or bad depending on the traffic, and then I'll spend the latter part of the trip driving through Oklahoma, which is a giant cornfield of Sooners and other things I couldn't conceivably care less about. I know, this trip is largely about cultural appreciation. Maybe someday I'll learn to appreciate Oklahoma. Maybe. Someday.
After I escape from that eternal plot of farmland I'll pass through the Ozark Mountains which look a little like this:

Mhm, this is why they call it the Natural State. Granted, not every part of Arkansas looks like this (as you'll soon see) but hey, not every part of Chicago looks like Gotham City either.
The playlist on the way back to Arkansas varies. I can't really define eighteen years of my life with a specific genre of music, but I'll probably put on some Nickel Creek to remind me of my childhood and perhaps Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are a Changin'" to remind me why I decided that coming back to Arkansas would be a good way to start the journey.
I'll be honest, I hated growing up in Arkansas until late in my high school career, and I feel like that hatred still seeps through a little when I tell people in Texas about the place where I was raised, despite the fact that I'm well into the process of seeing Arkansas much more fondly than I used to.
Here are some facts about Arkansas that people think they know:
1.) There are hillbillies.
2.) We don't wear shoes there.
3.) We are racist and don't allow black students in their high schools.
4.) Everyone marries their cousin.
5.) Everyone has twenty-six kids with said cousin.
Now, here are a handful of facts about Northwest Arkansas that people should know:
1.) Fayetteville, Arkansas is home the the University of Arkansas. "Woo, pig sooie! Razorbacks!" Yes, them. Fayetteville is a mini-Austin without the breakfast tacos.
2.) North of Fayetteville lies Springdale, the town where I grew up and world capital of Tyson Chicken.
3.) North of Springdale is Bentonville, world capital of Walmart.
4.) Springdale is home to the second largest population of Marshall Islanders outside of the Marshall Islands.
5.) Springdale is also home to the Duggar family.

To be honest, the population of African-Americans in Springdale is notably low compared to other parts of the state, but over the past twenty or so years it has changed from a tiny chicken town to a city of roughly 70,000 people, of whom approximately 40% are Hispanic or Marshallese (the percentage is likely higher now, the most recent census I came across was in 2010). This is mostly due to the successes of Tyson, Walmart, and the addition of many of Walmart's vendors setting up new offices in the area.

So, what does all of this have to do with my journey?
I'm still at odds with the idea that I was ever in much of a community in Springdale. Aside from the nearly recession-proof economy and diversity in people that Walmart and Tyson have brought Northwest Arkansas, I'm actually not a very big fan of the giant corporations' effects on small towns, especially Walmart's. Where do people in Springdale buy groceries? Walmart. Where do they buy school supplies? Walmart. Where do they buy computers and toys and cleaning products and cookware and decorating items and just about everything else that comes to mind? Walmart. Want to know why? Because it's the only place to shop. Sure, there is a Walgreen's standing bravely across from every Walmart that is built, and yes, there is a Target and a shopping mall located nearby in Fayetteville, but Walgreen's just doesn't have everything and Target decided not to risk installing a SuperTarget in Walmart country so you can't buy food there, and the shopping mall has gone downhill due to most of its clientele migrating to the newer, prettier Promenade outdoor shopping center located in... *Drum roll* Bentonville. Home base of Walmart. There is one lone local grocery store that has maintained a deadlock in its David vs. Goliath type of battle with Walmart over the years. It's called Harps (pictured above) and, according to studies by the University of Arkansas, its success in the face of Walmart is studied by other companies trying to overcome the giant, which I actually think is pretty cool. I personally believe that the majority of Harp's success is in its Martha Harp Rolls. Pictured to the left, they are soft, decadent, buttery rolls that rise up angelically from muffin tins as they are baked. Walmart has not thus far created anything so full of love.

Speaking of love, let's get back to the reasons I am going to back Arkansas in the first place. I am saving money on this first leg of the journey by staying with my parents in Springdale, and meeting up with an important person. This is my cousin Anna. She'll be my companion on my journey 1.) Because she and I have traveled everywhere together with our parents since we were little and 2.) Because my parents

are freaked-out enough about the two of us gallivanting across the South by ourselves, let alone if I had decided to travel by myself. As you can see, Anna and I look virtually nothing alike, though we both share 1/8 Filipino heritage. She gets asked if she speaks Spanish all the time when she visits Arkansas, but ironically I think I actually speak a little more of it than she does. (She's a French major) As stated previously, Springdale's population of Hispanic residents exploded during my lifetime, so I became accustomed to attending school alongside Mexicans and El Salvadoreans and Guatemalans and being taught how to count to ten in Spanish and having the MC at all of our school functions be local hero and daytime social worker "Papa Rap", who greeted us with "QUE PASA?" (or, "WHAT'S UP?")
I never though much about it until the day in junior high when a mob of about fifty Hispanic students ran out of school randomly in the middle of the day to protest proposed harsh illegal immigration consequences, and once again when the new high school that was supposed to be built to accommodate the city's growth and development coined the phrase "WE ARE SPRINGDALE, YOU ARE MEXICO!" to berate my high school, which was suddenly described ominously as "inner-city" in comparison to the new school's student population (fed entirely by the suburbs around it, by the way).
People's eyes widen when I describe this situation to them, but let's be honest: It's the state of America, not just Arkansas. There are people everywhere like those of us in my high school who embrace the change (We cut the chant down to simply "WE ARE SPRINGDALE!") and there are those who flee to the white suburbs in fear of minorities. Strangely, the other prominent minority group in Springdale is greeted with far less hostility, though perhaps because, upon my further research (yes, I actually did have to do research on my own town to figure some things out) they actually haven't had too much of an impact on the community.
The story of the Marshall Islanders in Springdale is fairly simple. The United States used their islands as nuclear bomb test sites, and they got a free pass to live in the U.S. (I'm pretty sure they still got cheated, but that's another discussion) Springdale has ended up with the second largest population of Marshall Islanders outside of the Marshall Islands because of, again, jobs at Tyson and Walmart. Unlike Hispanic workers, though, their presence isn't very evident in the city itself. Springdale is inundated with restaurants like Acambaro (where I plan to eat dinner when I arrive in Springdale, by the way, their white cheese dip is boss) and Mexican groceries stores and tiny taquerias

and auto-shops that used to be owned by Mr. Jones, now owned by the Garcia family. The Marshall Islanders? Not so much. I tried to think back to any places in Springdale that I recall being exclusively Marshallese, but none come to mind except maybe a church, but I don't have any memory of where it is. Upon further research I realized that it's actually been a rough road for Marshallese people moving to Arkansas. Laid back, friendly and on no particular time schedule, the fast-paced growth and strict economic exchanges of the United States go against everything that the Marshallese culture is about, much like "modernization" goes against much of what the South is about. And, like many people in the general South, a large part of the Marshallese population suffer poverty. The more I think back on it, the adults who actually immigrated from the Marshall Islands keep to themselves in their own mini-community, and a lot of the kids in Springdale High School did the same, though they were friendly in conversation and their musical skills were, to be honest, insane. My friend Tony Lenidrik (the first Marshall Islander in Arkansas to make All-State Choir) was basically the Israel Kamakawiwo'ole of my choir with his ukulele and vocal chords that I think are made out of gold, there's no telling how many times that poor kid was asked to sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Yet another parallel: The thing that connects Marshall Islanders to Arkansas is one of the same things that connects the South to modernized America, and, to go a step further, the same thing that brings the chain-gang together in The Ballad of the Sad Cafe.