reconstruction of the ethnographic field sites: mediating identities: case study of a bohra muslim...

Pergamon Women's Studies International Forum, Vol. 20, No. 4, pp. 505-515, 1997

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RECONSTRUCTION OF THE ETHNOGRAPHIC FIELD SITES: MEDIATING IDENTITIES: CASE STUDY OF A

BOHRA MUSLIM WOMAN IN LAMU (KENYA) 1

PARIN A. DOSSA Department of Anthropology and Sociology, Simon Fraser University, Burnaby,

British Columbia V5A 1S6, Canada

Synopsis - - The notion of the ethnographic field site as a bounded and discrete unit has come under increased scrutiny with some reaching the realization that anthropologists and their subjects of research form part of an interdependent word. A key concern identified is that demarcation of experiential knowledge of field from theoretical discourse of the academia has obscured and problematized the issue of multiple and translocal identities. Deconstruction of the process (fieldwork) and product (written account) of anthropological enterprise has, nevertheless, sustained the assumption that it is the anthropologists who are the quintessence of mobility, a status that makes them the omnipotent "seers." On the other hand, the people in the field, (the natives), are immobilized in settings where they are studied. This form of reification affects researched, Third World women the most, as their active engagement in the construction of multiple identities remains unnoticed. This paper engages in the debate over the reconstruction of the field, based on my indigenous research experiences among Ismaili Muslims in Western Canada and Bhora Muslims in Lamu (Kenya). These experiences are discussed in relation to multiple identities of a Bohra Muslim woman. © 1997 Elsevier Science Ltd

Trave l ing to Afr ica meant several trips to the heal th clinic. The cl inic provides immuniza t ion shots, ant i -malarial medica t ion and "hea l th tips for the tropical t raveler ." It is also the p lace where a sharp dis t inct ion be tween the tempera te West and the tropical Third Wor ld is made. The latter is const ructed in the image of a "d is - e a s e d " place where a t raveler f rom the West is advised to avoid " c o l d hors d ' o e u v r e s and d ips" at parties. Be suspicious o f salad dressings and foods conta in ing mayonnaise . Avoid salads and raw vege tab les and do not eat wa te rmelon - - it may have been injected with local water to increase the w e i g h t " (City o f Vancouver , 1991, p. 2 ) } With reference to the water, a pamphle t states: " T h e t raveler may drink tea, coffee, beer, internationally known soft drinks, bott led water (make sure you break the seal yourself) , and

I would like to acknowledge my gratitude to Social Science Humanities Research Council of Canada for sponsoring my trip to Lamu (Kenya). I am grateful to the reviewers and the editor for their valuable suggestions.

© 1997 Elsevier Science Ltd. All rights reserved.

coconut mi lk sa fe ly" (City o f Vancouver, 1991, emphas is mine). People in the Third World are depic ted as potent ial contaminators o f food and water. Wha t i f a Canadian ci t izen is going back h o m e to eat fresh fruits and vegetables and drink chlor ine-f ree water? This was one o f the reasons I dec ided to take a trip to Lamu. A nurse at the cl inic posed the question: "So , are you going for a ho l iday?" Af ter some hesitation, I replied: " N o ! It is not quite a holiday. I am going back h o m e for a while, to study. Actually, my h o m e is Canada. I am vis i t ing some friends and I want to do field work. I am an anthropol- og is t . " The nurse responded: "Oh! you are f rom Africa. But your ancestors must be f rom Ind ia?" " I was born in Uganda. I have never been to India ," I repl ied hesi tantly (personal communi - cation, May 2, 1993). I knew what the nurse was thinking about: " a b rown-sk inned Indian. H o w can she be f rom Afr ica? Did not the fi lm Mississippi Masala show that Afr ica was for Black Afr icans only? W h y do people never say that I am a Canadian? I am a lways referred to as Indo-Canadian. The hyphen insinuates the ques-

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tion "where are you from?" and beyond that the notion of not quite belonging. As Visweswaran (1994) states it:

Certainly the question "Where are you from?" is never an innocent one. Yet not all subjects have equal difficulty in replying. To pose a question of origin to particular subjects is to subtly pose a question of return, to challenge not only temporally, but geograph- ically, one's place in the present. For some- one who is neither fully Indian nor wholly American, it is a question that provokes a sudden failure of confidence, the fear of never replying adequately. (p. 115)

For an anthropologist, going "home" to study brings into sharp relief the question of identity and problematizes the clear-cut separation between a field site where ethnographic work takes place interactively with the subjects of research, and the academic setting, where field data is written up within the paradigms of West- ern theoretical discourse. The assumption sustained here is that it is the anthropologists who are the quintessence of mobility, a status that makes them the omnipotent "seers." On the other hand, the people in the field are immobilized in settings where they are studied (Appa- durai, 1992). This form of reification has affected women the most. From their conceptual invisibility in conventional ethnographies, women who are studied (Third World, ethnic) are conceptualized within a dichotomous, hier- archical order. As Mohanty (1991) has expressed it, Third World/ethnic women, read backward, are invariably compared to First World women, read progressive. Thus, "feminist scholarship, like most other kinds of scholarship, is not the mere production of knowledge about a certain subject. It is a directly political and discursive practice in that it is purposeful and ideological" (Mohanty, 1991, p. 53). Thus, deconstructing women's lives and recognizing their mobility calls into question the politically constructed boundary between the field and the home. This form of inquiry grows out of my own indigenous research experiences among Is-

3 4 maili Muslims- in Canada and Bohra Muslims in Lamu, East Africa. Like other Canadian Is- maili women, I was born and raised in East Africa and have made Canada my home. In such a setting, the ethnographic distinction between home and field is untenable. My research

then was prompted by the question of formation of multiple identities: How and under what circumstances are restrictive or expansive identities formulated?

My work focussing on Ismaili Muslims ap- pears elsewhere (Dossa, 1985, 1991, 1994) and until now, it has been a backdrop to my research experience in Lamu. Vancouver was the first site of my formal and more conventional field work conducted in the period 1983-1985. My research was prompted by the question: How is an immigrant community with a pronounced religious identity affected by migration into a secular state? The study showed that negotiation of material and social realities of life in a new environment take place through construction of multiple forms of identities, with gender and age as important variables. This insight, however, remained distant as conventional ethnography does not include a reflexive mode of "persons in research" (Estroff, 1981, p. 13). The top-down perception derived from more conventional forms of anthropological research was alienating. I started looking at my own community with the "foreign" eyes that the discipline, with its positivist orientation of em- bodying objective truth, offered. When I wrote my graduate dissertation, I was cautioned by my committee not to draw upon personal experiences or bring in situations that pertained to my family or kin. The phrase "I feel" was not to be used; I was instructed to write in the mode: "I think." My committee expressed reservations whether I would be able to conduct an objective study of my own community. I was, therefore, made to take an additional course on Canadian Aboriginals, with the hope that this kind of exposure would enable me to maintain intellec- tual distance from my community. Through the conventional tool of participant observation, I learned to keep my sentiments in check and ended up "translating" the Ismaili culture in the language of the discipline. The written product in the form of a dissertation (Dossa, 1985) served as a means through which I was initiated into the discipline.

The above situation was partially rectified when I conducted research that focused on the lives of elderly Ismailis in Calgary (1986-1988) and Edmonton (1989-1990). I conversed with elderly Ismailis, using a life history approach. Their stories about muted and fragmented identities in their new homeland in Canada was touching. Ismaili elderly talked about their fear

Ethnographic Field Sites 507

of being abandoned and their experiences of loneliness and isolation, accentuated by the realization that their way of life would not be transmitted to the younger generations. It was at this point that I realized the importance of ad- dressing the issue of plural and multilayered identity status. Were the Ismaili Canadian Mus- lims part of the Islamic world, the Asian world, or the African world? If we belonged to all three traditions, what was our status in Canada? While in Uganda, we were officially referred to as Asians; in Canada, we are labeled as East Indians or Indo-Canadians. My research work then began with the following question: Do multiple origins connote fragmented and con- tested identities, or can there be a space for fostering plural identity status? Being born and raised in Uganda, I had hoped that the formation of my identity would include, at least, part of African heritage. This was not the case, as being brown (Asian) in Uganda meant living an en- claved and segregated social and cultural exist- ence. This state of affairs was largely brought about by colonialist policies, which led to struc- turally demarcated forms of living for Africans, Asians, and Europeans. I came to Canada know- ing next to nothing about the African way of life; my understanding of the Asian and Ismaili Muslim tradition was acquired experientially, through exposure to family life and religious rituals and practices. In schools, we were taught subjects pertaining to European civilization, culture, literature, art, and history. The medium of instruction was of course English. Gender was a non-issue. Women's lives and experiences did not form part of any subject.

My trip to Lamu, East Africa, constituted part of an attempt to understand the question of gendered identity. I visited Lamu twice, in the winter of 1990 and summer of 1993. I wished to go back in time to discover conditions of life that were prevalent in East Africa before the impact of modernization and colonialism were felt with full force. Lamu symbolizes elements of precolonial moral economy in which the per- vasive language ordering social relations is that of paternalism and community rather than class and nation (Glassman, 1995, p. xiii). Research experience with the Bohra Muslim women, a kindred community to the Ismailis, meant going back in time and rediscovering a way of life as I had known it as a child. Like the Bohras, I grew up speaking Kiswahili and Gujerati. The Ismaili and Bohra Muslims form part of the

Shia sect of Islam and adhere to the doctrine of Imamat, spiritual leadership. Both groups fol- lowed a common line of Imamat until the time of Imam al-Mustansir bi'Ilah. After his death, in the 12th century A.D., the two groups separated over the issue of succession.

A PROFILE OF LAMU

The distinctive feature of Lamu is that it is the oldest Swahili town in Kenya and the only coastal settlement that has retained its original structure. The term Swahili does not stand for any single group. As Strobel (1979) has expressed it, "Despite centuries of settlement and considerable scholarship about East African Coast, there is no agreement about how to identify the people who live there" (p. 2).

The variable usage of the term is grounded within different historic periods. For example, during the colonial period, Swahili implied a non-native status. Since independence, to be a Swahili is to emphasize one's African native heritage, aflSrming an advantageous status (Strobel, 1979, p. 3). Given this variability, Strobel suggests the adoption of ascriptive categories that members themselves adopt. Thus, the focus is on the processes by which bound- aries between ethnic groups are maintained. Al- though the Swahili people on the coast are Mus- lims, Strobel does not use the term for all Muslim women, since Mombasa, like Lamu, contains Asian Muslims who belong to a different Shia sect and whose cultural patterns are different. According to my observations, the Bohras do not consider themselves to be Swa- hill. They specifically use the term to refer to the local Sunni Muslims. An understanding of fluid identities on the coast and in Lamu calls for some background information.

Distinct features that delineate the East Af- rican coastal people are their adoption of Islam, their common language and culture, and their linkage to an international 2000-year-old mercantile system that covered the northern Indian Ocean from the Red Sea to China and Indone- sia. Each coastal town is a unit in a complex system of production and exchange (Middleton, 1992). Commercial networks invariably give rise to sporadic political alliances and rivalries and call for fluid identities (Glassman, 1995). A coastal town is marked by a Koranic school, a market place, coffee houses, mosques, tombs,

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and distinct architecture. Lamu is a part of this complex network (Allen, 1986; Boyd, 1980; Ghaidan, 1975; Prins, 1971). This building tradition is traced back to at least twelfth century, and the place is specially noted for its compact townscape. The compact townscape contains a sea front and a bazaar street, Usita Wa Mui, which runs through the length of the town, parallel to and immediately behind the sea front. The street is lined on both sides with two- or three-storied houses and shop buildings, form- ing a center of commerce. Many of these buildings are occupied by Bohra merchants who set- tled in Lamu in the middle of nineteenth century. Another part of town known as Mko- mani forms a shaded and quiet enclave built in the eighteenth century. This area contains 200- year-old stone buildings. Lamu's townscape is relatively simple. The buildings are constructed of coral limestone and mangrove poles, ideal for a tropical climate. Coral is light and strong and resists erosion from exposure to rain and tropical sun. The houses are inward-looking with open courtyards that provide daylight and ventilation. The town's narrow and elongated shape blends into a network of streets that allow rainwater and waste water to run down to the sea along inclined alleyways. Narrow winding pe- destrian walkways act as wind tunnels, bringing in a cool breeze. The town has its own rhythm, determined largely by the culture and religious practices of its people. The shops open early in the morning, close for several hours in the af- ternoon, and reopen in the evening. The evening hour is the busiest and most popular for women who shop or visit during this time. At noon on Fridays and on festive occasions, flocks of men dressed in white overalls, kanju, go to the Ju- maa mosque at the north end of the town. Women pray at home. On Fridays some of the women go to the mosque and pray in a separate area (Donley-Reid, 1984; Prins, 1971; Shah, 1981).

Critical features of the townscape of Lamu are the flexible usage of space and sexual asym- metry. While women veiled in buibui, full- length black robes, move around in the town for certain activities, like visiting at the hospital or at home, they do not gather in the public space except on certain designated occasions and during specific times, such as weddings, deaths, and festivals. For example, during the celebra- tion of the birth of the Prophet Muhammed, men keep away from the beach in the evening.

For a couple of hours, the beach remains an exclusively women's territory. Gender-specific activities do not necessarily involve uniform categories of women. When I participated in women's activities, I moved around in two distinct groups: Swahili Sunni Muslims, of which there were many groups, and Bohra Shia Mus- lims, primarily one group because of the small number and middle-class affiliation.

Distinct social, cultural, and architectural features of Lamu are attributed to its isolation. Lamu was bypassed during the construction of the Ugandan railway, which links the coastal and neighboring town of Mombasa to Lake Victoria. In 1901, when Mombasa became the main seaport, Lamu was relegated to a minor role with a small local harbor. The caravan trade that had been in operation for centuries and was the only means of transport from the interior, was put out of business by the railroad, almost overnight. With no trade and agriculture, the coast stagnated in 1920s and Lamu drifted into obscurity (Mbote, 1986; Ngari, 1986; Siravo & Pulver, 1981). A cursory glance at the develop- ments taking place in Kenya at this time, infra- structure of transportation, corporate agriculture, cultivation of cash crops of coffee and tea, all linked to a global economy serving the in- terests of the industrialized capitalistic world, reveals that Lamu's obscurity was that of not being enveloped in the exploitative modes of rapid and uncontrolled development. What is not taken into account is that the local people did not perceive the town as having drifted into obscurity. For them, the town's architecture, with its compact town planning, ecological ad- aptation to the tropical climate, a thriving culture and way of life, and practice of Islam, were all conducive to maintaining an integrated traditional form of life. Local anecdotes of life in Lamu up to the later 1960s indicate a thriving subsistence base, derived from agriculture, live- stock, and trade in mangrove poles, fish, bananas, mangoes, and rice. 5

For the local people, the most crucial part of life is a fluid and dynamic community, constituted and reconstituted in varying situations. As Glassman (1995), Strobel (1979), and Middle- ton (1992) have noted, community life is forged within the crucible of social interaction that arises from the negotiation of historical and material realities of daily life. It is in this context that everyday production and reproduction of social relations take place. Thus, any one


East African might identify with a multiplicity of communities and enjoy the associated situational flexibility. However, documentation of this aspect in the literature focuses primarily on men. As Strobel (1979) states it, "To write about women on the Swahili coast is to probe the history of the inarticulate and invisible" (p. 4).

As the narrative of Fatima below, a Bohra Muslim woman will show, women in Lamu are engaged in construction and reconstruction of their identities, a process that is facilitated by the compact townscape of Lamu together with flexible usage of space. Although women are excluded from political and formal religious positions, they exercise considerable power in fostering kinship relationships. They play an important role in the organization of weddings, funerals, and ritual celebrations during the month of fasting, Ramadan, and festivals of Idd and Maulidi, Birth of Prophet Muhammed. These activities are planned from households that are important bases of moral and material support (Donley-Reid, 1984; Guennec, 1980; Strobel, 1979). Thus, women's engagement in dynamic community life of situational flexibility and negotiation of multiple identities is no less than that of men.

In the last two decades, Lamu has been subject to a discourse on conservation or late in- dustrialization. Its impact on social relations has been felt in terms of renegotiation of multiple identities that has formed an integral part of life of women and men in Lamu. Women' s lives are exceedingly intricate. Class, ethnicity, and religious affiliation are critical variables that deter- mine women's articulation with the larger society. In spite of distinctions made along the lines of class and ethnicity, sexual segregation has fostered a fluid female subculture, an important manifestation of which is the wedding.

In relation to Muslim women of Mombasa, Strobel observes the following:

In sexually segregated Mombasa, weddings have been primarily women's business and thus highlight the role or women in develop- ing a Swahili culture drawn from the cultural repertoire of people of both slave and free ancestry. Over the past nine decades weddings have mirrored this process of integra- tion and have acted as a vehicle for it. (Stro- bel, 1979, p. 8)

Rituals and weddings highlight important processes of change initiated by women. However, women's public roles have not been acknowl- edged. This is partly because such roles are few and far between, and entail an intricate process of reformulation of identities. It is this aspect that I wish to document in relation to the diasporic location of a Bohra woman, Fatima. Fatima's life and work in Lamu centers on local, home-based health clinic. This clinic symbolizes processes of change and the negotiation of gender identity of a minority woman. Some background information on conservation will provide the necessary context.

DISCOURSE ON CONSERVATION

The local way of life has been subject to dis- ruption, mainly because of a growth in population and the introduction of projects by the government of Kenya and international development agencies. These projects have brought in their wake an influx of people from the mainland. In 1975, the population of Lamu was 7,406. In 1986, the population had risen to 12,000 and the current population is estimated to be 15,000 (Lamu Town Planning, 1990). The government ban on the trade of mangrove poles and the requirement to obtain a license for commercial fishing constitute other modes of dis- ruption for the local people. An additional factor is the steady flow of tourists. In 1985, 11,000 tourists visited the island. Half of the tourists came from Western Europe, 16% came from the US. and Canada, and 25% came from Kenya (Mbote, 1986; Siravo & Pulver, 1981).

Overpopulation has placed Lamu under enormous pressure. Limited natural resources and the compact nature of the town cannot accommodate a large population. A significant number of people have built mud houses. Over- crowding has given rise to poor ventilation as the flow of light and air is blocked by the addition of storeys to existent homes. Spaces between the houses are used as rubbish dumps. In the wet season, rainwater stagnates along narrow paths and alleys, creating ideal conditions for malaria. The congestion of people and houses has led to the contamination of town wells. Yet it is Lamu's unspoiled environment of sand beaches, cultural life, and traditional architecture that continues to attract tourists and the interest of the government of Kenya and

510 PARIN A. DOSSA

international organizations, such as urban plan- ners, and conservationists. The stated goal of outside agencies is to turn Lamu into a "livable urban centre" and a cultural and tourist asset for Kenya (Mbote, 1986). This has given rise to a discourse on conservation, explicated in relation to a delicate balance between preservation and progress (Mbote, 1986).

Local people's involvement in conservation projects is minimal. Government departments set up to plan and implement policies on conservation draw upon mainland Kenyans, the majority of whom are Christians with little knowledge of the history and way of life of the local people. It is estimated that public officials and civil servants lease 30% of the residential homes in Lamu (Lamu Town Planning, 1990). Among these, a sizable number are mainland Christians. Many women from the mainland have moved into Lamu to take up service jobs with the government: typists, secretaries, and nurses are the most common. Nevertheless, the local people are not passive recipients of change. It has not engulfed their lives and forced them into the role of bystanders. Their resistance and involvement in the process of change is more in terms of practical activities. The significance of these activities is that they are anchored in a body of practical knowledge as opposed to a formal system of knowledge.

A telling example of indigenous reconstitution of the discourse on conservation is found in the area of health care. Lamu presently has one 33-bed hospital, built in 1990 by Saudi Arabia. The hospital, subsidized by the government of Kenya, operates on scant resources. There is acute shortage of medication, supplies, and equipment ("The big drug shortage," 1993). A patient visiting the hospital is asked to bring paper since the hospital has no means of record- ing medical cases. Shortage of drugs and supplies is a common problem facing Kenya. In its coverage of the issue, the Standard newspaper, under the title "The Big Drug Shortage," (1993, p. 2) stated the following: "Patients are also ordered to buy their own syringes and medicine if they are to be treated at the hospital."

As a complement to the hospital in Lamu, five private clinics were established in the period between 1990 and 1993. Unlike the hospital, the clinics are better equipped with drugs. Prior to 1990, there was only one private clinic. None of these clinics are run by the locals, though three of them are operated by Muslims

from the mainland. All are male medical practitioners except one: Fatima, a midwife-nurse. Her practice is run from home.

There are also a number of traditional male healers, each known for his specific strengths. All the healers operate from home, but are also available in public spaces for consultation. Both the medical practitioners and healers are licensed by two different government departments, the former by the department of health and the latter by the department of social and cultural services. There are no female healers other than birth attendants. Some of the medical practitioners frown upon local healers, dismiss- ing their remedies as superstitious. The only exception made is for bone-setting and treat- ment of certain kinds of paralysis. Local people, however, do not advocate the superiority of one system or the other. Instead, they utilize one or the other, separately or in combination, according to circumstances.

A visit to a practitioner and or a healer constitutes a minor component of the overall care and support provided by the existing network of kin and neighbors. Crucially important for the local people is the integrity of these female- centered networks. Change and sustenance of traditional practices are both accommodated within these networks. Local people work out the implications of combining development and conservation by drawing selectively on available resources. In doing so, they reconstitute the discourse on conservation, based on situational knowledge and negotiation of multiple identities. A poignant example of this process comes from the work of Fatima.

RECONSTITUTION OF MULTIPLE IDENTITIES: CASE OF FATIMA

Fatima is a Bohra Muslim whose ancestors have been living in Lamu from the middle of the nineteenth century. 6 The Bohras, like other South Asians, are from present-day India and Pakistan. The Bohras are never counted as part of the coastal or mainland people, but are re- garded as being distinct. They are referred to as "Asians" by the government. In spite of the fact that the Bohras and other Asians in Kenya hold citizenship status, they are viewed with a considerable amount of ambiguity by Black Afri- cans and coastal Muslims. The Asians are not indigenous but neither are they outsiders. Their


contributions to social and economic development of East Africa have been overlooked because they form part of the colonial legacy whereby the Asians were left in a state of limbo. As Gregory stated:

Some early administrators foresaw advan- tages in the Afr icans ' association with Asians, but during the years of the British administration there emerged a colonialist school that assumed deve lopment was mainly a European phenomenon. East Af- rica, the colonialists believed, was being de- veloped primarily through a combination of government direction, missionary instruction, and settler enterprise. They tended to ignore or deprecate the roles of the other communities, including that of the Asians, and to regard nearly all changes introduced by the Europeans as beneficial to the Afri- cans . . . . (Gregory, 1993, p. 2).

When Lamu experienced a period of decline in the middle of twenthieth century, many Bohra families left the town for Mombasa. In 1993, there were 10 Bohra families in Lamu with close-knit kinship and marriage affiliations. Close ties are maintained with the community in Mombasa through the exchange of information and regular visits. The bus ride from Lamu to Mombasa is 8 hours.

The mainstay of the Bohra community is the family, and for women this forms a locale for the acquisition of status. The interrelated roles of wife and mother are crucial for the identity of a Bohra woman. While women nurture family life, men are engaged in business. The Bohras have their own mosque, utilized by both men and women. Bohra women dress differently then Swahili women, defined contextually in this paper as coastal Sunni Muslim women of Lamu, in that they never wear black or cover their faces completely. Their attire consists of a long, l ight-colored skirt and a top with a hooded, stringed scarf. Facial features are clearly discernible. Unlike a Swahili woman, a Bohra woman can be identified in public. Also, divorce is not common among the Bohras, in contrast to the Swahilis, among whom serial monogamy is common.

Fatima, a practising Bohra, lives an atypical life. She is 60 years old, divorced, and without any children. Fatima is a midwife and a nurse by profession and moved to Lamu 5 years ago

to set up a private health clinic. Because of her age and the government policy of Africaniza- tion, whereby Black Africans are given priority over Asians and Europeans with Kenya citizenship, Fatima found it hard to continue her profession in her hometown of Mombasa. It is not unusual for potential retirees to come to Lamu, where the nonindustrial, low technology environment and informal setting allows for greater flexibility.

Fatima has a multipurpose clinic, located in her large three-bedroom house. One bedroom has been set aside for overnight patients or guests; the second bedroom, with a "doctor 's bed," is used as a checking room. Fatima occu- pies the third bedroom. The living room is si- multaneously a waiting room. Multipurpose usage of space extends into multipurpose practice. Fatima is a primary health care practitioner, offering the services of a midwife and the self- learned arts of reflexology and sihatsu. Her patients represent a cross section of local people as well as tourists from the Western world.

The one group that does not use her services is the Bohra community itself. Explanation given by members of her community is that her charges are too high. Fatima's rates are not fixed, and her fees are based on the economic situation of her patients. Fatima is aware of this and repeatedly stated that she is not "expensive." She claims that she charges more to the rich so that she can charge less to the poor. She also collects money to assist local Swahili people, that is, coastal Sunni Muslims. Once a month she takes rice, flour, and oil to selected families.

Fatima's status in Lamu is marginal. Indig- enous Swahili women regard her as an outsider. Fatima's numerous requests to address Swahili women on the subject of women's health and status have not come to fruition. Being a Bohra, Fatima does not attend the Sunni mosque, A! Riyadh, which some of the Swahili women visit on Fridays. Her occasional participation in the events that Swahili women regard as most significant, wedding, idd celebrations, Prophet Muhammed's birthday, is only by invitation and never as an integral part of the Swahili women 's networks. Within the Bohra community as well, Fatima has a special nongendered status. She is the only Bohra woman in Lamu who has a profession. Although she takes part in all the Bohra festive occasions and the special observation of Muharram, commemorating the mar-

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t rydom of Imam Husain, she is not perceived in the role of a traditional Bohra woman. Bohra women look upon Fat ima as the "bearer of international news." One way in which people can tell that Fat ima is home is through her radio, tuned at a high pitch on an international news channel. The Bohra community refer to Fatima as a nurse: her professional role as a midwife is underplayed as Bhora women go the hospital for birth of their babies. The Bohra community, like the rest of the Muslims in Lamu, does not resort to reflexology. It is a practice that is foreign and expensive for them.

There are two groups of Swahilis, Sunni Muslims of Lamu, who use Fa t ima ' s services. The first one is comprised of very poor people who are treated for common ailments like a cold, cough, or diarrhea, and common diseases like malaria, infections, and diabetes. These people, who live in mud houses and more often than not have only one meal a day, are charged minimal or no fees. Fat ima regards this service to the poor as an important part of her practice. As she explained it:

This is my service for the local people. I often teach them how they can use banana skins as plates and a banana leaf as tissue paper to wipe their chi ldren 's running noses. When I see bins in an upright position, I say "Turn these upside down. Otherwise they wil l hold water where mosqui toes wil l breed." I teach them to make brooms from local materials.

Fat ima takes special pride in the fact that she taught some young girls how to use cloth rem- nants during menstruation. Fa t ima ' s role as a health-care provider extends into the community.

A few wealthy Swahili families turn to Fa- t ima for special services. Fat ima is the only licensed midwife in Lamu. As most of the babies are born in the hospital, Fat ima is rarely called upon to provide her services. A major factor here is that there is minimal cost incurred at the hospital. Occasionally, however, Fat ima is called upon to serve as a midwife. A Swahili business woman (there are only a handful of such women in Lamu) called upon Fat ima to attend to the birth of her second child. This woman stayed at Fa t ima ' s house for 3 days at a cost of Shs. 2.000 (US$50). An extensive inter- view with the mother revealed that she was

attracted to Fa t ima ' s service because of a combination of her competence, care, and spiritual- ity. Fa t ima encouraged and suppor ted this woman to breastfeed her baby and provided her with information on nutrition. This woman per- ceives Fat ima 's role as a midwife to be critical because less women in Lamu are nursing their babies and are opting instead for imported for- mula of powdered milk. Other families resort to Fa t ima 's practice for consultation on chronic pain, high blood pressure, and diabetes.

Fa t ima ' s practice of reflexology is entirely geared toward the tourist clientele who come to the preindustrial setting of Lamu to relax. Re- flexology offers them a means for the temporary elimination of built-up stress and tensions. The tourists pay about Shs. 2,000 (US$50), high by local standards, but low by Western standards. Other than monetary reasons, tourists are attracted by the personal qualities that Fatima incorporates into her practice. In the words of the tourists, as documented in a note pad that Fat ima keeps in the living/waiting room:

It has been an unforgettable experience for me.

My eyes have become open to my body. I have become wise in the art of healing. Three months tension has been released in one and a half hours. My body has become rejuvenated. Fat ima reveals the serenity of the East. She took away my tensions and worries. For the first time, I felt close to nature rather than competing against it. Today, I realized that human body is more than bone and muscle. It has been a soothing experience for me. I am beginning to live the natural way. I have experienced a resurgence of strength, combined with calmness and peace. My inner feeling of stress and tension has been fully eradicated. I cannot think of a more peaceful way of recovering from the tension and stress of the west. Fat ima is such a peaceful woman.

Fat ima has mastered the western art of reflexology and incorporated her personal attributes of peace, serenity, and care into this practice. Fa t ima ' s approach can best be understood contextually in relation to the negotiation of multiple identities. Through her strategic location of


being neither an insider nor an outsider, Fatima is engaged in the task of reconstituting her identity, not in an abstract way but in terms of situational knowledge and practice.

To begin with, Fatima herself is a displaced person. She was compelled to leave Mombasa, as she could not practice nursing there. In Lamu, she has a marginal status within her own community. She is viewed as a professional and not in the role of a woman. Moreover, her professional services as a midwife and a nurse are not in high demand. Her inclusion in cere- monial and religious events provides Fatima with some space to play a role as the bearer of international news among Bohra women. Within the Swahili community, Fatima is engaged at a grass roots level. She assists the disadvantaged, both through provision of formal services as a health-care provider and informally through tapping local resources. Her connections with the well-to-do families are diffused. Only a few families, especially those who are appealed by her holistic approach of combining knowledge and compassion, attend her clinic.

Through her work with the tourists, Fatima has established an intricate link between the local setting of Lamu and the western world. The fees that she collects from her tourist clients provide for her upkeep but are also used for some of the local impoverished people. Fatima is keenly aware of conservation of local resources. She is an advocate of breastfeeding and using local materials like banana skins, as opposed to imported substitutes. Her adoption of the Western technique of reflexology is not wholesale but constitutes the construction of a broader and more holistic framework.

In expanding the horizons of a Western technique to incorporate local characteristics, Fa- tima has attempted to define the discourse on conservation in her own terms - - terms that validate local experiences. Being acutely aware of the western image of Third World women as being oppressed, she avails herself of every opportunity to impart the following message to her western patients: Do I look like a woman who is oppressed? When questioned by a tourist as to how people in Lamu clean themselves without toilet paper, Fatima squatted on the floor to demonstrate the usage of water.

From her compounded marginal status, Fa- tima provides an example of the complex and subtle ways in which a woman in Lamu can

negotiate multiple identities, in contexts that may involve contradictions and compromises. When she talks to the European tourists, she presents herself as a Muslim woman not a Bo- hra. Her conversations in English are geared toward reversing the common western image of Muslim women as being oppressed. When she converses with the Swahili women, using Kiswahili, she addresses issues of women's op- pression. For example, she urges parents to send their daughters for higher education. Her conversations in Gujerati with the Bohra Muslim women, encourage greater participation in the public sphere of life: she organizes workshops on hygiene, health, nutrition, and diet. For the tourists, Fatima is a Muslim women. For the Swahilis, she is a Bohra woman with distinct Indian heritage and different (Shia) interpretation of Islam. For the Bohras, she is a professional woman, with contact outside the local communities. Underlying all these roles is her expanded professional role, which gives her the leeway to move into different communities.

The most intricate part of Fatima's life and work is that she is engaged in negotiation of multiple identities. By coming to Lamu to es- tablish a niche from which she can continue her work professionally, clinic, and informally, home/clinic, and immediate community, she has empowered herself. It is from this stance that she seeks to negotiate material and historical realities of her life. As I have noted, she speaks with many voices, using different languages. With members of her own community, she speaks Gujerati; with the Swahilis she converses in Kiswahili, and with the tourists she talks in English. If the work of Fatima and other women is taken note of and validated, it would go a long way in highlighting local women's initiatives along the lines of reconstitution of identities during the time of major change, introduced through the discourse on conservation.

CONCLUSION

The question of fieldwork as a bounded and discrete unit has been addressed in this paper in relation to my research experience in Lamu. My quest for multilayered identity led me toward Fatima, a marginalized and diasporic Bohra woman, whose strategic location is multi- stranded. She has a local base in Lamu, but is not looked upon as a local woman, in spite of

514 PARXN A. DOSSA

be ing a M u s l i m and a third genera t ion Kenyan . With in the Bohra communi ty , she does not have a gende red role o f mo the r or wife. Yet, Fa t ima is e n g a g e d in the p roce s s o f nego t i a t ing n e w spaces, a s t ra tegy that has a l lowed her to par- t ia l ly r e c o n s t i t u t e he r i den t i t y a long m a n y strands. Far f rom looking inward to es tabl ish her status as a Bohra " w o m a n " and a Kenyan , F a t i m a ' s role and work are partial ly geared toward es tab l i sh ing l inkages that she feels are vital in the matr ix o f connec t ions . Fa t ima re- pea ted ly i n fo rm ed me that she is an interna- t ional person , c o m b i n i n g the East and the West. For me personal ly , my mee t ing wi th Fa t ima reva lor ized m y search for a mul t i layered identity. In b lurr ing the boundar ies be tween profes- s ional pract ice and the local communi ty , tradi- t ion and change , and h o m e and work, and by m o v i n g in to m u l t i p l e i d e n t i t i e s e x p r e s s e d th rough her usage o f different languages , Fa- t ima has b e c o m e a mirror image o f a person w h o occup ies mul t ip le spaces. F a t i m a ' s case s h o w s that conven t iona l e thnographic cons t ruc- t ion o f d is tance and di f ference is problemat ic . I f ind it hard to pe rce ive Fa t ima as be ing conf ined wi th in a d iscre te unit, k n o w n as " t h e f ie ld ."

Mul t i s t randed, plural, and expans ive ident i ty canno t be con ta ined wi thin a b o u n d e d field site or an us / them dist inct ion.

E N D N O T E S

1. A shorter version of this paper was presented at the Canadian Anthropology Society Conference, May, 1994, Vancouver, BC.

2. This observation is not merely based on the information in the pamphlet. It has been documented in Vaughan's (1991) work on the biomedical construction of Africa and the African as being diseased.

3. For illustrative accounts on Ismaili Muslims refer to A. Nanji (1978), The Nizari Ismaili Tradition in the Indo- Pakistan Subcontinent, and F. Daftary (1990), The Is- mailis: Their History and Doctrine.

4. A comprehensive account of the history and doctrine of the Bohra Muslims is found in: A. S. M. H. Tabatabati (1977) Shiaite Islam (Trans. Sayed Hossein Nasr).

5. Examples of anecdotes related to me by people in La- muare as follows: There used to be stacks of bananas piled up in the market place. There was abundance of food. When we launched a new dhow, the whole town would be invited for a feast. We used to get fresh rice. When cooked, it would smell so good, one felt like eating it. We used to get plenty of fish. During weddings and occasions of idd ul Fitr (Islamic festival, following 30 days of fasting during the Muslim month of Ra- madan), we used to have huge feasts. No one ever went hungry in this town.

6. I met Fatima in Lamu in the summer of 1993. On my first day to the town, I visited the shop of a Bohra merchant.

Upon discovering that I was on a research trip, he said, "You must meet Fatima. She is a midwife/nurse. Come back here tomorrow and I will walk you to her house." I asked him if he wanted to check with her first. He said, "No need to do this. Fatima will take you as part of the 'family'." The next day as we approached Fatima's house, we heard the sound of a radio. He said, "This is how you can tell if Fatima is home." My first meeting with Fatima last for 2 1/2 hours. In response to my question as to how long she was living in Lamu, Fatima started telling me the story of her life. After this meeting, I met fatima two or three times a week over a period of 6 weeks, after which she left for Mombasa for a visit. Data included in this article comes from formal meetings with Fatima as well as informal conversations that took place as we walked around the town, sat in cafes, and visited places and people.

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