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.