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 Stuff happens and then more stuff happens and then the updates you intend to write become outdated before they're even written.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.

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 :)

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.

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!