Welcome to Field Work
Welcome to field work is a phrase that Jeremy has enjoyed repeating to me over and over again over the past three days, and it resonated in my mind today as I walked around a few different localities in Kampala to truly soak and poke.
A few immediate observations from the past three days.
First, I am amazed at how tirelessly the children recite their mzungu chant when we walk by. They run up to us, wave, cry out either "Bye muzungu" or "How are you", and explode in laughter when we wave or smile or greet back at them. We chatted with one of our local enumerators today about the fascination with that word, mzungu - or rather, with that concept. I originally thought it meant white person, but Alex our enumerator told us it actually originally meant British person. It is now used for any white person who happens to walk by, but it was originally directed at the British colonizers. Kinda like the Mexicans' "gringo" appellation. But the children never tire and are so easily amused. At the very least, I'm glad I was able to provide that kind of distraction. Let's face it, we probably do look weird and out of place with our North Face gear, our pale or red skin, and our sweat:
"Among these palm trees and vine, in this bush and jungle, the white man is a sort of
outlandish and unseemly intruder" (Kapuscinski, The Shadow of the Sun).
Yes. Outlandish and unseemly: that pretty much captures how I felt today. Alex and I were dropped in the middle of a Kampalan locality to get a feel for some of the socio-economic variation among the different local council areas within the city of Kampala; a lot of this soaking and poking stuff entails getting lost and finding your way again, and that was no problem seeing that we got all sorts of contradicting directions from various locals and we had no real road signs or maps to rely on. I guess we're going to learn to rely on landmarks more than anything; the gas station; the green roof church; the hospital. I hear they do that in some parts of the U.S. too. The variation is pretty striking between local council areas but also within. Gated stucco houses with red rooftops sit next door to mudwall shacks.
Second,I found where all the other mzungus hang out! They all hide away behind the gates of the Speke Resort, where local Ugandans serve beer and diet coke (can't find diet coke anywhere else) to all sorts of white Europeans tanning in lounging chairs by the side of an Olympic size pool. I was looking for a pool, and ended up having to face my feelings of discomfort with this picture.The resort, by the way, is owned and operated by none other than one of Uganda's very own economically successful ethnic minorities. I'll let you guess what I'm referring to.
Third, African nightlife is another interesting field work adventure. One strip of bars curiously reminds me of Adams Morgan in D.C.; East African beer isn't too bad, though it doesn't compare to South African beer; there are many many black Ugandan prostitutes with old white European men; and we manage to discuss academia and the job market in the midst of it all. Academics are curious, curious little beings.
Fourth, our cook tried to convert me this morning; he asked me to come to Church with him after I told him I was Jewish (he kept pestering me about why I wouldn't eat the pork he prepared), and he was truly shocked to find out I did not believe in good ol' J.C.
The work is going well; I have already learned so much in three days, namely what soaking and poking feels like in a concrete sense, the debates and discussions that are carried on endlessly on research design and data collection/analysis, the logistics of data gathering, the sensitivities of field research in another country and another culture. I am so very lucky to have this opportunity. The professors, or as I've started to call them, the et al's, are also milking Alex and me as much as possible; but the process overall is one hell of a learning experience for a second year grad student.
There is, of course, the more unsettling point of reflection at the end of the day when I get home, dirty, dusty and sweaty, and jump in the shower to wash it all off. Welcome to field work indeed. I think it comes with somewhat of a guilty conscience.
A few immediate observations from the past three days.
First, I am amazed at how tirelessly the children recite their mzungu chant when we walk by. They run up to us, wave, cry out either "Bye muzungu" or "How are you", and explode in laughter when we wave or smile or greet back at them. We chatted with one of our local enumerators today about the fascination with that word, mzungu - or rather, with that concept. I originally thought it meant white person, but Alex our enumerator told us it actually originally meant British person. It is now used for any white person who happens to walk by, but it was originally directed at the British colonizers. Kinda like the Mexicans' "gringo" appellation. But the children never tire and are so easily amused. At the very least, I'm glad I was able to provide that kind of distraction. Let's face it, we probably do look weird and out of place with our North Face gear, our pale or red skin, and our sweat:
"Among these palm trees and vine, in this bush and jungle, the white man is a sort of
outlandish and unseemly intruder" (Kapuscinski, The Shadow of the Sun).
Yes. Outlandish and unseemly: that pretty much captures how I felt today. Alex and I were dropped in the middle of a Kampalan locality to get a feel for some of the socio-economic variation among the different local council areas within the city of Kampala; a lot of this soaking and poking stuff entails getting lost and finding your way again, and that was no problem seeing that we got all sorts of contradicting directions from various locals and we had no real road signs or maps to rely on. I guess we're going to learn to rely on landmarks more than anything; the gas station; the green roof church; the hospital. I hear they do that in some parts of the U.S. too. The variation is pretty striking between local council areas but also within. Gated stucco houses with red rooftops sit next door to mudwall shacks.
Second,I found where all the other mzungus hang out! They all hide away behind the gates of the Speke Resort, where local Ugandans serve beer and diet coke (can't find diet coke anywhere else) to all sorts of white Europeans tanning in lounging chairs by the side of an Olympic size pool. I was looking for a pool, and ended up having to face my feelings of discomfort with this picture.The resort, by the way, is owned and operated by none other than one of Uganda's very own economically successful ethnic minorities. I'll let you guess what I'm referring to.
Third, African nightlife is another interesting field work adventure. One strip of bars curiously reminds me of Adams Morgan in D.C.; East African beer isn't too bad, though it doesn't compare to South African beer; there are many many black Ugandan prostitutes with old white European men; and we manage to discuss academia and the job market in the midst of it all. Academics are curious, curious little beings.
Fourth, our cook tried to convert me this morning; he asked me to come to Church with him after I told him I was Jewish (he kept pestering me about why I wouldn't eat the pork he prepared), and he was truly shocked to find out I did not believe in good ol' J.C.
The work is going well; I have already learned so much in three days, namely what soaking and poking feels like in a concrete sense, the debates and discussions that are carried on endlessly on research design and data collection/analysis, the logistics of data gathering, the sensitivities of field research in another country and another culture. I am so very lucky to have this opportunity. The professors, or as I've started to call them, the et al's, are also milking Alex and me as much as possible; but the process overall is one hell of a learning experience for a second year grad student.
There is, of course, the more unsettling point of reflection at the end of the day when I get home, dirty, dusty and sweaty, and jump in the shower to wash it all off. Welcome to field work indeed. I think it comes with somewhat of a guilty conscience.
posted by cla at 5:32 PM
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