Going Native: observations about an observation

I made the bold decision to go into the field without an interpreter last week.  Some people may think I’m careless with my own safety for making this decision, but I can assure you I felt perfectly protected.  And no, my parents aren't exactly thrilled about this decision.  It’s a little tricky to become a part of the community you’re researching when that community is women in sex work.  While I was in Dharavi in Mumbai, the Gujarati potter told us about a man from the Discovery Channel who came and stayed with him in the slum for 3 days which I thought was so cool.  The best way to learn about a people is to spend time in their environment.  However, I can’t exactly stay in the brothels for three days.  Well, I would love to but I’m going to make a grand assumption and say that that arrangement could be a bit complicated.  My organization was hesitant about letting me go without my interpreter the other day.  They sent me in with three bodyguards though (elder women in sex work who wouldn’t leave my side).  My interpreter dropped me off and made sure I was okay and then she left me there to hangout for a few hours.  I was sitting on a little stoop with a few of the women who sell rotis in the area during lunchtime.  I was in charge of the tokens.  They count how many rotis they sell every day using a token system.  It occurred to me while I was sitting with them that I was really impressed by their ability to run a business considering their extreme lack of education.  Granted, it’s a very basic business from an outside perspective.  But they’re still handling money and maintaining organization.  It’s great for them.

Spending the afternoon with them was a fascinating experience.  First, while I obviously appreciate the ability to communicate via words, it was a great learning experience to be without my interpreter.  I had to use a blend of sign language, head bobbles, and pointing to get my thoughts across.  And I probably smiled and nodded at vastly inappropriate times when I didn’t understand what someone was asking me... oh well.  As usual, I was pleasantly surprised by their extreme hospitality.  They made me sit on the stoop next to the rotis instead of on the bench in front of the stoop because they wanted to keep me farther away from the customers which was much appreciated.  The women even put a few sheets of newspaper down so I didn’t have to sit on the disgusting tiles.  Then I got treated with all sorts of completely unsanitary but delicious snacks.  My first treat was fresh coconut.  Delicious.  They grabbed the coconut, smashed it against the wall and handed out the pieces.  I guess I’m easy to please but I was so content sitting with these women eating my coconut and hanging out.

Next, they offered me chai which I happily accepted.  I got a little nervous when the woman came back with a little plastic baggy full of chai, like the type of bag you’d put a goldfish in.  Please God, protect me from these germs.  When we were done with our chai I tried to hold onto my cup so I could throw it out later but the woman grabbed it and threw it on the ground.  At least I didn’t do the littering myself.  My final treat was raw chickpeas (which according to some internet blogs, you're not actually supposed to eat raw because it can make you really sick...oops?).  A little boy came by with a basket full of the plant and the women bought a handful for us to snack on.  Again, probably not the cleanest plant in the world but it tasted good and I didn’t want to refuse their generosity.

And of course no experience is ever going to be 100% positive.  The fact that I’m a young woman sitting in the red light district with other women in sex work kind of makes it look like I am also a sex worker.  Yes, I am completely insane for putting myself in a situation where I would be mistaken for a sex worker.  I swear I take every step possible to make myself safe in these situations.  Some men would walk by and glance at me, I would look down and then realize that’s what a disempowered sex worker would do so then I would look up and realize that meeting their eyes may convey the wrong message as well.  I really wasn’t sure where to look so I generally kept my eyes on the rotis and the women.  Occasionally, a small crowd would gather to stare at the foreigner and the women would yell at them.  Luckily, the language barrier prevented me from knowing whether anyone actually asked "how much?" but I never felt too uncomfortable.  I felt like I had a wall of protection from the women that were with me, and no one would let any of the men look at me for too long never mind come close enough to bother me.

So was it worth the risk? Yes, absolutely.  The women were happy to have me and I was able to observe and relax without my interpreter itching to get out of there.  It helped me build a better relationship with the women, and I even got to see some of the girls we had previously interviewed at the office.  They would stop by and smile questioningly when they saw me.  We said hi and then attempted minimal conversation until we both realized we couldn’t communicate.  I only have two days left at my internship and I’m realizing how much I’m going to miss these women and their community.  I have learned so much in my short time here, and I know it’s only the beginning of a lifetime full of learning but it’s still sad to see this chapter end.

Just two weeks until my return to America.  Home, sweet home.  See you soon

xo A