the difficulty in writing-up

So, I have been back from my research for about two months now. The first month, I, unfortunately allowed myself to get swiftly caught back up in my life here in Edinburgh. And I love Edinburgh. I love my friends here, I love living in this city, I even love the fact that it's late-July and it's it's easily fleece or sweater weather at this point. But writing up... I have been avoiding that.

Not really sure why I am on here writing about it, because truthfully, I am not a big fan of the "blog". I started this to allow my parents and close friends a way to keep tabs on me while I was away. And now that I am back, I read over what I read and just shake my head. This blog, while partially truthful, is also very editted. I felt it had to be to keep people more at ease while I was away. Not that things were dreadful and as I have said before, DR Congo gets a bad wrap. But there were also incidents that were best left unmentioned or unsaid there. You'd have to either be there to understand them OR have a good enough writer to explain them without confusion. And I am not that good of a writer unfortunately.

But writing up now, I find it terribly ironical. Something I wrote about last week in my journal, as I was trying to get a bit of work done. Probably shouldn't share it, but I will.

*** 19 July 2005
More should be written about where and how research is written up AFTER returning from the field. It’s a Tuesday morning and I find myself sitting in Starbuck’s with my friend Sara (we were in need of a change of environment), running through my tapes from the field--- journals, music from the wedding I attended, interviews, etc. As I look out the windows here in the upstairs of Starbucks on the Royal Mile, I see a woman in the building across the street leaning out the window and doing a bit of people watching herself. However, my mind, memory and ears are full of some of the music from the wedding I attended in Goma. I can picture the choir up in front of the church as they sing and dance, their lungs full of song. All dressed alike in their pea-green skirts, pants and shirts. On the tape, I hear Virginé lean over to explain the song to me as it is all in Swahili.

So where do people write-up? What is their environment? How do they recap their moments from the field to put their thoughts, knowledge or material down onto paper to share with others? Cafés seem to be a popular place around the world--- according to J.K. Rowling, a café here in Edinburgh is where a bit of Harry Potter's story was written and look at it today. But thinking of Harry here in Edinburgh is possibly more conceivable than thinking of nationalism among Zambian’s with Asian desent, or prostitution among women in Senegal, or the reintegration for women back into their communities who have been sexually abused and raped due to the conflict areas and war zones they find themselves in. So… in an attempt to take me back two months (which I can’t believe it’s truly been two months since I was in the DRC), I have taken a moment to listen to one of the three songs I listened to while I was in Goma. You’ve Got Me by Roots and Eryka Badu--- it was one of the only songs I would listen to when listening to my “comfort” music. It takes me to my room in the Lusi house, the sounds of Lake Kivu crashing up against the volcanic rock shoreline next to the house, journaling next to candlelight as the electricity had gone out for the night, the sounds of that one mosquito that buzzed around my face and ears night after night within my mosquito net, even takes me back to the lighting in my bathroom there--- the dimness that it was--- as I would try and hand wash my clothes but not be able fully get them rinsed as the water always seemed dirtier from having rinsed them.

What is my point here? How we can claim to write about such topics in such obscure places, like the comfort of our rooms or libraries? Writing about Africa from the comforts of Edinburgh or London? Sitting in our cafés with our lattes and teas, as those we are writing about find themselves in a completely different circumstances, environments, etc. Is this another hierarchy of north over south, that we think with a few weeks or months of spending time in those environments, that simply enables us to return to our home environments and portray or illustrate the societies or circumstances there which they live in day-to-day... and which we only visit? ***

Maybe it would have been better to stay in my environment there, to see things on a day-to-day basis, to keep focus on the reality of the situation there so maybe the reality would be seen in my dissertation as well. I don't know. But what I do know is that I find it rather delusional to be writing up from the comfort of my room, or a coffee shop, or even the library right now on such a topic which evolves around a situation and lives miles away. And it's their story that matters, not my own. But yet, I am in my own comfort zone when writing about them---- maybe if I was in their comfort zone, I would see a bit more of the reality of the situation.

I have also been wanting to post my pictures to share with people, but I also do not want them to come across in the wrong manner. Africa is strong in it's own regard, much stronger then credit it is given. While I can incapture the environment's and setting's which my photos were taken in, I am not sure how to post them and be able to do the same thing for those who see them. And I wouldn't want to do anything BUT to allow others that same opportunity; to see that environment, even if only in your head because otherwise you will never see the picture for what it is.

So until I figure all of this out, I'll wait. I'll continue to write, shuffling words here and there, not properly giving or rather getting justice to where it is deserved, but trying nonetheless. Frustration, I would imagine is all part of the process. Or I am hoping, at this point...