Third Phase of My Fieldwork

The third phase of my fieldwork began in November 2001, after a hectic eight weeks in Germany, and lasted six months. This time, no more organizational preparatory work was necessary, and I went straight to Gudapada. Only forty-eight hours after my plane left Berlin, the bus dropped me off, and when I arrived in the village, I was immediately informed that I had come at just the right time. Another festival was underway, and I had arrived punctually for the meal; it seemed as if I had only been away briefly.

Manto returned a few days later, and some weeks later, Amrei also arrived, this time staying five months. After the last marriage rituals had been completed, Jomna, in whose house I had been eating for so long, was of the view that we should now cook for ourselves. We were married and had a house, so we were absolutely self-sufficient, in her opinion. On the one hand, this remark shows the importance of an independent family’s own hearth. On the other hand, it was evidence that I was no longer an asocial isolated being, but rather had a family within the framework of the village community, even if I did not yet have any children. I convinced Jomna that we would gladly continue to eat at her house, among other reasons because we would be on the road too much to cook regularly.

Since Amrei was now in Gudapada for an extended period, I could observe the process of her integration. While I had learned my way around the public world of the men and the rituals, she was introduced by her sisters into an entirely different domain. When women do laundry at the river, fetch water from the fountain, or collect wood in the hills, they are often among themselves, beyond male influence. Amrei’s knowledge of the language increased rapidly, among other reasons because the women pressed her for answers to important and intimate questions: how much (not whether) I hit her, for example. Her presence at births and, not least, her participation in the dances incorporated Amrei still more firmly into the women’s community, and it became clear to me how onesided a male researcher’s perspective must remain. Amrei’s integration also led to the somewhat absurd scene that she participated in the dance performance for tourists. The Europeans came to see “exotic” Gadaba dance, after all, and now a white woman was dancing in their midst. They took it with a sense of humor, however.

The last months passed quickly. The “crazy” man had stopped calling me Suklu and switched instead to the local version of my name, and he also addressed Amrei more often with the term for “daughter.” He sat with Manto and myself more often in the last months, and we held normal conversations, to the extent that was possible. Another indication of my integration: a Gadaba from Gudapada who lived in the distant capital and did wage labor there visited the village only rarely. On these occasions, he generally addressed me as “stranger,” until my neighbor corrected him. He should stop calling me that, my neighbor said, since after all I lived in the village every day, unlike him; the implication was that he was the one who was a stranger.

At the end of March, the April festival came round for the third time. I was long past trying to slip away on the festival day. Together with Ori and Rogu, I performed the house rituals, and Amrei brewed beer and cooked the sacrificial meal. As is usual at such festivals, we officially received guests and made visits of our own. At the sacrificial ritual at the shrine outside the village, I ate with the Tigers and Fish this year as well, not with the Cobras.