The Great Nisqually Fault

July 2001, The Evergreen State College
A dark South Asian steps to the front desk. I can see him from my office. We are a college that embraces diversity, and yet, as state workers, we cherish our 8 to 5, our 1-hour break for lunch, and 15 minutes for cigs if you smoke. It’s ten til closing here at the college, and I feel sorry for this guy. He’s gonna get turned away.

He does, and he smiles politely and walks off. That’s what does it for me. The smile. I don’t know how some people can be so understanding as they’re being sacrificed for a system.

10:51 AM February 28, 2001 The Evergreen State College
If you are a new student, you will find the front desk of the admissions office at the Evergreen State College in the basement of the library. If you have never visited the area before, you will find it quite lovely, set among hopelessly tall cedars and firs, off the shores of the South Puget Sound.

July 2001, The Evergreen State College
I come out of my office and call for the young man. I get stares from my co-workers, most of whom do not like me. My novelty has worn off, and I make too many jokes. I’m starting to drift away from them as well.

I come out of my office and call for the young man. He turns, and I’ll be goddamned if he isn’t still smiling. He is a dark South Asian, and he steps towards me. I can see he’s a foot shorter. I am a man who embraces diversity, and yet, as a state worker, I will anger my colleagues if I stay past 5. I need a smoke.

10:52 AM February 28, 2001 The Evergreen State College
If by chance you are visiting the area for the first time and hear, or even feel a distant rumbling, don’t panic. Ft. Lewis, a United States military installation lies just to the north. My step-father once served on this post. From time to time, the artillery practice can seem much like the beginning of an earthquake.

July 2001, The Evergreen State College
His name is Bhakti, I think. He says that he is a refugee from Bhutan, and has lived in Nepal with his wife and daughter for the past several years. He has somehow managed to acquire a visa to the United States, and wants to go to college. He tells me that everyone, including the people in my office, has told him he cannot receive financial aid because he is not a citizen.

‘But you are a refugee, right? You have asylum status?’

‘Yes, but they say I cannot receive assistance.’

10:53 AM February 28, 2001 The Evergreen State College
If by chance you are visiting the area for the first time, you might wonder about the danger posed by Mt. Rainier. Yes, the volcano will eventually return to life, sending a deadly lehar down its slopes, but we are safe. In fact, the only danger we might face would be an earthquake, as we lie along the Nisqually fault. Remember, though, the safest thing for you to do in the unlikely event of a mild tremor is to take refuge underneath your desk. Think of so many polite children in schoolhouses following simple instructions. Simply wait underneath your desk until the quake passes. They only last a moment.

July 2001, The Evergreen State College
I tell him to have a seat at the table as the last of my co-workers leaves the office. I get Bhakti the applications for financial aid and admissions. I hand them to him and tell him that refugees are eligible for federal financial aid.

‘I do not have a pen.’

I hand him a pen.

I start to walk towards my office, but turn around. He is looking at the application as though he is trying to interpret a foreign government document.

‘Oh! Sorry,’ I say, and then sit down next to him. I help him complete the paperwork, and listen to his stories of a refugee camp in Nepal. He talks of a young girl who misses her father. He talks of a young woman who misses her spouse.

10:54 AM February 28, 2001 The Evergreen State College
The distant rumbling begins and I stand in my doorway, the artillery shells striking with a frequency so low I feel it in the marrow of my bones. Five seconds pass and the rumbling turns hard. The building sounds like an angry dog, growling back at the vibrations of this intruder. Ten seconds pass, and I watch my co-workers crawl underneath their desks like good boys and girls. I’m in no mood to crawl.

August 2001, The Evergreen State College
A week before I announce that I’m leaving Evergreen, I see a dark South Asian step to the front desk. We area a college that embraces students, but he is no longer a student. He is the ‘guy who’s always here to see Brandon.’ He gets flicked in my direction by someone seriously in need of her cigarette break.

He steps inside my office and shakes my hand. He smiles and sits down, but it’s different from his ever-present smile of politeness. He seems genuinely elated.

‘My wife and daughter have been granted asylum! They will be coming in a month!’

I shake his hand, and listen once more to his adventure.

After he tells it, he hands me a bag. I unfurl a kind of tapestry, a hand designed Buddha inked into the cloth. I immediately thank him, but return the gift. ‘I cannot, Bhakti. It’s against the rules.’

He hands it back to me and smiles. ‘It is not worth very much. It is nothing.’

10:55 AM February 28, 2001 The Evergreen State College
At 20 seconds, the walls shake loose of their bookshelves and photo frames of smiling husbands and wives, children and pets. At 25, the lights go out, and the library screams. The scream is punctuated by the breaking of a water main above the only entrance. Water sprays the only light, the light to exit, the light to away. At 30 seconds the first of my co-workers rushes through that water and into the light, and the races are off. An office that seems to hold only 20 people suddenly produces 60, and they’re all in full sprint, but running side to side as though against the lateral motion of a treadmill. At 35 seconds I stand at the exit and hold it open, amazed that no one has come running through the glass itself. I am passed by angry, determined eyes, eyes that have either seen their lives flashed before them, or worse, nothing. I am accidentally struck enough times by flailing arms that I am no longer convinced the blows were all by mistake. At 49 seconds, the library falls back to sleep and I walk through the office calling for any good boys and girls. One man managed to stay underneath his desk the entire time. He thanks me for waiting, not aware that once everyone had left, I too exited the building, and we walk out. I grab the first aid kit and apply a bandage to a person I see crying outside, a 50 year old woman holding a scraped knee like Tanya did when we were 13 and I knocked her off her bicycle.