Operator Error

Learning to do field research, and finally trying to apply the lessons imparted in every book on research methods I could find, and every seminar and class I have ever taken, does not go as planned. The main reason why this is so…is me. This is not news to anyone who has ever tried to do this before, I know.

Reading back over my field notes from my time in Impfondo, I came across this list I wrote to myself:

Things to be aware of

Nobody will think to tell you anything you need to know ahead of time.

Everything starts late.

Nothing will be clear until it happens.

Even then, it won’t be clear.

You are not the most important thing going on in this place.

The last item on the list is, I think, the important one. On one level, it is what distinguishes a researcher from a tourist. It may also be the characteristic that makes the researcher resemble a missionary – a connection that surprised me, since I am the opposite of religious and typically think of myself as a very different sort of person. It turns out that in many ways I am not.

During my time in Impfondo, I had the chance to meet an extraordinary group of people, missionary doctors and their families at the Hopital Evangelique le Pionnier. This hospital sits at the very edge of Impfondo; turn to the left when leaving the gate and you return to town. Turn right and you are on the road out into the jungle. This community of expatriates provided me with the opportunity to learn more about the process of learning to live and work in Congo, and the strategies that other outsiders have used to adapt. They also gave me access to a reliable internet connection, a chance to share meals, and some great conversation – all things I was feeling in need of at the time.

Gradually, I also came to recognize that we all shared something in common. Not religious faith, since as noted above I am not religious. But missionaries and researchers feel a calling to explore, to teach, and to create change that compels them to act. Throughout history, that impulse has had both good and bad effects. The world’s hardest-to-reach, most underserved populations are touched by the compassion and work of missionaries. Sometimes lives are changed for the better by the results of research, too. Missionaries have also worked hand in hand with colonizers and imperialists, as have researchers of all kinds. The zeal that drives a mission – whether for religious conversion or for scientific discovery – can sometimes go awry.

Doing this work, in full knowledge of its complex and often problematic history, means facing the possibility that I could mess up, do the wrong thing, or fail to achieve anything at all. It also means confronting some of my own biases (against religion), and cultivating a bit more nuance in my own understanding of religiously motivated people and their work. I look forward to this part of the process, since it also means I get to know some amazing people doing meaningful and extraordinary work.

If you would like to learn more about some of this work, check out New Sight Congo, a non-profit group setting up an eye surgical center in Impfondo.   

     

Necessary But Not Sufficient

Above, a water pump provided by UNHCR.

Taking a step back from the moment-by-moment chronicle of my research trip (which I fear may start to sound like a travel blog), I wanted to reflect a bit on the paradox of research in general, and of communication research in particular. In those settings that are now somewhat euphemistically called “low resource” – countries so poor that the governments cannot provide even the most basic services, places where malnourishment remains a bigger problem than obesity – I found it very difficult to remain convinced of the importance of my research goals.

In the face of extreme deprivation, when confronted by the lack of the most basic material resources, I found myself wondering, “Why don’t I just work on meeting this immediate need?” In other words, what’s the point of doing research on something as abstract as communication, when there are much less abstract things I could be doing with my time and energy? Research is necessarily retrospective – you can only study something once it has happened – and looking backwards began to feel much less important than looking forwards.

Posing this question probably reveals exactly how new to this type of research I am. I know, I know, many of my readers are now thinking, “You’ll get over it. We all go through this.” Quite true. I will get over it. But I do think it’s a worthwhile process to go through, and I don’t want to just skip over it.

This line of thinking also led me to question the need for, or importance of both the practice of “communication” and research on the subject. The fact that I have chosen to study a process called “communication” does not mean that I think “communication” can solve every problem. But I do think there are a great many problems that won’t get solved without it. Just making a film on a topic, or raising awareness, or performing “outreach” won’t make underlying structural problems go away, or change much in the material world at all. And researching those efforts won’t solve any immediate material need. It might not even solve those problems that are related to a process called “communication.” At least, not at once.

Likewise, simply providing human beings with “information” (in scare quotes here to indicate that this is itself a contested term) does not often lead directly to behavior change by those same human beings. Smoking is one good example: my fourth grade science teacher’s presentation of a piece of smoker’s lung tissue to my class was definitely enough to persuade me never to smoke, but I also already hated the smell of cigarettes. For several of my classmates, that vivid piece of empirical evidence was not sufficient to persuade them not to smoke, and by the time we all reached high school they were clustered in the bathrooms at every class break, puffing away. Clearly, some other motivation was at work here.

Studying the process of communication about disease prevention and environmental conservation in villages where the only treatment for a child burned in a cooking fire comes from my own emergency first aid kit may seem excessively abstract. Many people will ask, “Wouldn’t it be better to just give them clean water/medical supplies/a health clinic?” Sure, I would reply. But then what? What if you didn’t give them what they actually needed, but instead what you thought they needed? How would you find out what local needs actually were? For me, that is the point in the system where communication questions arise, and where I would like to begin working. 

Observation in the Dark

From Impfondo, the INCEF educators and I traveled by car and on foot to an outlying village, Makolongoulu, located north of the town along the banks of the Obangui River. With us, we carried a small portable generator (“portable” is a generous term for this heavy, awkward piece of equipment), and Pelican cases containing the projector, hard drives, and laptops that will be used to screen the films once we reach the village. We also brought tents, sleeping pads, some food, and lots of drinking water.

Our arrival in the village was almost like a procession: by the time we reached the center of the village, which is strung along the river’s edge for about half a mile, we had acquired a number of ad hoc assistants carrying some of our equipment, and a train of small children tagging along…to stare at me. While both INCEF educators are well known in the village, having conducted film screenings here before, I am a new face and the object of some attention for that reason.

Our first stop after arrival in the village is the home of the village chief, where we are welcomed and shown to the location where we will set up our tents. This first conversation is another form of les civilites, the formal, face-to-face communication we engage in with authority figures. The village chief is a government appointee, and his consent is necessary before we may begin any work. The chief also arranges for the crieur – a sort of town crier – to walk through the entire village announcing the program activities through an electronic megaphone in order to inform village residents of the time and place, who should participate, and other information to promote the program.  

The sun begins to set, and the set up for the film screenings begins. Here at the equator, sunset is around 6:15pm every day, and by 6:00 it is quite dark. Gradually it dawns on me that, of course, the films must be screened in the dark. The audience assembles in front of a white tarp that has been strung between two trees. Each person brings a chair, and sets it down in a small semi-circle. Without any electricity, once the sun sets here it is dark. I know this sounds obvious, but without any ambient light it is nearly impossible to see the audience. I can’t see their expressions, or observe their movements as they watch the films. The group is very fluid, with people coming and going according to their own plan. At times both during and after each short film the lead educator, Mika, addresses the audience through a megaphone, to repeat and reinforce the basic message of each film. Sometimes, audience members call out responses to actions or words in the films, or in response to a question Mika has asked.

Older women and men seem to be the core of the audience, seated near the front. Many of the women are holding babies and small children, who also cry, run around, and talk. Around the periphery of the audience group, younger men stand, coming and going throughout the screening. Although there is no electrical service to Makolongoulu, the village does have cell phone reception and many of these younger men are texting or talking on their phones during the film screening. At times they also call out responses, or make side comments about the films to their friends. In the back of my mind, I am reminded of the TV show Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K to its fans), where puppets screen old B movies while offering their own commentary and dialogue through the entire film. Once this analogy has popped into my head, it’s difficult to dislodge – one of the hazards of observational research for someone with a long personal history of immersion in American popular culture, I am learning.

Overall, the scene could be described as chaotic and disorganized, if one were only to take the perspective of an outsider. My job is to set aside these judgments – and my initial random TV analogies – and try to understand what is happening in this scene from the perspective of the participants. To them, I slowly begin to understand, this scene is not chaotic. It does make sense. I am the only one disoriented by the darkness and the multiple voices speaking at once. I am going to have to learn to perform my observations in the dark, and to untangle the threads of the various types of speech going on around me.    

Above, a photo of lead INCEF educator Mika (left) with the Community Relay contact in Makolongoulu (right)

“Faire les civilites”

Before we can begin any activities in Impfondo and the surrounding area – research, INCEF project work, etc. – we must first “faire les civilites,” a procedural form of official communication required by local authorities. Because it involves face-to-face communication with individual government officials, the fact that we have arrived late on a Friday afternoon means that we cannot begin this process until the following Monday, when those officials will again be receiving petitioners and visitors. INCEF and its partner organizations, UNICEF and Medecins d’Afrique (MDA) are well known in Impfondo and have been working here for years, but each visit and resumption of project activities requires that a formal letter of mission be presented to the district Prefect, and the Sub-Prefect, and also possibly to the head of the local police. This letter of mission is the same document that was examined and stamped when we arrived at the airport.

Of course, Impfondo is a small town (or perhaps a very large village), so we also run into some of the same officials we must meet with at the town’s principal restaurant, Le Tropicana. Here, appointments may be made, or the intention to make the appointment signaled, and my presence in Impfondo explained in advance. Because Impfondo is a small place where everyone knows everyone else, and because I do tend to stick out in the crowd here, I must be explained.

Monday finally arrives, and together with the INCEF educator from Brazzaville and the local INCEF educator based in Impfondo, I walk over to the location of our first appointment at the residence of the district Prefect. First, we wait outside on the street, while a cell phone conversation and a few other conversations with the police guards outside the compound establish the fact that we have an appointment. Then we are escorted inside, across a courtyard to a seating area outside what appears to be the main building. We have a view of a staircase leading to another building, decorated with elaborate wooden carvings, and a small wooden bridge connecting to the main house. After a wait, the Protocol Officer comes out, greets us, and takes the letter of mission up the stairs and across the bridge into the house. After more waiting, the Protocol Officer returns and escorts us up the stairs and into the outer building, which turns out to be an office almost entirely filled by a conference table and seats for about twenty people. There we wait until the Prefect enters the office, and we stand until he is seated. He has our letter of mission, and asks several questions to the INCEF educators. He also discusses their overall project goal, violence prevention, and the reasons why he believes this is necessary in the region. My presence is also explained, and my credentials offered. At the conclusion of the meeting, we are given permission to proceed, as well as the assurance that we will have whatever support the Prefect can offer. I must fill in a register book with my name and cell phone number, and then we are escorted out.

Next, we walk to the offices of the Sub-Prefect, where a similar procedure is carried out in somewhat less grand surroundings. I am introduced, the project work and scope is explained, and our letter of mission is stamped and signed. I am surprised at how uncomfortable the whole process makes me, and how odd it feels. It is very easy to get exasperated with this extensive official gatekeeping. When I ask about it, both INCEF educators seem surprised that I have questions about the process. They explain that it is necessary for all local officials to be informed directly about our activities, and for them to authorize and facilitate our work by contacting the village chiefs in locations where we plan to work. Likewise, they point out, if we were to get into any trouble during our work, which might require official intervention, we would be unable to appeal for assistance if our work had not received prior authorization.

Again, the process of communication with official bureaucracy appears as an important factor in accomplishing both INCEF’s work, and my research work. There are particular procedures, words, and terms associated with this communication, and written documents appear to play a very important role. Likewise, the face-to-face experience and official office settings are important (even necessary). One may not faire les civilites via email, or over the telephone. The statement of the credentials and background of all participants also seems to be part of the process. I noticed that my own credentials became slightly inflated (I was suddenly introduced as a “professor,” rather than a mere “researcher”), and institutional affiliation was also important. This entire process must also be repeated at the conclusion of our work in the area, and we will return to these same offices to give an oral report of the outcomes of the project.