Category: Field Notes

Minamata for the Future (3/3)

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“We pray for the life that fell victim to Minamata Disease. We beg the creatures of the sea, to allow us, the people of the sea, the mountains and the city, the careful use of the sea. We will unite to protect the Sea with all our might. The blueness of the sky remains unchanged, from then to now. The blueness of the sea remains unchanged, from then to now. The greenness of the mountains remains unchanged, from then to now. The brilliance of life remains unchanged from then to now. This life, unchanging, must be protected now, for all eternity.”

This is an inscription under the two bells at the Minamata Disease Memorial. The memorial is built upon the reclaimed land in Minamata City, land that was once sludge-filled sea saturated with organic mercury. Today, Minamata citizens continue to grapple with their past in a variety of ways, from people who are pushing for environmental global change through sustainability projects, to people who are still fighting to lessen the medical and social effects of Minamata Disease on those it has affected, to people who simply wish to remain quiet about the whole ordeal and move on into the future. There is no right answer. To families who wish to not speak of the disease in fear of the affiliated stigma, this is understandable, but as a society, both global and local, we must not let the lesson of Minamata Disease go unheard: We have a broken relationship with nature. By allowing our corporate business policies to see nature as a resource to be used until gone, or as an empty vessel for our polluted waste, we are harming ourselves. Humans live within these ecosystems and any blight on nature is a blight on us. A major step towards creating a more just and caring world, is too recover our broken relationships with nature.

Swahili Tales (2/2)

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The Competition of the Impala and the Turtle

One day a lion, elephant, impala and turtle were all standing together talking about having a race. Impala said, “I am the fastest, nobody can compete with me!” Turtle countered, “I am the fastest, nobody can compete with me!” So Elephant and Lion said in order to divine who was the faster of the two animals, they must have a competition. Turtle suggested they race in the tall grass growing nearby. The race would begin with Lion as the starting point, they would run to Elephant, and then they would turn around and run back to Lion to complete the race. Just before the race began, Turtle summoned some of his relatives and asked them to help him. All of Turtle’s relatives made a long line in the tall grass, spanning all the way from Lion to Elephant. Finally, the race began. Impala sped off quickly, but it when he looked back, he realized he couldn’t even see Turtle in the long grass. He called out, “Turtle, where are you?” One of Turtle’s relatives near Elephant shouted back, “I’m here, in front of you! You can’t compete with me!” Hearing this, the Impala picked up speed, running as fast as he could in order to catch up to Turtle. Once Impala reached Elephant, he turned around and called out again, “Turtle, where are you??” This time, a turtle near Lion shouted out, “I’m here, in front of you! You cannot compete with me!” The Impala was very tired at this point, and when he heard that Turtle was so far away he became so discouraged, knowing that he could never beat Turtle now, and so he fell to the ground, exhausted.

Sound familiar? The Tanzanian version of the tortoise and the hare right here. This was a story that I heard from a man named Johni during a short research period on traditional tales in Olasiti, Tanzania in 2013. We (my Swahili translator and I) sat in the dark living room/bedroom of his home as he related this story and a few others, always using a sing-song voice when repeated phrases came up, such as “I’m here in front of you! You can’t compete with me!” (in swahili: Niko hapa mbele yako! Uwezi kushindana na mimi!“)

Tales such as these are important because they teach young listeners morals and lessons. The amazing thing about stories like these, though, is that depending on how you look at it, a different moral might arise. Mythologist Martin Shaw thinks it’s important not to see stories as uni-faceted. He describes them as wild animals — “It’s got tusks, udders; it’s got a tail; it doesn’t behave; half the time you want it to be there it’s disappeared, it’s shuffled off somewhere else” (Shaw 2019: 66) — that shouldn’t be caged. Stories are alive and they grow as they enter us, as we sit with them without judgement, as Shaw suggests we do. “The moment you think you know what the story means from beginning to end, it’s lost its nutrition, it’s lost its protein, it’s lost its danger” (ibid.)

There doesn’t seem to be much dangerous about the child’s story of the tortoise and the hare, or the impala and the turtle, but we should remember that depending on the context in which its told, its moral can come across differently.

It’s fascinating to see these two tales collide across geographic differences, and it makes me wonder where this story originated, and are there others like it in other countries around the world?

References:

Shaw, M. 2019. Mud and Antler Bone. Emergence Magazine, 1, pp. 65-70.

Original Swahili:
Hapo zamani, kulikuwa na Simba, Tembo, Swala na Kobe. Walika na kujadili wafanya mashindo ya kukimbia. Na mashindo hayo yatawausu Swala na Kobe. Swala akasema, “Lazima nishinde kwa sababu hakuna atakai shindana na mimi.” Pia Kobe akasema, “Na mimi ni lazima nishinda kwa sababu hakuna atakai shindana na mimi.” Waka kubaliana Simba akae mwanzo wa mashinda na Tembo akakae mwuisho wa mashindano. Ikabibi kobe awaite wenzake iliwamsaidie. Kwa hiyo kubehao walikubaliana wajipange kwenye nyasi kwanziya mwanzo mpaka mwuisho wa mashindano hayo. Nandipo mashindano yakaanza. Wakati wakikimbia Swala akumuita Kobe, “Kobe, uko wapi?” No Kobe akajibu, “Niko hapa mbele yako! Uwezi kushindana na mimi!” Kumbe Kobe aliyekuwa anaitikiya sio Kobe aliopaswa kuanza mashindano. Mashinano yaiendelea. Mpaka mwuisho, na Kobe alishinda. Walibidi warudi tena iliapatikane mshindi. Kobe walipanga mstari kwenye nyasi kama mwanzo. Na Swala aliendelea kumuita Kobe, “Kobe, uko wapi??” Na Kobe akajibu, “Niko hapa mbele yako! Uwezi kushindana na mimi!” Ndipo Swala alichoka na kuanguka chini na kufa kwa sababu kila amuitapo Kobe anitikia mbele yake. Na Kobe alighinda.

Swahili Tales (1/2)

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The Story of the Rich Man and the Poor Man

There once was a man from a poor family who went looking for a job. A rich man employed him as a pastoralist for his cows. One day, as he was working, a bird came up to him and landed on his shoulder. The bird said, “I have come to help you with your poverty, do you want my help?” The poor man had little to lose, and so he decided to trust the bird. He asked the bird what kind of help he could give, but the bird didn’t answer. Instead, he flew into the sky, and at this moment all of the cows disappeared. The poor man, unsure what to do, went to the rich man and told him that all the cows were mysteriously gone. Upon hearing this, the rich man fired the poor man and evicted him from his land. The poor man was forced to return to the bush, where he once again encountered the bird, who landed on his shoulder and spoke. “From now on you will be a rich man,” the bird said. But the man didn’t understand, he had just lost his job after all, how could he be rich? “Where is this wealth?” he asked the bird. The bird then told the poor man to follow him and flew into the forest, leading the man to where the cows had gone. The bird, landing for the last time on the man’s shoulder told him, “Now you are rich!” The poor man, now turned rich, was shocked at his good fortune and thanked the bird for his help.

Adapted from a story told to me by a man named Bashir during a short research period in Olasiti, Tanzania, 2013. During this time, I interviewed villagers (with the assistance of a Swahili – English translator) about traditional stories as told to them by their parents, grandparents, or other relatives. To be honest, I was not able to hear many stories, as people were often confused by my questions and worried about my intentions. Every few interviews I found a few gems, though, some of which did not translate well, and a couple which I recently found documented in an old notebook. Here is the first of two that I will share with you – next weeks will probably seem a bit more familiar!

Original Swahili:

Hadithi inahusu Tajiri na Masikini
Kuliluwa na mtu mmoja kutoka kwenye familia ya kimasikini. Siku moja alikuenda kutafuta kazi. Akatokea mtu mmoja nakumwajiri kama mfugaji wa mg’ombe wake. Siku moja alipokuwa kazini akatokea ndege mmoja nakutua kwenye bega lake. Ndege huyo alipokuwa kwenya bega lake akamwambia “Nimekuja kukusaidia kutokana na umasinini wako. Je, unataka msaada wangu?” Akachukua maamuzi ya kumwamini ndege. Yule na kumuuliza kitu gani unachotaka ili kunisaidia. Ndege huyo gafla akapaa juu na mifugo yote ikaondoka. Masikini ilibidi kurudi nyumbani kumtaarifu tajiri yake na hapo tajiri yake alichukuwa uamuzu wa kumfukuza. Alipofukuza maskini yule alibidi arudi porini na gafla akakutana na ndege yule. Ndege yule alipomwona yule maskini alimwambia “Kwanzia sasa wew ni taajiri.” Miskini yule alibidi kushanga makumuliza “Je utajiri huwo uko wapi?” Ndege yule alimwambia nifwate. Nasikini yule alipomfwata aliona ile mifugo iliyokimbia gafla ndege akamwambia kwanzia sasa mifungo hii itakuwa ndo utajiri wako. Maskini yule alishangaa nakumshukuru yule ndege.

Maa

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Day 67, 8 – 10 November 2014

There are (at least) two baby goats, one mama dog, four puppies, two children, me and my Maasai mama living in this room. It is dark and hot and smokey. Welcome to the world of the Maasai.

My mama is thirty years old and her name sounds like Melanie but with an N. Nelanie. Communication is near impossible except with gestures, short one-word sentences and laughter. She speaks no Swahili and I speak no Maa. She has three children, and her husband has three other wives (I think). Musa is the youngest (2), then Sirgoit (4) and Langona (10). Today we drank chai, washed dishes, made dinner, and then threw dirt on the roof of the house because of the rain (it being the first rain in awhile).

This house is a sauna that burns your throat and eyes. Some might call it ‘cozy.’ It consists of two wooden beds, a fire pit, and some shelving for pots and pans. The walls are made of thick dark clay and the only light comes from a tiny baseball-sized window and the ever-flaming smokey fire. I sit on my bed as Nelanie cooks chapati soaked in tasty fat. Sirgoit looks at me, his eyes big. He begins to bang on a water canteen, rhythmically, like a drum. I clap my hands on my knees and a big smile spreads across his face. We play simple music together while mama cooks a basic meal with flour, fat, and cooked cabbage. I will never forget Sirgoit’s young smile. He never once speaks to me, but his smile, laughter, and curious eyes are enough to know that he cares, and that through this strange experience we are connected.

Language learning is an important part of the anthropological process. Many languages, especially smaller or threatened languages, cannot be learned beforehand in classes or online, but must be learned simply through immersion.

I have had the amazing experience of being immersed in many different languages, some of them common, like Spanish, French, and Swahili, and some of the uncommon, like Marquesan and Maa. Above is an example of anthropological field notes and language jottings for your enjoyment and curiosity.

“People are everywhere the same except in the ways they differ”

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“… ‘People are everywhere the same except in the ways they differ’, which is not, admittedly, a very profound statement. Yet in an important sense it is what a century of anthropology has taught us, and on closer inspection this is no small thing” (Monaghan & Just 2000, p. 145).

‘People are everywhere the same except in the ways they differ’… this is a mantra I have spoken to myself countless times, the simplicity of it making its truth even more profound. The first time I fully understood this statement was when I was visiting the Embera tribe in Panama with my aunt. I was sixteen and spoke no Spanish. My Aunt was laughing with a group of girls, and when I asked her what they were talking about she said, “I was asking them which boys they like.” I remember the girls continuing to giggle and blush, whispering to each other in a language I couldn’t understand. In that moment – it was a time when my own heart was breaking for a boy – I realized that we were the same. Despite our disparate languages, our disparate dress, the disparate places in which we lived, we were exactly the same. We both laughed and blushed over boys. People are everywhere the same except in the ways they differ.

Embera tribe members relax after bathing in a waterfall (2009)

References:

Monaghan, J. and Just, P. 2000. Social & Cultural Anthropology: A Very Short Introduction. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Tropical Island Reverie

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21 September 2013

We are window-plastered faces. The plane wing backdropped by perfect clouds and crisp blue ocean. The bus ride. Crooked coconut trees extend highest in the sky. Local eyes follow the bus as it zips along the surprisingly well-manicured road. Children dancing, stopped and stared, wide-eyed at the passing wazungus [foreigners]. They play with soccer balls, old coke bottles, rubber tires and sticks.

Ocean. Breeze. Sunset. Birds flying. Noises, voices. On the bus Indian (Bollywood) music plays, fitting the mood. Golden headscarf wrapped around my face. Hot and humid. Sticky back. I could live here. I could be the quiet mzungu wife who plays with the little children. Cover me up in modesty, I like it here. Beautiful view, fishing boats in the calm azure water.

Musings on my first trip to a tropical island, Pemba, Tanzania. Ever since I stared out that window and saw my first glimpse of island life I have been forever drawn towards islands and their surrounding marine environments. I will never forget my time spent in Pemba –from our experience in classrooms and the role education plays in their society, to exploring seaweed farms and other important forms of livelihood among the islanders. Many of my experiences in East Africa have shaped me more than I can imagine, and I hope someday I can return to the beautiful countries of Kenya and Tanzania.

If you are interested in East Africa and marine ecosystems, I suggest reading Christine Walley’s Rough Waters: Nature and Development in an East African Marine Park. While I have not read it myself, it has been on my to-read list for awhile as it has been recommended to me many times. If any of you have read it before, please feel free to comment on this post with your opinions and reviews!

Fall in Minamata

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November 1st 2016

Welcome to November. It’s really started to feel like fall. Today the air is crisp and cool. When the sun shines you can smell the warmth. This morning we harvested kaki [persimmon] from the trees – climbing high up in a ladder and I thought if I did this everyday for all my life I think I’d be happy.

I’m sitting outside at the river’s edge as I write, and it reminds me of our first day here at Garanse House, when Tatemaru, Jado and I were picking wild flowers for the dinner table. The water is the same but the air is cold now, so the thought of swimming is no longer on anybodies mind. There are plastic bags floating in the river, blown away from the garbage drop-spot and now I will go pick them up. A clean river is a happy river, especially here in Minamata.

This is an excerpt taken from my journal during my time spent in Minamata in the fall of 2016. What I loved most about Minamata was its commitment to keeping nature clean, happy and sustainable. However, if you look up Minamata on google (or let’s say Ecosia! Use this search engine instead, it plants trees!) you will hardly see anything about the modern town. You will be bombarded with articles on Minamata Disease, a horrible tragedy that occurred in the mid 1900s (specifically beginning in 1932). Chisso, a plastics manufacturing company was dumping their waste into the Shiranui Sea, and this waste contained methylmercury, which poisoned the fish. The fish ate the mercury and the people ate the fish…. Thousands of people were affected, many of which died a painful and confusing death.

Today, however, Minamata is striving to be better. The city as a whole focuses on ecological sustainability. Some residents are still afflicted by the residual effects and symptoms of Minamata Disease, thus making others acutely aware of the necessity to keep nature clean, healthy and unpolluted for the sake of the whole population.

As the pollution by indestructible plastics becomes more apparent around the world, it is important for small villages like those surrounding Minamata (in this case, Fukuro, where Garanse House is located) to be careful of their waste. This, the residents of Minamata surely know. Bags in the river will not be tolerated, not by locals nor by me, as a foreign visitor. Let’s all do our part to keep our natural world clean and healthy.

To learn more about Minamata Disease check out Michiko Ishimure’s autoethnographical book Paradise in the Sea of Sorrow: Our Minamata Disease.