Adventures in Fieldwork Part 1

photo by Shari Burke

Adventures in Fieldwork Part 1

When I started my PhD studies at the university in Fairbanks, my original intention was to learn about the ideology of motherhood in Inupiaq culture. I’d just done my MA research on the same topic with white, suburban women and I was interested to see what was different and what was the same. I knew this would entail fieldwork in a village, if I could work it out with some residents of a village. I was open as to the exact location. When the new Inupiaq teacher arrived and named me after her sister, it seemed reasonable to try to work with her in her village. She was excited about this, so I proceeded in that direction. My advisor was all for it, as there was almost no work published about the area, which I will just call ‘Village’ here. She advised me to plan for a preliminary trip to Village to try to make contacts and set things up for a longer stay in future, and to apply for a particular grant to fund this trip. I worked with my teacher and her husband on the plan and budget.

I applied for and received the grant to go to fish camp for three weeks in the summer.  I would fly to Village, and we would go on a boat across to the mainland and then by 4-wheeler to camp.  I was excited about the prospect, but nervous about doing something like that.  It was far different than anything I had ever done in my life.  I gave my friends the money they said they needed for gas and oil and I shipped food to Village.  They had gone back there when the semester was over and were preparing for my arrival.  They were also planning something I did not know about—at least right away.

photo by Shari Burke

Our friends had kicked the booze in the past, but the stress of the year in Fairbanks had driven them to start drinking again and things were kind of weird when they were drunk. About 4 days before I was to leave, I got a phone call asking me to plan on bringing several cases of beer and large jugs of wine with me—not the small bottles, they emphasized—the big ones.  Village was a damp village-you could bring alcohol in but you could not buy it in town. My nervousness ballooned into near panic.  Was I really expected to travel from Fairbanks to Anchorage to Village with cases of beer and jugs of wine as my luggage?  Did they think that I would feel good about going to a very remote and inaccessible place where there would be guns, knives, strangers, and lots of booze?  But if I didn’t go, I’d have to pay back the grant and some of that money was gone already!  And what about their feelings?  Could I actually tell them that I was scared to go with them because they’d be drinking?  When my advisor invited me to her home for tea and a chat before I was to leave, I told her about the situation and she was very alarmed. She did not come right out and say, ‘Don’t go.’ but she strongly suggested I should not put myself in that situation. Her husband was also on my committee and he called me later that day, telling me that Fiona (my advisor, not her real name) had said that I was aware of the dangers of sexual assault in such situations (I was). He was also strongly suggesting that I not make the trip. I talked it over with Bill, who was also worried and I decided I was not going to go to fish camp. I needed a new plan, because I knew they would not be able to give me back the grant money I’d already given them. Things were also complicated by the fact that they had no phone and to get in touch with them, I had to call the radio station and have them broadcast a message to my teacher so she could then call me from a pay phone. 

I did this and told them that I was not going to bring booze with me and I was not going to fish camp. They were disappointed, and I think they felt bad.  There was relief all around when I managed to change my ticket and make plans to spend a week in town, trying to meet people.  I told them they could keep the oil and gas money if I could stay at their house and we’d call it rent.  Things were back on track.