June 6 2004
Having J here has been a blessing and has also been much, much harder than I had thought. The sleep deprivation has really been affecting us. Trying to attend night activities is hard as we have to get up early in the morning for J. We both take turns attending to J in the morning because we have to try to keep him as quiet as possible in
our room while the others sleep. Plus it is still dark and there is nowhere else to play…Had a great day with J today. The children ran him up and down the beach showing him bright green fish they had caught, sea slugs and a snake. He was captivated by a variety of beautiful shells. A. wanted him to feel the current as he walked through the stream running into the sea…The children just couldn’t leave J alone – pinching him and kissing him at every opportunity. I wonder if this fascination will get old with time.
As this diary entry shows, there are advantages and disadvantages particular to bringing a family to live with research participants in the field. This has been recognised by other anthropologists and social researchers (e.g. Flinn, Marshall, & Armstrong, 1998; Cupples & Kindon, 2003). The benefits include a greater opportunity to become subjectively saturated in the culture and to gain more insights into family life. Conversely, the disadvantages of research with children include finding time for research and for private family time. This was a very real struggle for our family. While I appreciated having Matt there to take the load off me as far as my parental responsibilities were concerned (washing and drying cloth nappies, cooking, and general childcare), I was constantly aware that this was not actually his ‘thing’ at all. He never wanted to be a near-solo full-time parent and parenting in such a different and challenging environment was twice as hard as parenting at home in New Zealand. Other parents and children in Boumā often encouraged our one (and later two) year old son to behave in ways we felt were unacceptable (e.g. to hit other children and to kill chicks). We were constantly fighting an uphill battle with our own discipline and boundaries for our son. Some days the heat made the simplest chore almost impossible and we came to fully embrace the Fijian expression cegu mada (please rest).
Matt’s presence also ensured I was not considered a ‘single’ woman. I had heard from a single European marine biologist who had visited Waitabu that living in a Fijian village was not so easy if you did not have a husband. She lived in a different Vanua on Taveuni and had the unnerving experience of having a single male knocking on her window late at night and early in the morning. Even single men were not immune, as
Dan (the Peace Corps representative Matt and I had befriended) had some problems with a single local woman pursuing him in Lavena. She, too, had knocked on his window late at night asking him if he wanted to go for a walk and made suggestive statements to him at every opportunity.
If nothing else, Jacob was a talking point and often managed to ‘break the ice’. I was aware of what an annoyance I must be if I was constantly asking questions related to the research or otherwise. Jacob was a good excuse to simply sit with other women and talanoa (chat). This not only gave Matt a break, but allowed me to forge more meaningful and valuable relationships with those around me. However, when I did want to sit quietly and talk to people while tape recording, I found having Jacob with me very stressful. Often he would grizzle and I would have to stop the tape several times in an attempt to settle him enough to continue. Many times, I had to excuse myself to walk him to Matt (who was usually having a much deserved rest at the opposite end of the village).
I was constantly concerned about Jacob’s health as almost all the children had scabies and runny noses and many had the swollen tummies that may have been indicative of worms. Despite this, I let him run freely with them as it would have been unrealistic and undesirable to try to quarantine him from his little friends. We wanted him to fully integrate with his peers and to experience life as a little Fijian would. Jacob did get sick, though. For about a fortnight he had occasional diarrhoea. He seemed well in himself all this time but was rapidly losing weight.
A healer called Miri came to visit a good friend of mine. Everything was big about Miri. She was a very big woman with big hair. She wore bright makeup and big bright sulus. She told outrageously bawdy jokes and was a lot of fun, but she told us that Jacob was the victim of black magic and that our bure had been built too close to a large rock which was the sacred site (yavu/housemound) of a malevolent ancestor. Miri said that a small group of men from the village had cast black magic on Jacob to make him sick. Even though my common sense told me to ignore all this, I must admit, I felt
truly fearful: if not of the ancestor then of my neighbours who wanted to make my baby ill. When I asked why they would want to do this a friend told me that it was because some families were jealous that we were giving our attention to one family: our host family. Miri massaged Jacob with coconut oil for twenty minutes to get the ‘cold’ out of him and a friend also offered to do some spiritual healing for Jacob. I wanted all the help I could get at this point and agreed. They told me to go home and that night they would collect Jacob and me when it was time.
They came to the bure late at night after Jacob had been asleep for some time. We all went to the church where a large group of people were sitting in a circle in the semi- darkness. Apart from some small smiles from a couple of familiar faces the atmosphere was solemn. To this day I am very glad Jacob slept through most of this because if not, I fear he may have been quite traumatised. This was a Fijian charismatic healing. The group of people cried, shook and wailed in waves together as they commanded the evil spirit out of my baby son. The next day Jacob started vomiting. I spent a fitful night worried sick about him before taking him to the hospital on the 6am bus the next morning. After a night on a drip in hospital, he was discharged and I brought him back to the village where he slowly regained weight. I felt shaken by this event for a long time afterwards. The healer had described the ancestor as very dark and tall. For many nights after the healing I would look up into the cross-beams of the bure and try not to see a tall dark figure. I became more protective of my son and many, many times during his illness considered simply packing our bags and leaving the next day.