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 :)