A while back, when I was visiting my mother's ancestral village in Thai Binh province, North Vietnam, it occurred to me that, after a barrage of questions from distant relatives, not once did anyone ask that common question in America: 'So, what do you do?' Instead the questions were familial and personal: 'How is your mother? Do you own a car? Are you married?'
When I volunteered my profession - 'I am a journalist' - I was met with polite nods and smiles. A guaranteed conversation-starter in the US went nowhere among my mother's distant kin, who were mostly farmers. 'You know, for magazines and newspapers,' I added. 'I get to travel to many places.'
One old woman patted my cheek and said, 'Don't travel so much. You should marry and settle down.' Then, at her insistence, I went and lit incense at the graves of my great grandparents and mumbled a silent prayer while half of the village watched in approval.
The idea of work as an identity and vocation is still new in many parts of the world. Vietnam, for one, is a country where, despite recent changes towards modernity, 70 per cent of the population still lives in rural areas. Work for them is arduous and repetitive, really nothing to talk about. In fact, the Vietnamese colloquial word for work is keo cay, which literally means 'to pull the yoke'.