Unyanserte Fairtradeløfter, unyansert Fairtradekritikk

Det følgende ble skrevet som et debattinnlegg på dagbladet.no (reaksjon på dette og dette) men ble antagelg alt for langt til at noen orket lese det og druknet dermed raskt i mengden. Derfor legger jeg det ut her og håper en eller to til får det med seg.

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La meg først gjøre det klar at jeg ikke har sett Erling Borgens siste og mye omtalte dokumentar da jeg befinner meg i utlandet. Årsaken til det er at jeg er i gang med et doktorgradsprosjekt om bananproduksjon på St. Vincent i Karibia. Her er implementeringen av Fairtradekriterier i produksjonen et av aspektene jeg forsker på. Jeg kan legge til at jeg fra tidligere feltarbeid har god kjennskap til srilankiske teplantasjer, om enn ikke Fairtradesertifiserte plantasjer. Jeg vet godt hvor kummerlige forhold folk lever under på disse plantasjene og hvor mye det er å ta tak i. Jeg vet også godt hvordan majoriteten av arbeiderne på disse plantasjene (høylandstamiler, også kalt tetamiler i Norge) har vært systematisk diskriminert av den srilankiske staten, men det er en annen historie.

Jeg kan altså ikke uttale meg om Borgens dokumentar eller om Fairtradesertifiserte teplantasjer, men jeg vil si noe om det jeg oppfatter som et generelt problem i kritikk av Fairtrade, nemlig at den har en tendens til å bli unyansert og sensasjonspreget.

En del av problemet ligger i forventningene som skapes av markedsførerne av Fairtrade. Besøker man ulike nasjonale og internasjonale Fairtradesider på nett (f.eks. www.maxhavelaar.no, www.fairtrade.org.uk og www.fairtrade.net) kan man lese om produsenter som har løftet seg selv ut av den ytterste fattigdom gjennom Fairtrade – produsenter som har fått sjansen til å skape nye liv for seg selv og sine nærmeste. De ser lykkelige ut. Akkurat som kritikerne av Fairtrade, gjør heller ikke markedsførerne mye for å nyansere. Og selv om suksesshistorier helt klart finnes vil jeg gjette at en betydelig andel Fairtradeprodusenter ikke føler et drastisk løft i sin livskvalitet. Det kan det være mange grunner til.

Det hadde ikke vært vanskelig å lage en TV-dokumentar eller avisartikkel som slakter Fairtradeproduksjon av bananer i Karibia dersom man skulle ønske det. Faktisk er det en god mulighet for at en stor andel av et tilfeldig utvalg bananbønder her på St. Vincent, mer eller mindre uoppfordret vil kritisere Fairtrade. Hvorfor?

Til en viss grad er det et PR-problem og kunnskapsproblem – mange bananbønder vet rett og slett ikke hva Fairtrade gjør for dem. Dette fordi det foregår mye arbeid i kulissene opp mot andre beslutningstagere. Fairtrade har gått i bresjen for å restrukturere øyas bananindustri på en måte som vil gi bøndene mer innflytelse, men møter motstand hos aktører, deriblant politikere, som er redd for å miste makt og inntektsgrunnlag. Samtidig har ikke den lokale Fairtradeorganisasjonen lyktes godt nok i å opplyse bøndene om de sosiale prosjektene de har intiert.

Til en viss grad handler det om at bøndene ikke verdsetter mulighetene Fairtrade har skapt for dem. På St. Vincent har Fairtrade opprettet sosiale sikkerhetsnett i form av pensjonsfond og helseplan for sine medlemmer, men oppslutningen er lunken blant bønder som helst vil ha den sosiale bonusen "cash in hand". Utfordringen ligger i å dra i gang sosiale prosjekter som Fairtradeprodusentene selv umiddelbart anerkjenner verdien i.

Til en viss grad handler det om små markedsandeler og store forventninger fra bøndenes side. Også på St. Vincent har den lokale Fairtradeorganisasjonen skapt store forventninger om hva de kan få til, det for å få med seg bøndene på laget. Det fungerte bra, bøndene sluttet seg til og jobbet med å implementere Fairtradekriteriene. Men parallelt med dette har det dukket opp andre utfordringer i produksjonsprosessen, i form av krav til GlobalGAP-sertifisering (www.globalgap.org) og krav fra spesifikke europeiske oppkjøpere. Problemer med å tilfresstille den type krav har gjort at et stort antall bønder har mistet retten til å eksportere bananer. Da har det lite å si at de er Fairtradesertifiserte. Frafallet av bønder gir synkende eksport nasjonalt og det har resultert i mindre Fairtradepenger kommer de gjenværende bøndene til gode. Kort oppsummert: Fairtrade sitter igjen med mindre gjennomslagkraft pga krav rettet mot bøndene fra andre aktører. (Det kan legges til at noen bananbønder ikke vet å skille Fairtradekriterier fra andre kriterier og har en tendens til å gi Fairtrade skylda for alt som går galt. I virkeligheten jobber Fairtradeorganisasjonen på St. Vincent aktivt for å hjelpe bøndene med å oppnå GlobalGAP-sertifisering).

Dette siste punktet mistenker jeg å være et problem som gjelder Fairtradeprodusenter andre steder også. Små markedsandeler betyr liten gjennomslagskraft. Men som forbruker må man skjønne at ting i alle fall ikke blir bedre av å la være å kjøpe Fairtrade. Det blir som å tro at det kan bli mer SV-politikk i regjering av å slutte å stemme SV.

Fairtrade på St. Vincent har altså sine problemer å stri med, og slik er det ganske sikkert med Fairtrade andre steder også. Målt opp mot tildels urealistiske forventninger skapt av Fairtrades markedsførere kan tilkortkommenhetene reflektere dårlig tilbake på Fairtradesystemet. Jeg tror det er viktig å være ælig med forbrukerne. Fairtrade er ikke ”Løsningen”. Faitrade er ikke tryllestaven som nærmest magisk og omkostningsløst kan mane fram harmoniske og rettferdige handelsrelasjoner mellom Nord og Sør. Ingen skal innbille seg det.

Fairtradesystemet er ikke feilfritt og det er viktig at kritiske røster kommer med konstruktive innspill i forhold til hvordan det kan gjøres bedre. Og det er viktig at Fairtradeapparatet er åpent for slike innspill. I Norge er vi heldige som har Ragnhild Hammer i vår nasjonale Fairtradeorganisasjon. Hun har den egenskapen.

Men om ikke Fairtrade er ”Løsningen” så er det ganske sikkert at vi ved å kjøpe Fairtrademerkede produkter kan gjøre mye bra for marginaliserte produsenter, samtidig som vi jobber med å fjerne verdens strukturelle skjevheter. Det går an å ha to tanker i hodet samtidig.

Når man snakker med folk her på St. Vincent er det én ting nærmest ingen benekter og det er at uten Fairtrade hadde det vært slutt på bananeksporten til Europa for lenge siden. Men om du vil lage en kritisk dokumentar utelater du selvfølgelig den biten.

I'm growing bananas!

That's right, a lame play with words: "growing" not "going". I am guessing it makes me the only Norwegian banana farmer, but do tell me if you know of others.

I've been meaning to tell you about this for a while, but you know how it is. Stuff happens and then more stuff happens and then the updates you intend to write become outdated before they're even written. But that's ok. I guess I'll give you a run-down on the progress of the field work over the last month or so.

I have spent a fair bit of time watching Gideon (head of the Mespo Fairtrade group) and his two hired workers (nicknamed Bush and Bushy (really!)), go about their business in the fields. Pruning, deflowering, tagging, detrashing, propping, desuckering, planting, harvesting, washing, boxing etc. etc. I've been watching them work their asses off while going at them with questions about what they're doing as well as questions about the industry more generally. That is, Gideon has been the target for most of my curiosity seeing as he 1) speaks an English I have no difficulties understanding and 2) seems willing to put up with me for hours on end. He's been a tremendous resource.

I had, however, been hoping for a more "hands on approach" because I believe in learning by doing, but also as I want to help out - to give something in return for what I'm getting. The problem, of course, is that I would need training which I guess would make me even more of a burden. So I've been helping out with the kind of stuff that demands little in terms of brains or experience, that is carrying banana suckers during planting of new areas, cutting down old and withered leaves with a machete, or bagging bananas during harvest. Yet most of the time, I am just tagging along with a camera.

One day, though, Gideon surprised me by suggesting I could plant and be in charge of a small section of the field. About 20 plants or so. I loved the idea. He said he would have Bushy dig the holes, but I said that if it was going to be my section then I would have to dig the holes my self. When the day came Gideon helped me measure up the field and mark the holes, then dug a hole about one meter deep, to show me how it's done. He handed over the scoop, a narrow-snouted shovel, and I went at it. Two holes later I was dizzy, soaked in sweat, had a blistering headache, and felt like lying down to sleep. I slowed down, drank large amounts of water between each hole and was able to get seven more holes dug that day. Coming home I had a fairly large, burst blister in my right hand to show for it and my respect for the physicality of banana farming was at a new level. A bonus: the blister has, I believe, as a proof of my willingness to participate in the work, gained me some respect with the farmers. While they make friendly jeers, I sense approval.


I returned to Gideons farm a few days later to finish up digging, and with a much improved technique, this time it went better. Since then I have planted suckers - Gideon and I combed the fields for the best ones, which I then carried back to my section before I dipped their roots in insectide, popped them in their holes and packed soil around. I have also been back to apply fertilizer, but now there's not much to be done for a while, except for watching them grow. Gideon says the plants are looking good, and I trust he knows what he's talking about. The best part of this project is that the fruit should be ready for harvest before we leave the island. That is, barring extreme weather and disease.

Being able to visit Gideon is great, but I think it is a problem that I haven't been able observe that many other farmers while their working, and from what I understand farmers don't necessarily agree on all points about how to run a farm (no big surprise really, although a lot is being attempted standardized through schemes such as GlobalGAP). I've been pondering how to gain access to more people, and how to strike a balance between depth and breadth in my enquiries. Although I still believe I need to visit Gideon and a handful of others for the in depth understanding of practices and issues regarding conformance to standards, I am now thinking that I will spend a good deal of time with extension officers to get bigger picture.

Extension officers (or banana development officers as their officially called) are people on the payroll either of the Ministry of Agriculture or the St. Vincent Banana Growers' Association (SVBGA), whos task it is to fascilitate farmers mainly with the technical aspects of their work. These days a major concern is helping the farmers becoming GlobalGAP compliant and the extension officers therefore, know the demands of GlobalGAP as well as anyone. By tagging along with them I will be able to meet farmers all over the island and understand better their shared as well as unique concerns.

I made a couple of trips with some of them last week as they were preparing farmers for upcoming GlobalGAP audits. As it is, the Vincentian banana industry is being audited for GlobalGAP compliance by National Britannia right now, starting yesterday and lasting until November 7th. A number of farmers have been chosen for audits by NB, but have been alerted ahead of time so that the extension officers are able to focus their efforts on these chosen ones. I am hoping the NB auditors will allow me to observe a few of the audits and let me interview them afterwards, although I have heard they are kind of restrictive about letting people up close. I have made my case and have little to do now except wait for the go-ahead. Fingers crossed.

Of our very un-Vincentian, and now one year old rash-battling daughter

As some of you have guessed - in the case of lacking blog updates no news really is good news. At least partly. I've been busy. Too busy to bother with the blog. But the last few weeks we have also been worrying about Ella and paid 6 visits to doctors. I'll give you an update on the fieldwork soon, but I need to write about Ella first, she is after all much more important than the fieldwork.

About four weeks ago we noticed a rash on Ella's left forearm. Figuring it was eczema, something I was bothered with a lot when I was younger, we didn't think too much of it. When it only got worse, however, we headed over to the health center here in Mespo, where a nurse advised us to see a doctor. She gave us a referral to the one at the Richland Park clinic (there is no resident doctor in Mespo) and we went to see him the next day. Richland Park is, according to one of my informants, the largest village on the island, and the home of about 2000 of the 8000 residents in the Marriaqua valley. It seemed as if a fair number of them were at the clinic that day and we braced ourselves as we entered the waiting room, yet we didn't have to wait for long. The flip side of that coin was that the doctor - a Cuban man I believe, didn't see us for long either. He asked a couple of questions, inspected Ella briefly, gave us a prescription for hydrocortisone cream and we were on our way out.

We used the cream for a few days but saw no sign of improvement so Silje took Ella to the health center in Mespo again and this time there was a doctor present at the clinic there. He gave us a new prescription, for Fucidin, and we used that for a couple of days, still seeing no sign of improvement. On the contrary, the rash seemed to be spreading to her shoulder, chest and right arm. Remembering stories of agressive flesh-eating bacteria, we went to see the Mespo doctor again and had to wait for nearly three hours only to get a referral to a third doctor - a pediatrician and a dear friend of his. Dr. Datta is a small, Indian lady, working at a private clinic in Kingstown. She was very thorough, asking for a lot of background information, before carefully studying the rashes and giving Ella a prescription for systemic antibiotics as well as an anti-fungal liquid. (Happily, Ella loved the medicines and would look at us with anticipation when we went to get them in the fridge).

Yet, when after 36 hours Datta's medicines still did not seem to have an effect we began to freak out just a tiny bit. After all, these were some nasty looking rashes. We freaked out enough, anyway, that I called my cousin Eline in Norway- a doctor educated in Australia who has served with Médecins sans Frontières, working with malnourished children in Burkina Faso. Although it was hard for her to do a diagnosis based on what I told her and the pictures I e-mailed, what she said made us feel more confident that Datta had all bases covered. And sure enough, the next day the rashes began to fade and by the end of the cure they were all gone. Datta gave us the thumbs up on the follow-up appointment.


A digression: the phrase "un-Vincentian daughter" used in the title is a reference, among other things, to Ella's waiting room behavior. Vincentian kids are extremely well behaved in settings such as these. That is, they tend to sit still in a lap, however long it takes. Ella, on the other hand, is a whirlwind. She is here, there and everywhere, doing all those things Vincentian kids get raps on their fingers for, like picking up pebbles and rocks and sitting down in the dirt (the waiting room in Mespo is actually outside). Vincentian mothers, on their part, are not afraid to reprimand us, or more likely Silje, sternly when Ella is doing something along this line. "Dirty, dirty, dirty", they will say, or "Baby hands dirty!". And to digress even more, they are also very concerned about not letting their children get wet. At the slightest sign of rain they will seek shelter. We, on the other hand are, in their eyes, clearly not sufficiently concerned about avoiding rain. "The baby mustn't get wet!", they will say. Or "Get the baby out of the rain!".

Back to irritated skin. For a week or so, Ella seemed to be all fine again, but then, after a visit to the beach on her birthday (wohoo!!), we noted a new angry-looking rash, this time on her private parts. We paid Dr. Datta another visit today and she needed only a glance to establish that we, as expected were dealing with a fungal infection. So Ella is back on medicines, which for her at any rate is a treat, and we are wondering whether we should stay clear of the beach - one of the few places of recreation we have.


To round things off, Ella Leona's birthday, despite of the fungal aftermath, was a happy day. I took the day off and we paid a visit to the botanical garden in Kingstown before heading to the beach. We had dinner at the French Verandah, a semi-classy and touristy place in Villa, before buying a cake at a bakery which we took home and adorned with candles and Norwegian flags, (sent us from Ella's grandparents in Asker) and letting Ella lose on it. Aparently she likes chocolate cake. Today she pointed enthusiastically at the cakes in the counter at the supermarket.

Floating along

Back when I worked for EF High School Year, interviewing and screening 15 and 16 year olds who applied to be exchange students, I used to draw them a diagram looking somewhat like this:

It was supposed to demonstrate the mood swings one is likely to experience throughout the exchange year. First is what we called "the honeymoon" where everything is fun and like a holiday, but this is usually followed by an experience of culture shock and home sickness. We would tell the kids that with the right attitude and some endurance there would be better times again - this is ideally where they will start to feel at home in the community, they are no longer "news" to the local students and life has gained a sense of normalcy. Another downturn usually follows at Christmas, but then things pick up again and with the new year comes integration on another level. And then, alas, spring arrives and it is about time to go home, and most exchange students will feel ambivalent or conflicted about that.

I felt this diagram applied well to my own experience as an exchange student in Texas in 95/96. I am not sure how well it depicts my experiences as an anthropologist, although in a sense the goal of both experiences is the same: to understand and become part of another way of life. The fundamental difference, of course, is that the anthropologist has to be much more methodical in his attempts at integration (a paradox?) and then in turn relate this experience to a wider debate within the discipline, and hopefully add something of value to that debate. I have written about this before, but the consequences of this ultimate goal in terms of the need to document daily activities (writing field notes, taping conversations, filming and photographing etc. etc.) in a sense works to distance the anthropologist from the community of which he wants to be part. We are professional assimilators and professional outsiders at the same time. Schizophrenic, indeed. I guess that what I'm getting at is that this double way of being makes for two different sets of waves: 1) personal well-being and 2) progression of fieldwork. Throw into the mix a third dimension which is the well-being of ones family and the result is a more erratic looking set of waves - the composite of the three dimensions, which I suppose would look more like this:

These three dimensions are, of course, largelly, though not completely, functions of one another. The question "how are you doing" will necessarily involve tapping into all three dimension. So how am I doing? If baseline is zero and the waves can go from -5 to 5, right now I would say zero (the composite of one on "dimension 1", two on "dimension 2" and a negative three on "dimension 3"). The biggest drag at the moment is that the days can get very lonely and boring for Silje and Ella. Finding stuff for them to do while I am gone during the day is proving to be a challenge. The weather is too hot and humid to stay outside much, and there's really not much to do outside anyway. You see a lot of people hanging on the roadside, but not many women and kids. Many children go to preschool and Silje and Ella have visited the local one a few times. It is crowded, under staffed, loud and hot. Ella, though she likes to meet other kids, does not last long and the staff has no time to talk to Silje. What we need to find is a friendly housewife, preferably with small kids, who would like visits, or come to our place a few times a week. The search is on.

I personally don't mind the lack of socializing as much as Silje. Back home I'm a bit of a couch potato anyway and tend not to see a whole lot of people and do a whole lot of stuff outside of work. Socializing, of course, is at this point my work and I have to admit that it can be difficult for me to be that person. There are days when I'd rather stay at home and watch CNN. But Silje is good at reminding me why I'm here. And I've been lucky, too. I've met and befriended some very helpful people, among them the head of the local Fairtrade unit who grows bananas himself. I've spent a week or so at his farm now, mainly watching him work and talking to him about the stuff he does. He is good at explaining and doesn't seem to tire of me asking every question that pops into my mind. For me, the challenge is to keep on pushing in order to come to know more people. I've still got a good ways to go.

Daddy's new jeep

I have owned two cars in my life. The first one was a Volvo 244GLE '80 which I bought in California in 2000 when I did my solo road trip across America. The second one is the one you see here, a flame painted Suzuki Escudo (called Vitara in Europe) '94 with attitude. Though the slogans "Eat your heart out" and "Yeh you still talk" perhaps would not have been my top choices, the jeep is a actually a pretty sensible choice considering the pothole-riddled, steep and winding roads it will be traversing. The price tag was $20,000 ECD (41,000 NOK/8000 USD) and knowing next to nothing about cars I can't really say if it was fair or not, though I like to think it was. A friend of ours had a look at it before we made the deal and was of the opinion that we should move quickly.

Finding the car was easy, the seller being a friend of the proprietor of a restaurant close to our apartment. And after eventually having obtained enough cash through ATM-withdrawals, I went with the now previous owner to Kingstown on Thursday, to do the paperwork. I had braced myself for another brutal encounter with bureaucracy, but was pleasantly surprised. The transfer of ownership and the purchase of insurance took no more than an hour and a half, and I could soon drive home as the proud owner of the vehicle. (I had sorted out the driver's licence earlier, but that too is a breeze. You're automatically issued a license valid for 6 months upon showing a foreign license and paying 75 ECD). I went back to Mespo, picked up Sijle and Ella and we celebrated by going to the beach.

Let me point out a funny detail. I think many Norwegians have been amused at how the Helly Hansen brand suddenly became hot in the American hip-hop industry. We've been surprised to see "Helly Hansen" printed on a number of jeep spare wheels in St. Vincent. Why, I do not know. And I have no idea why it is written on the side of our car, but there it is nonetheless, to remind us of home.

The idea of driving in St. Vincent had me a little on edge at first. The roads can be narrow, and like I said, peppered with potholes, but my biggest concern was the reckless driving of some of the van drivers. A taxi driver who took us to Mespo a couple of weeks ago pointed out a house to us where a van had plowed through the wall, into the bedroom one early morning a few days earlier. (Luckily, the people who had slept there were in the bathroom and no one were seriously injured). Not only do the van drivers go fast, they tend to drive in the middle of the road as well, not necessarily showing any sense of urgency in returning to their own half of the road when approaching oncoming traffic. On top of that comes driving on the left side, although when it comes to that I do have some experience from New Zealand and India. Well, the first trips had me on edge, but I'm getting the hang of this now, running slalom between potholes, vans and goats.

BTW: Yesterday we went ahead and bought a child seat for Ella and she seems quite happy to use it.

Back online

We're beginning to settle in in our new apartment in Mespo. Most importantly perhaps, we're back online after some surprisingly quick service from the phone company (which had to come around and install a land line). We have also bought a washing machine, though it turned out to be a bit tricky to install and a guy had to come and punch a few holes in the walls. When it was time to test it it was leaking heavily from the water intake hose and the plumber had to come back to fix it. It is working fine now though, which is a relief at the rate we're sweating out our clothes.

There has been a lot of minor stuff to deal with in the apartment as well, like a leaking toilet, quarrelsome locks on the windows, some lacking furniture, etc. etc., but our landlords have been extremely helpful and kind. There are six apartments in the building (three on each floor, though the downstairs ones aren't quite finished), but we only have one neighbor here so far, a returnee come home after 40 years in America. He claims to feel as much an outsider here as we do. His family lives in Kingstown and couldn't fathom why he wanted to settle down here, but he, like us, appreciates the quietness of the place.

Our next project is to buy a car but that may be accomplished tomorrow already. We've found the car, a 94 model Suzuki jeep, and just need to finalize the transaction and transfer the title. Getting the funds transferred from Norway proved to be a bit of a challenge, however. We wanted to move quick so as not to lose the car to another buyer, so a bank transfer wasn't ideal. Moreover, the banks wouldn't let me buy cash on my visa card over the counter leaving me with numerous ATM withdrawals as the easiest option. The ATM, thankfully is only a stone's throw away from the apartment, like everything else here.

Of other semi-news-worthy events I should mention that we had an opportunity to make ourselves familiar with the health center last week when Ella fell and hit her head on the edge of a door. A rapidly swelling bump on her forehead had us temporarily freaking out, but it was nothing serious and with some ice it came back down in less than an hour.

Its a strange thing to stick out like soar thumbs in a small town like this one. The first couple of weeks we've been very conscious of how other people respond to our presence, and eager to come across as likable ourselves. This becomes extra important when you know no one. This last week or so, however, we've come to know a few people and feel somewhat less socially adrift. Our first acquaintance was a lady running a small restaurant just up the road from us (a stone's throw away). She is the one who connected us with the lady who is selling us the car - a good friend of hers. Silje, Ella and I stopped by for lunch and although the codfish and breadfruit was excellent, the conversation was just as highly appreciated.

Yesterday, Silje did something quite gutsy and took Ella along to visit the local preschool. She found out that there are about 30 kids aged 1 to 4 and only four adults, but (or perhaps therefore) she and Ella were welcome to stop by whenever they want. Ella loves to be around other children so I am sure she will love the place. And we've had the first visits to our home as well. Our landlords have a grandson the same age as Ella who is looked after by a babysitter in the daytime. Although Ella wasn't too happy with this kid coming around and checking out her toys at first, they seem to be hitting it off now.

I too, have made new acquaintances, as I've started to "infiltrate" the banana farming community. Head of the Mespo Fair Trade group, Gideon Gilbert, has been very forthcoming and yesterday I spent all day on his farm, beginning to learn the basics of banana farming. Most importantly I have learned to wear long pants and not shorts when going to a farm. As I'm writing, the itch from 2-300 sandfly bites on each leg (no exaggeration) is taking its toll on my concentration. I am sure I will look back at it and laugh one day.


Oh, the top picture, as you may have guessed, is of the house where our apartment is (it's the one with the towel outside). The second one is the view from or veranda - in the background a van picking up passangers. The last two are of our livingroom/kitchen. All pictures are courtesy of Silje :)

Sign of life

Yeah, we're doing alright. We're still not online at home, but we do have an internet cafe just across the road from where we live. Anthropology is not what it used to be.

More to come at a later point!

Notice

We're moving to Mespo today and it might take a few days for us to get a wireless internet connection up and running. To those prone to worrying, therefore: don't worry if you don't hear anything for a while.

Fifth time's the charm?

Multi-sited fieldwork is a buzzword in anthropology. In layman's terms it means that one in stead of spending all one's allotted time for research in one place one divides it between two or more places. That may not sound very revolutionary but anthropologists have been debating the potential benefits and drawbacks of doing this for a couple of decades or so now. One returning argument among the "old school" anthropologists is that when doing shorter fieldworks you lose out on the cultural immersion which is so essential to what we do. Another point, although I can't recall having heard it used, is the increased potential for "cultural confusion" - a blending together of impressions from previous field sites.

Although what I am doing now is a single-sited fieldwork, I frequently find myself recalling experiences from the previous fieldwork in Sri Lanka, or worse, at some level expect things to be like in Sri Lanka. (Well, I kind of asked for it. Both countries are small, tropical island states and former British colonies.) I expect that this is a passing phenomenon - that I as time passes and I get a deeper understanding of the Vincentian way of life will stop obsessively comparing and drawing on previous fieldwork insights. I can feel it happening a little. After a month I no longer wake up thinking I'm in Sri Lanka. And I am beginning to accept that people are quite different - more laid back and not so hung up on cultural taboos perhaps, more individual minded, and more direct, which means they will say pretty much what's on their mind (if they feel like it).

I had also begun to think that another imporant difference was to be found in the bureaucracy - that the Vincentian civil servants would cause me fewer headaches than their Sri Lankan colleagues (Have a look at what I wrote on July 29, 05 or on February 6, 05). That was at least what I thought before today.

Arriving in St. Vincent you get (if you're on the A-list of countries) a one month tourist visa, which would be sufficient for most visitors. Extensions are dealt with at the Immigration office at the Kingstown police station. We wanted to get this out of the way as soon as we could when we arrived and gave it a try on Tuesday July 22. The office was a bit crowded and we had to wait for a while, but at least we were able to get a hold of the forms so that we could fill them out while we waited. So we did just that. Three forms for each of us, including Ella. Turned out we didn't even have to wait for our number to show on the display - a lady accepted the application and our passports and told us to return two days later. But alas, when we did we were told that we had applied too early. We would have to come back a couple of days before our visas expired. Only then would they accept and process the applications. But we could keep the forms so that we wouldn't have to go through that hassle again.

Time passed and I wrote the incident off as a curiosity. After all, we didn't have to wait long, we got to keep the forms, our passports were returned to us and the lady had hinted that we could apply for a resident's permit instead of having to get several extensions on the tourist visa. I had managed to obtain the forms and today we decided to give it a go.

Things start well. There is no line at the immigration office and we present the resident permit forms (one for each of us, filled out in duplicate). A nice lady in the counter tells us we have to take them to the prime ministers office across the road. Alright. OK. No problem. The PM's office is in the fourth story of a prominent building but heading for the elevator we hit another snag. A receptionist tells Silje that she cannot go up there dressed in a singlet. Her shoulders would need to be covered. Hmm.. We agree that she and Ella will wait for me.

On the fourth floor a woman in army uniform shows me into the correct room. Another counter. I present the forms to a smart looking woman in suit. She asks me where the police certificates of character, the bank statements and the medical certificates are. No one had told me I needed those things. I begin once again to feel like I'm in Sri Lanka, but at least she gives me a note listing the things that must be submitted with the application. After conferring quickly with Silje we decide to fall back on Plan B, the tourist visa extension so we head back to Immigration where I again get to talk to the nice lady. This will be sorted out quickly. I am sure.

But now she asks to see our return tickets, or at least the itinerary. I had brought the itinerary the first time we had applied and thought it had been duly noted on the forms. Apparently it hadn't. I could get a hold of a print out though, if I could find an Internet café. The lady agrees its a good idea and even tells me where to go. Half an hour later we're back for the fourth attempt of the day, itinerary in hand.

Again I get to speak to the nice lady who again begins to leaf through the forms, writing comments on the top of each. She asks if we live at a hotel. I tell her that we're moving to Mespo tomorrow. That we'll be renting a private appartment. "Ohhh..." she goes. "You will need you're landlords to act as your sponsors then", she tells me. One of the forms includes a section for a sponsor but I had left it open when I applied the first time and noone had made an issue of it. But now the nice lady was telling me there was no way around this. I ask her if we would have needed a sponsor if we had still been staying in a hotel. "Well, yes", she says, "but hotels usually have stamps for the purpose", as if that would make much of a difference to us. Again some thinking and I think of WINFA. I ask the nice lady if they could sponsor me, explaining that I am here to do research on bananas. She lights up. "That would be fine!"

I call Arhtur Bobb who's in St. Lucia. But Mrs Rose at the office would be able to help me. He tells me he'll call ahead and let them know I'll be coming so we head over to the WINFA office, a ten minute walk across town. Mrs. Rose (wife of Renwick Rose, WINFA coordinator and a highly esteemed social activist - "a man with many hats" as she says), is awaiting us. She gladly fills out the forms while Ella is getting the full attention of two other ladies in the office. Then she applies the WINFA stamp, "but would it be enough?". She offers to write a letter to go with the application but I tell her that I don't think it would be necessary.

That was it, really. On our fifth attempt of the day there were no faults found with the application and the nice lady disappeared with it and our passports, telling us to come back on Monday.

Any lessons learned? Don't ever expect an application for a visa extension to be uncomplicated, perhaps? Don't ever expect a civil servant to offer you all the information you need to do what you are there for? But although this whole affair has been somewhat frustrating it doesn't really compare to the Sri Lankan system where the information available is next to none.

Moving to Mespo

Quick update:

It's decided. We're not moving to Georgetown. In stead, we're moving to Mespo. This after we on Friday went to have a look at an apartment there that our friends at WINFA had found out about. This time there was no need to think about it. We agreed on the spot. Everything seems perfect. The place is brand new, spacious and has high wooden ceilings and it holds two bedrooms a bathroom and a kitchen. It seems safe (security locks, the police station a stone's throw away (though I'm not about to try)), and it is located in what people seem to agree is a "good area". There is even a health centre close by (throw the other way) if we need medical attention, and a supermarket just down the road. The rent is only 750 ECD (1500 NOK/ 300 USD) a month and the landlords, a middle aged couple, are friendly and well thought of people ("no one will give you any trouble knowing you are with us", the wife promised).

Though Mespo seems to be a bit remote if you look at the map, it is actually only half an hour from Kingstown and the vans leave frequently. And most importantly: this is farm country. The bread basket of the island. There are a number of Fairtrade groups within close distance. Still, I am contemplating buying a car, for convenience' sake, but primarily for Ella's safety. No vans or taxis are fitted with child seats and some of them go pretty damn fast.

But first things first. We're probably moving on Thursday or Friday this coming week.

Monday in Marriaqua ( "This all used to be banana...!")

I promised an update on yesterday's field site reconnaissance trip to Mespo and I'm going to be a man of my word.

Like I wrote in the Georgetown post: although we are eager to get going with the fieldwork we decided to at least investigate alternatives to Georgetown as field site. One obvious alternative is the Marriaqua Valley in the southern interior of the island. Often hailed as the bread basket of St. Vincent, this valley is so fertile you can drop pretty much anything in the soil and it will grow. A fair deal of what is grown is bananas, although other crops such as taro (here known as dasheen) have become increasingly common. The valley is also praised for its grand scenery and magnificent vistas and so a drive up to Mespo and on to the Montreal gardens even further up in the mountains, is held to be one of the island's prime tourist attractions.

We decided to call Brother, a somewhat solemn but highly knowledgeable taxi driver who, like he said it himself "is not in de business only for de dollah". He had told me he was a 24/7 kind of guy - "call me anytime!" What is more, Brother has worked the banana himself. Allthough this was some time ago he knows the drill. And so fifteen minutes to twelve on Monday (fifteen minutes early), Brother parked his taxi outside our flat. Our deal was that he would take us for a four-hour sight-seeing of the Mespo-area and also talk to some people to see if there were any places to rent. What we got was a whole lot more.

Long before we got anywhere close to Marriaqua Brother had stopped the vehicle a number of times to tell us about certain plants (avocado, bread fruit, butter cup, cat's tail, rose mint, nut meg) or places (the spot where the Carib chief Joseph Chatoyer died, a number of lookout points). He would stop at road side fruit stalls and get us samples. At one point we stopped and walked into a banana field where he demonstrated deflowering and pruning. He would point at the landscape and name the crops we saw, usually followed by a contemplative silence and then: "This all used to be banana! All banana...!"

Brother seemed annoyed at farmers who drop out of bananas, either to diversify into other crops or livestock or to get out of farming altogether. He also made sure to comment whenever we passed a banana row that was ill maintained - if e.g the trees weren't pruned or the undergrowth cleared. And likewise he would praise the healthy and well maintained fields.

Reaching Mespo we headed straight inland and upwards, climbing the ridge on which the village of Richland Park is located. A detour into a large farm area afforded us a first hand demonstration of banana cutting (the cutting of a bunch into hands). Again: "This was all bananas!" when we passed taro fields or grace lands. Back in Richland Park, Borther asked around about an apartment or house and got a couple of names. One guy aparently had two newly refurnished houses to let and the one, they thought, was vacant. Turned out it wasn't, but the lady renting it had moved to Canada. She wanted to hold onto the place though and paid the rent duly. Another man had two apartments which we would have loved to live in if we could have renovated them first. After having gotten our hopes up we began to understand that we had drawn blank. Mespo/Richland Park had struck us as a good place to live but what can you do?

We came to terms with this in the Montreal Gardens, a 7.5 acre (3 hectares) estate at 1500 feet (450 m), a beautful place open to the public and with views all the way to the ocean. At this point our four hours were up but Brother insisted that it didn't matter and so we got a chance to wheel Ella, who was now asleep around in her trolly for a while, on narrow walkways of slabs of rock, through formal gardens and underneath tropical canopies. Afterward we returned home along Windward highway, the same road we took to Georgetown, last week, but this time with plenty of stops to take in the view.

So what's next on the programme? Well, we don't want to give up on Mespo just yet so we have asked the people at WINFA if they can dig up any other available accommodation in the area. Wherever we end up though, we need to get there soon.

Bursdagshilsen

Gratulerer med 5-årsdagen, Eirik!

Håper du har en fin bursdag :)

Mange hilsner fra Ella, Silje og Onkel Haakon.

Emancipation Day in Georgetown

Friday was August 1st which is also known as Emancipation Day in the Caribbean*. This was the day, in 1834, that the Slavery Abolition Act ended slavery in the British Empire, although a four year "apprenticeship" was put in its place whereby the freed slaves were still bound to their "masters". In St. Vincent August 1st is a public holiday and from what I have read it is actually used to commemorate the slavery, through contemplative speeches and public events.

We spent Friday in Georgetown, supposedly the nation's second largest town, although a town that strikes us as being way past its prime. It was once prosperous as the center of the island's sugar industry. But today sugar is a thing of the past, and so it seems, is Georgetown. Driving through you are likely to remember the wore-down and abandoned houses rather than the ones with a fresh lick of paint. Yet, this "has-been" town is still home to some people who believe in a better future - through Fairtrade. And that is why this town may be where we nest for the next year.


We had come to Georgetown in high spirits. The trip had been suggested in my meeting with WINFA on Tuesday. They thought it could be a good location for the research as there is lots bananas grown in the area and much of it by Fairtrade farmers. They even knew of a lady, herself a banana farmer, who was looking to rent out a self contained apartment (with a washing machine!). What was more, there would be an "activity" in Georgetown on Friday (no mention of Emancipation Day) hosted by the Grand Sable** Fairtrade unit. I had asked if I could bring Silje and Ella and the answer was a definitive "yes". It would be that kind of family event, with sports and a BBQ. But it would also give me a chance to meet some faces in the banana industry. Mr. Arthur Bobb (head of the WINFA Fairtrade unit) offered to give us I ride up there and I accepted gratefully.

I don't know quite how I had imagined Georgetown, but I hadn't been aware of the deterioration that would meet us. Don't get me wrong, it is not a ghost town, but there is something strange about places like these which slip quietly into history - at least I suppose when you, like me, are used to seeing "progress" everyhwere. The apartment was fine - actually better than what we would have expected to find. It was a bit sparsely furnished, perhaps, but spacious enough and self-contained as promised. Our main worry is that it may get a bit stuffy, located as it is on the ground floor. Actually, the landlady rents out an apartment above as well , and this one has balconies on both sides, but unfortunately for us it is occupied by an American peace corpse volunteer until March. We'll have to make do with this one and a few fans can make a huge difference.

Not that Friday was very hot. It may actually have been the coolest day since we came to the island, much due to a rare cloud cover and the heavy weather which was brewing as we were inside looking at the apartment. Not long after stepping outside again we had to seek refuge in Bobb's car as the wind picked up and the rain started pouring. We drove through Georgetown on the empty main street (the only street), the ocean a stone's throw to our right. In between the houses we could see waves crash in on the volcanic black beach. A few nondescript shops remained open, beer advertisements decorating their doors. The odd pack of stray dogs slinked between goats and fowl.

At one point we passed the playing field which was also to be the site of "the activity". Cricket players had sought refuge under concrete stands and a BBQ kitchen tent was battling against the wind. A banner carrying the Fairtrade logo was twisted up and unreadable. There would be no point in stopping there if this weather kept up, said Bobb a bit gloomily. He was concerned about the bananas, too. "This weather could be enough to do real damage", he muttered. While we were waiting to see if the skies would clear up, Bobb gave us a tour of some fruit groves, belonging to Montaque, a processing plant and subsidiary of WINFA. Apparently there were guavas, wax apples, star fruit (locally known as five fingers), cashews and passion fruit just to name the few I remember, but the weather did not permit a close inspection of the trees. A watchman hid from the rain in a tool shed but greeted Bobb respectfully.

The wind did die down and we returned to the playing field and "the activity". Yet, Bobb was still hesitant. He figured few people would bother to show up now. And the cricket match had been called off, leaving us with no entertainment. Still we stayed for a while as a few people hung around and the ktichen was dishing up some good-looking chow. What followed was about as stark a contrast to my experience with fieldwork in Sri Lanka as could be. Silje and I were quite simply ignored by most people there. No smiles. No questions. No curious glances. We felt lost and a little worried as we ate our food alone, unsuccessfull at engaging anyone in conversation. Ella was the only one able to draw some response.*** Bobb was still there but absorbed in discussion with old friends and colleagues and I didn't want to cling to him. Occasionally he came my way and introduced me to someone, like the head of Grand Sable Fairtrade group, or Simeon Greene who has held a number of important positions within the banana industry, or Senator Saboto Caesar of the ruling ULP party. These people would say a few encouraging words and wish me good luck, but that was it really. We were left to ourselves again.

Back in our comfortable flat in Villa a few hours later we were left to digest the experience and make some sense of it. In Sri Lanka people would have been all over us with questions and friendly chatter. In a way I am glad not to get all the attention, something I was never very comfortable with in South Asia. But had we been given a cold sholder? Was it hostility or shyness that had isolated us, or perhaps people were just a bit pissed off about the weather ruining the day? I don't know, but the question, while intriguing us, also had us enough concerned to start looking for alternative field sites. Mespo (Mesopotamia) came to mind and we headed there today (Monday) to snook around and get a feel of the place. More about that tomorrow!


* Although (I believe) all the former British Caribbean colonies commemorate this day, some do it on the first Monday in August, as did SVG use to.
** Just south of Georgetown proper.
*** Vincentians are crazy for babies and even seemingly indifferent and rather frightening looking young men will smile and wave to Ella (who laughs cheerfully back at them).


BTW: While browsing for pictures of Georgetown (which there aren't many of) I came across this website with loads of great pictures from St. Vincent. I borrowed the above picture of Georgetown from it while the top picture was taken from this site, which also has some great shots.

Tech support needed

Before leaving Norway I decided to splash out and by an HD video camera, or to be more precise, this one (Canon HF100). It works on flash memory and I bought a 16GB Sandisk Ultra II SDHC card which I'm using with it.

I've imported some recordings (AVCHD) on to my laptop. When I watch these recordings on the laptop, particularly the ones with a bit om motion do not flow well at all. I attributed this to the laptop (lack of RAM, poor CPU), but the problem persists even when I export these files to the MPEG-2 format (I have tried converting with ImageMixer 3 SE as well as Nero Vision). This I don't understand. If anyone has a clue as to why I don't get a better result I would be delighted to hear what you have to say.

If you don't want to post comments here, you can email them to me at haakon.aasprong(at)gmail.com

BTW! The recordings look fine when I view them on the camcorder.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about (4,5 MB):




Edit: Of course, if this runs smoothly on your computer I'd be interested in hearing that as well. That would locate the problem in the playback on my computer.

Bathing, dining and biding our time

After a week in Vincy, things seem to be somewhat at a standstill. I was off to a good start on Tuesday when we headed to Kingstown and I was able to get five minutes with Arthur Bobb, head of the Fairtrade unit of WINFA (Windward Islands Farmers' Association), the cooperative in which (I believe) all Vincentian banana farmers are organized. I had been trying to contact Mr. Bobb as well as Renwick Rose, head of WINFA, from Norway, without any luck and was afraid of the reception I would receive by just showing up there and stating my purpose of doing a long-term study on banana farmers. My fears were baseless. Mr. Bobb apologized that my emails had gone unanswered and explained that big things have been happening here lately, particularly with the move to include all WINFA bananas under the Fairtrade scheme and with the ongoing negotiations with the EU and WTO about the dismantling of preferential trade agreements which can carry huge repercussions for Caribbean banana farmers. Mr. Bobb took the initiative to set up a meeting where I could get to know some key persons in the organisation and where we together could stake out a course for my research. The meeting has now been scheduled for 1.30 AM tomorrow (Tuesday). I am elated and a bit nervous.


One of the things i hope will come out of this meeting is some idea of which areas of the island will be best suited for localizing my research. Realizing that it will most likely be some time before we know exactly where to build our nest we have decided to rent an apartment in the Calliaqua area as a temporary fix. Since Tuesday most of the time has been passed apartment hunting, waiting (for food, for Mr. Bobb to call, for Ella to fall asleep or wake up) and swimming in the sea. There seems to be loads of available apartments but still they are tricky to find as people rely on word of mouth rather than advertisements. The way to do it is to ask around. Quite a few people know someone who knows someone who has a place to let. We had a few options but opted for what would be the most conveient with Ella, that is an apartment close to the main road and public transport.


Living in a hotel when you're not on holiday can be quite sad, really, especially if the hotel is largely empty. Ours is, as are, I believe, most Vincentian hotels at the time being, for reasons I do not know. As for the meals, the only proper restaurants are in Kingstown, which is about half an hour away. We've tried pretty much every item on the hotel restaurant menu and while the food is alright, there is the waiting for the meals. Waiting for half an hour for breakfast, lunch and dinner can be somewhat of a trial when you are entertaining a 9 months old baby. The people here are really good with Ella, though. Yesterday she charmed two of the cleaning ladies by charging at them in the hallway and then refusing to be handed back to her mother. The same two ladies told us about the food stalls that are set up in Calliaqua on Saturdays. We weren't difficult to persuade to give them a go, and before we knew it, a Jamaican guy named Norman (one of the few fellow hotel guests) had volunteered to take us there.

Calliaqua, Norman declares, is the southernmost point of St. Vincent (although I beg to differ, having since then studied the map. It is close to the southermost point, though) and is a small town only a 10 minute ride from our hotel. Pulling up by an open-ended white tent at the end of a footbal pitch, Norman hoots out of the open window at the people sitting inside. They hoot back at him, making funny guttural sounds like sports fans. Obviously Norman knows these people, perhaps from when he was working at the island some years ago. We're welcomed like friends of friends. On metallic folding chairs inside the tent sits four ladies, a young man and a girl. The ambience is good and the talk light-hearted - no worries clouding the atmosphere. Silje and I both immediately feel at ease. I am thinking that "This is it! This is the real Caribbean. This is what things look like outside the resort areas." Even the food is relievingly good. A bit greasy perhaps, but exotic to a Norwegian palate with dishes like smoked herring, black fish, salt fish, dumplings, sweet potatoes and plantains. There are also the safer options of chicken, turkey and pork. We try a bit of everything and do not come across anything we don't like. A can of the local beer, Hairoun, makes the experience complete. We chat while we eat, forgetting about the heat. This fieldwork is going to be a breeze.

On returning to the hotel a bit later we stumble upon Ton, the Dutch general manager whom we've chatted a bit with earlier. We tell him about the trip and the food and how we enjoyed it, and he lets slip a remark: "you just wait till you've been here for a year". It is innocent enough and not to be made much of perhaps, but still, it stays with me. I think it is because it reminds me of a kind of ex-pat arrogance which I met in Sri Lanka too. Back then I made the big mistake of lodging with an American who mainly hung out with ex-pats. A man whose Lankan acquaintances did not extend much beyond a selection of the Anglicized elite and who in meeting others made little effort at understanding where they were coming from. I spent a lot of time dodging him and his exiled comrades. After a week in St. Vincent I've run into that kind of people here as well (and I'm not speaking of the hotel manager).

Of course it is completely understandable that ex-pats get together and complain about certain aspects of their host countries, whether it be food, habits, weather or whatever. This is probably the case with most immigrant communities, too. Nobody loves everything about an adopted country and when certain things bug you there is surely therapeutic value in it bugging others as well. Yet, when these things are all you see or talk about, you are in a dangerous place - whether you are exiled by choice or necessity (although it is by far more disgusting in the first case). It is easy to give into a kind of haughty bantering of that which is different or "backwards", but I am going to remind myself that I do not want to be that guy.

In a sense St. Vincent is the tropical paradise you all probably imagine it is, which I guess is why the ex-pats stick around, too. There is a warm climate, beaches, beautiful ocean vistas, coral reefs, and lush forests. And we enjoy those things but they are more of a bonus, really. They are not why we came. Knowing that we are going to live on this island for a year, our main concerns are that we get along well with people, that we are safe, that Ella is happy and that I get good material for the research. These are the things that have kept us preoccupied while living like tourists.


BTW: Those of you who can read Norwegian may be interested in reading Siljes report at Trollheimsporten.

Three years down the road

Alas, the anthropologist blogs again! And why...? Perhaps because the anthropologist would rather share experiences with living people than with notebooks and fieldnote databases? Because writing field notes is exhausting work demanding accuracy and attention to detail rather than dwelling on vague impressions? Yeah, something like that. In the three years that have passed after leaving Sri Lanka the thought of blogging has hardly crossed my mind. Yet here I am, doing it again, on the fourth day after arriving for a new fieldwork, this time in the tiny eastern Caribbean island of St. Vincent.

A short recap (or an update/introduction to those who don't know me all that well):

• August 2005: Returned to Trondheim, Norway from M.Sc. fieldwork in Sri Lanka
  
• June 2006: Turned in and defended the thesis ("Making a Home Away from Home - On Up-country Tamil Identity and Social Complexity at a Sri lankan University")
  
• 2006-2007: Held part-time teaching position at NTNU
• July 2007: Bought an appartment with Silje
• October 2007: Ella Leona was born
• November 2007: Took up position as PhD Research Fellow at NTNU
• March 2008: Married Silje
  
• July 2008: Arrived in St. Vincent along with Silje and Ella to do fieldwork for my doctoral thesis

A word or two about why we chose to go to St. Vincent and what I intend to do here may also be in order. It was on returning to Norway that I first really noticed and caught an interest in Fairtrade and the social and environmental labeling of products more generally. Looking into the research done on producers included in such schemes I found anthropologists and long-term, exploratory reseach to be largely lacking. Impact studies tend to be carried out by economists or sociologists, using mathematical models, samples, interviews and surveys. Few people bother to stick around in one place long enough to be able to challenge the appearances presented to them.

Fairtrade is getting to be a big thing - no longer easily dismissed as niche markets. The estimated total retail value of Fairtrade certified products almost tripled from € 832 million in 2004 to € 2,381 million in 2007. The annual growth in sales has been around 40 % for the past five years (FLO-I). This explosive growth occurs while the WTO and champions of neoliberalism are continuing to push for what they see as fair trade, that is free trade. In the Caribbean context this is felt severely by the marginal banana farmers who are losing preferential access to European markets as the WTO demands an end to such practices. The WTO has ruled that the tariffs leveled by the EU on non ACP banana-producing countries is unfair, which means that the American based multinationals Dole, Chiquita and Del Monte, who already control most trade in bananas and who get their bananas from the larger and more effective Latin-American banana plantations will grab even larger market shares. The household based Caribbean banana farms can never compete with these supersized plantations. Much as a result of the Banana wars (the term used to refer to the long-lasting disagreement between the EU on the one side and Latin American producers of dollar bananas and the US on the other. For recent developments, see e.g. here) Vincentian farmers started seeking Fairtrade certification, seeing it as the only way to stay in business. Today the entire banana industry of the island is switching to Fairtrade in order to stay afloat.

I am here to see how this is working out. But rather than doing an impact study on Fairtrade per sé, I am interested in Fairtrade as one example of standardisation of agricultural practices. Another example, of course, is organic farming, not practiced here now (but perhaps sometime in the future). There are other standards as well, such as GlobalGAP, and then there are EU regulations. There are in fact heaps of people who directly or indirectly want a say in how bananas (and other agricultural products) are produced and my task is to attain some idea on how all these demands are felt and dealt with by the farmers themselves. That is the short version, anyway.

Before wiping the dust off this blog I re-read the last post I wrote in Sri Lanka. So much has happened since then, in my life and in the lives of the students I learned to know there, and I have still not been able to go back for a visit. In fact, I planned to do parts of this research on Fairtrade tea estates in the Sri Lankan up-country, but came to realize that the main reasons I had for doing that were not professional but personal. And with Sri Lanka slipping back into war, taking Ella and Silje there began to seem like a poor idea. I decided to rewrite my project and do the entire thing in the Caribbean. It was a decision saturated with guilt just for being in the position to choose in the first place. It was another tentacle of the Kilopus letting go, and it is with some reluctance I am preparing to wrap myself to this island in stead. Yet, here we are, and updates on our progress will follow. Stay tuned!