Going Native. Have you heard the tales of artists leaving the crowded and noisy cities for idyllic South Sea islands? Yeah, that’s going native.
Now, this is strictly apocryphal, not anthropological scripture. But occasionally, it’s been known that one of the anthropological callings goes “native.”
One close friend reappeared from the remote location of his Ph.D. research, sat for his thesis defense, and promptly returned to the family he’d established on said remote oceanic paradise.
My friend eventually returned to the East Coast, USA, bringing his family with him. Over beers one night, he admitted that he just didn’t fit in all that well. He was clumsy with the fishing nets, never liked the local alcohol, and grew to dislike being a perpetual outsider. Being there as an overly eager student studying local culture was one thing, but living it for the rest of your life was another. He said he placed too much value on participating in local rituals that bound him to the local community—a few liminal moments while partaking in psychedelics and joining a men’s society all seemed important when they happened. Then, one of his children became seriously ill. It was a two-day trek to a missionary hospital. There was no substitute for Western medicine. After that, he decided to come home.
Years later, we reconnected. I left grad school without completing my doctorate and worked as an applied anthropologist. And he was now a journalist. It was a long evening of grumbling and complaining. Neither of us had ever found the sort of fieldwork Nirvana —the ideal “my people” sort of place that some in the trade natter on about. There were always issues. Then my girlfriend commented from the other side of the table,” But that’s what your profession is all about? Isnt it? Huge diversity, but that people are people wherever you go? The problem with you is that you fall for your own BS!”
My friend and I looked at each other. How could we allow an outsider to attack our fellowship, even if she was correct?*
- This is a fictionalized account based on actual events and people.
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Sounds like it could be true, though. Where is this nirvana of which you speak?! 🤨
Somewhere over the rainbow, near gilligan’s, but close to Bali Ha’i.
haha!!! 😂
Is this case of the “grass is always greener on the other side?”
Yeah, in a way. It’s a sort of sick trope in anthro about “my people” – the people and place where you did fieldwork. I’ve been amused by it, and think it’s more than a bit Colonialist. but it’s a real thing, and I have it about the fieldwork that I;ve done, too – even thug my experiences were here in the North Eastern USA.
All worthwhile valuable experiences to learn of how other people live.
It’s true.. people are people wherever they are, but cultures certainly differ. I’ve found everyone is everywhere but in vastly differing numbers.
Great diversity, but one humanity.
I don’t know about that “my people” thing. “My people” are dogs. 😀
According to my dog, Max – “That’s because you have superior taste.”
Max, Bear says you are a dog of typical perceptiveness, typical for dogs and elusive for humans. Thank you!