‘I Can't Eat That, It's Purple’: a Geography Field Course in Vanuatu and Fiji

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Geographical Research

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March 2006

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44(1):17–27

doi:10.1111/j.1745-5871.2006.00357.x

Blackwell Publishing Ltd

Original Article

John Connell, ‘I Can’t Eat That, It’s Purple’

‘

I Can’t Eat That, It’s Purple

’: a Geography Field Course in Vanuatu and Fiji

JOHN CONNELL,

School of Geosciences, University of Sydney, NSW 2006, Australia. Email: [email protected]

Received 12 November 2004; Revised 3 August 2005; Accepted 10 August 2005

Abstract

A month-long field course in the Pacific island states of Vanuatu and Fiji focused ondevelopment issues, involving lectures, seminars and much informal interaction.Students completed daily journals as a means of learning, a form of self-assessmentof learning, a way of evaluating their participation in the course and their percep-tion of its value. Journal themes reflected an evolution from unsettling rhetoricalquestions towards notions of discovery, autonomy, reflexivity and emerging culturalsensitivity. Students developed valuable social skills, and gained first-hand experi-ence of various concepts of development and social justice. Grading the journals wasdifficult because of the extent of subjectivity and diverse personal experiences.The course, and the journals, emphasised the diverse values and roles of coursesboth on, and particularly in, developing countries, despite the substantial costs.

KEY WORDS

fieldwork; journal; discovery; autonomy; development; emotions;Vanuatu; Fiji

Introduction

Fieldwork has long been heralded, defended andcherished as an integral part of geography butusually as an adjunct to a course. Given thevalue attached to fieldwork, one logical develop-ment would be to conduct entire courses in thefield but, for logistical reasons, this is rare. Thispaper evaluates one such course, conductedalmost entirely in the field, with particular refer-ence to the journals of the students, as markersof their participation in, and evaluation of, thecourse. While there is a substantial literature onthe role of fieldwork in geography (for example,Gold

et al

., 1991), such lengthy field courses donot appear to have been considered in thegeographical literature, other than in the limitedcase of American students more briefly in Britain(Panton and Dilsaver, 1989; Gold

et al

., 1991;Nairn

et al

., 2000). Equally, there are texts onconducting fieldwork in developing countriesbut these are directed towards lone graduate stu-dents (for example, Scheyvens and Storey, 2003;Scott

et al

., 2006: this issue). Similarly, assess-

ment of the role and use of student journals aspedagogical devices has usually been in quitedifferent contexts (for example, Cook, 2000;Clifford, 2002) rather than as means of assess-ing emergent understandings of other nations.The paper examines the pedagogical issuesinvolved in field trips and journals in contexts ofsignificant cultural diversity.

Since 1999 a one month long Third Yearcourse (GEOG 3201: Asia-Pacific Development)has been held during the University of Sydneylong vacation. A standard one semester (thirteenweek) course with limited weekly contact hours,and running alongside other courses, was con-densed into an intensive month. This paperexamines the role and impact of this course, thevarious issues it raises in terms of student learn-ing, and the significance of self-assessmentwithin the student journals. It focuses primarilyon the most recent 2004 course. Student com-ments from these journals are in italics.

The course emerged in part from dissatisfac-tion in teaching Pacific island development

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© 2006 Institute of Australian Geographers

issues in classrooms, divorced from the placesand people at the core. Students were not easilyable to empathise with contexts of change anddevelopment in quite different places of whichthey had no experience (and which usuallyreceived little coverage in the media or in priorhigh school or university courses). The students,most of whom were Sydney residents, had usu-ally already completed two years of Geographycourses, but few had previously focused on thePacific or development issues. Most had beenoverseas before but rarely to the Pacific, otherthan as children. None had done a course over-seas. The basic cost of A$3000 (covering trans-port, accommodation and most food) means thatthe course is not compulsory. The cost has notdiscouraged relatively poorer students fromtaking part. Student numbers have settled at 24which is large enough to allow certain econo-mies of scale (such as air fare discounts) but nottoo large to prevent there being adequate accessto accommodation in remote places. Equally, itis large enough to enable some considerablediversity but not too big to result in cliquesdeveloping.

Vanuatu and Fiji are both small, fragmented,multiple island states, with dominantly touristeconomies, supplemented by agriculture (notablysugar in Fiji) and fisheries. Both are regarded asdeveloping countries with Vanuatu officially aLeast Developed Country. Fiji particularly hasexperienced recent political unrest and somedegree of emigration. Vanuatu has about 200 000people scattered over 80 populated islands andFiji about 800 000 people. Both were Britishcolonies until independence about a quarter of acentury ago, but Vanuatu was distinctive in thePacific as a condominium (sometimes referredto as a pandemonium) jointly governed byFrance and the United Kingdom. The Britishlegacy has meant that English is quite widelyspoken, even in villages, hence one reason forchoosing such destinations was that basic con-versations were possible in a diversity of con-texts. Other reasons for settling on these twocountries were considerable differences betweenand within them in culture and structures ofdevelopment, the cost of mounting the courseand personal safety.

Course structure

At least one preliminary lecture, a book of read-ings and several briefing sessions on practicali-ties, are given in Sydney, but students tend toreach the field with only a fragmentary back-

ground to the region and the themes of thecourse. Within the countries a variety of lecturesand talks is given from other university staff (theUniversity of the South Pacific (USP) has anexcellent Geography Department and campusesin Port Vila and Suva, the capitals of the twocountries), politicians and traditional leaders,government officials, NGO workers (in regionaland national institutions), representatives of theprivate sector (such as tourism) and various others.There is an inevitable uncertainty about whatthey will say. Occasionally, lectures conflictwith each other (which is rarely a problem) andsometimes the content is simply wrong. Thecourse Lecturer must therefore take notes in thesame way that the students do.

The course structure was designed to behighly flexible to allow for lecturers not appear-ing for one reason or another (some are nervousabout talking in English to large groups of for-eigners), or lecturers being found on the spot (asstudents’ interests, or changes within countries,dictate); and students themselves have invitedcontacts they have made to give lectures, some-times memorably so. (In 2004 one of the stu-dents was sitting next to the Vanuatu Minister ofLands on the plane to Vanuatu and by the end ofthe trip had convinced him to come and give theclass a lecture. On the same plane a second studentdiscovered – correctly – from her neighbour thatthe scheduled talk from the Director of Tourismin one of the countries was now unlikely tohappen since he had just been removed fromoffice for corruption).

Lectures are backed up by informal tutorials(with particular groups of students concernedwith certain themes), group seminars at regularintervals to review themes and intermediate con-clusions, and constant one-off discussions. Inparallel, lectures are supported, or challenged,by students’ own interactions with those theymeet elsewhere. Lectures, rarely in lecture thea-tres, are supported by visits to places such assquatter settlements, factories, suburban estates,farms, agricultural stations, archaeological sitesand national parks. A large and crucial part ofthe course involves interaction and participantobservation, observing and learning from localpeople such as villagers, market vendors andtaxi drivers. Much is also simply observedthrough bus and other windows and by walkinground relatively small urban areas and villages.

The course uses cheap accommodation(including USP student accommodation, back-packer guest houses, villages, and hotels on two

John Connell:

‘I Can’t Eat That, It’s Purple’

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remote islands where no other accommodationis feasible). Local buses are used where pos-sible, rather than hiring buses, and twelve-seaterplanes (from Port Vila to Tanna) play a distinctivepart: ‘

a bit nerve wracking but we all made it OK

’.Such choices are economic and designed for somedegree of detachment from tourist circuits.

The course assessment has three roughlyequal components: an assignment comparingand contrasting Fiji and Vanuatu on some variantof one of eight designated themes (ranging fromindigenous cultural change, through contempo-rary economic development to the Australianpresence); an examination (a month after returnto Sydney); and a journal (a daily record ofobservations and assessments, supplemented bya summary of both countries centred aroundthe eight themes, emphasising what has beenobserved, views about the broad context ofdevelopment and change and perceptions oflectures). The lecture notes themselves are keptseparate.

The purpose of the journal was to enable stu-dents to become aware of what they had learned,and how they had learned, the way they con-structed new knowledge as the course evolvedand to enable them to assess their own develop-ment. The course outline stated:

The journal should consist of both observa-tions and reflections. The first objective is todescribe all activities on a sequential basis,addressing the questions Where? When? Who?What? In other words, you are expected torelate in detail what you do, see, hear orexperience. The second objective is to dem-onstrate the development of your understand-ing of the information acquired, that is, yourinterpretation of events, information, experi-ences and people. This measures your criticalunderstanding of the knowledge acquired.

The journal is both a record of what studentshave done (and how they perceive this) and avaluable means of encouraging focus, some-times in the midst of tourist temptations! Thispaper considers the journal as a particular meansof self-assessment of learning and uses students’own statements as the principal way of examin-ing the process of learning.

The learning experience

A number of themes recurs through the journals,some of which not surprisingly parallel thoseobserved in other (domestic) fieldwork contexts(for example, Pawson and Teather, 2002); but in

a quite different socio-economic, political andcultural context they are often perceived ratherdifferently.

Theme 1. Discovery

The first experience is of Vanuatu when theplane arrives at Port Vila at 11.55 p.m. on aSaturday night. The airport is small and quiet,though a string band is playing, singing songsmainly in the local lingua franca,

Bislama

, anddressed in grass skirts that are intended to be‘traditional’. The band plays as the line of arriv-als snakes very slowly through passport andcustoms control, barely cooled by ceiling fans.Outside the building the night is hot and humideven after midnight; it is January, the cycloneseason. The night smells different; fragrant trop-ical blossoms are blooming and smoke is in theair, from the many wood-fuelled cooking stovesand open fires. Minibuses take the group overpot-holed roads, in darkness – for there are fewstreet lights – and stars are visible even from thetown centre. The buses travel on the right-handside of the road for in the former condominiumthe road rules are French.

The sights, sounds and smells are differentfrom those of Sydney and for some they arestartling and remarkable. None can be taught ina classroom yet they are some of the most obvi-ous things that make Vanuatu different fromAustralia. Such sensory differences immediatelyraise questions and new perceptions. The maindiscoveries, beginning within seconds of arrival,therefore concern and focus on difference.(For some it begins even earlier; a handful hasalready noted by then that the only internationalflight of the day from Australia carries barely ahundred people, which may impose limitationson the development of the tourist economy.)

Theme 2. A world of difference

Initially, so much is new. ‘

I slept badly the firstnight – the traffic noise outside, the heat, thegeckos screeching on the wall, and I swear whatsounded like a repeat performance of the musicensemble we heard at the airport

’. Very quicklythe geckos become familiar and the noise throughopen windows is less distinctive and annoying.The countries, however, are different fromimages that previously existed: ‘

Where was thetourist Fiji? Instead I found busy urban streetsdaubed with graffiti?

’. Immediately apparentdissonance poses questions to the better students.

Questions occur within a day, as in thefollowing excerpts:

‘Solomon guided us through

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the settlement. He used to work in a resort butleft. Wonder why? Possible interview and project?Where are the backpackers? Do people simplystay in the resorts?’ ‘I have received differentideas on how women are viewed. I am leftwondering about several questions. What hap-pens to a woman who does not wish to live outa housewife role? Is further education of womenencouraged?’ ‘The money earned from tourismmust complicate matters. Is it shared with thewider family? What is it spent on?’

Even at theairport some students become critical: ‘

Althoughit was pleasing to be welcomed in this way, itwas midnight and I don’t feel these peopleshould have to work at such a late time just toentertain tourists. I hope they were getting time-and-a-half

’. What they see may create unease,again even, or perhaps particularly, on the firstday: ‘

I found myself throughout the day becom-ing increasingly uneasy with the situation theni-Vanuatu people seem to be in. That is thelow-paying jobs, servicing people who makeenormous amounts of money in comparison. Ihate feeling as if I may be part of the exploitation

’.Rhetorical questions dominate the best dia-

ries. Nonetheless, with different interpretationsof so many different issues, in two countries andseveral different places, conclusions are usuallydifficult to reach even after a month. ‘

The moreI learn and think about these issues the moreuncertain I become.

’ Here as elsewhere, thosewho claim to have reached a conclusion mayoften be wrong and the uncertain are right,though no-one wants to reach that conclusion.‘

It is difficult to make judgments when we knowso little.

’ Some questions clearly cannot beanswered in a short time. ‘

Is opening a smallFijian village to tourism a productive or adestructive exercise? We would probably have toreevaluate that in ten years time.

’ While rhetor-ical questions become less evident as the journaland field course progresses, they never lose theirplace in the better journals.

Theme 3. Getting into it

Students regularly argue that through the coursethey are seeing bits of the region that tourists donot see, and that they are thus privileged. ‘

It’snice to go snorkelling, and sneak into the hotelpools, but I’m so glad I can see the stuff that thetourists will never see. They miss out on so much

’and, more optimistically, ‘

We were beyond tour-ists. We scratched the surface of how the countryticks

’. Such optimism and pleasure primarilycome from interaction with local people in a

context that is a little less forced and perhapsartificial than within the tourist context, thoughbecause of the significance of tourism in theeconomies some interaction with tourism andtourists is both inevitable and necessary. Yet thatinteraction sometimes becomes less pleasant:‘

Nadi is touristville; it’s like a different Fiji to theone I’ve come to know and appreciate

’. Hencetourists may also be seen in a negative light: ‘

Itseems bizarre that so many tourists fly into Fijiand after a short bus ride are secluded within aluxurious relaxation compound for a week

’. Thisis so familiar that the converse – themselves asvisitors who eschew resorts – can be puzzling toPacific peoples: ‘

some residents [of a squattersettlement] are confused as to why we wanted tosee the way they live rather than doing the touristthing

’. But students also found some experiencesunsettling: ‘

I felt uncomfortable when I walkedround the settlement because I felt intrusive andlike a naïve tourist wanting to sticky-beak intohow the “less fortunate” live

’. Some degree ofdiscomfort is nonetheless valuable.

At the first accommodation in the secondcountry, Fiji – a backpackers motel – the loss ofperceived links to country and people wasimmediately felt: ‘

It was nice having places likeVanuatu to yourself despite a few resort tourists wehad nothing to do with. Here it feels like touristcentral and I don’t like the fact that I feel likeanother stupid tourist (even though I am one)

’.Indeed the students, though not averse to visitsto hotel bars, generally sought to differentiatethemselves from tourists in various ways. Despitethe role of tourism in both economies and thepopularity of undertaking assignments on tourism,with one exception no student in four years everinterviewed tourists, who seemed too much likethemselves (as opposed to government officials,hotel owners and workers, for example).

Yet, at Seaside settlement, the oldest estab-lished informal urban settlement in Port Vila,and between the city centre and several touristresort hotels, the chief welcomed the group, say-ing ‘We are so pleased that you have chosen tocome and see us the ordinary people of PortVila, since though many tourists have passed bythey have never taken time to find out about usand our lives’. That was reciprocated by the stu-dents: ‘

The people of Seaside were so incrediblyhospitable even though they are incredibly poor.They provided for us even though they are strug-gling economically. They are rich at heart

.’ Theexperience of uneven development results inincreased interest in issues of social justice.

John Connell:


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Theme 4. Us and them

Local people live in communities that are unfa-miliar in western cities. Even the largest urban areasare characterised by clusters of housing basedaround island or region of origin, hence urbanpeople in particular places are surrounded bykin and may commonly speak the language oftheir home island rather than the national lan-guage. Equally striking are the extended familiesand kinship groups: ‘

the extended family isalways prepared to take an extra niece or nephewunder their wing if circumstances require it

’.They are also open to outsiders. Students areinvariably struck with the friendliness of peopleso different from themselves in lifestyle andaffluence: ‘

I still really can’t get over how friendlythe local people are. I am getting sore cheeks fromsmiling too much

’. This extended even to govern-ment officials. Students usually needed (or wanted)to interview government officials, to obtaininside stories and official documents. Mostwere impressed with the ease of access to highlevel officials, in a way that would be blocked inAustralia, which suggested an open society.

On the other hand there were also experiencesof ‘Pacific time’ when meetings occurred hourslate or failed to occur at all. Moreover, thatpeople had time to speak to individual studentscould ‘

show either that they are excited to havesomeone interested in what they’re doing or it’sjust because they’re not doing much

’. Over timetoo, villages and urban settlements can be unex-citing; life is repetitive (though little differentfrom that in their own streets) and potentiallyboring. ‘

They seem to do the same thing dayafter day; I went to Seaside twice and everybodywas in the same position – how boring

’. Similarly,in a textile factory ‘

we admired the dexterity ofone man but it would not be hard to become soefficient when one performs the same action 100times a day. ... It’s not much of a life

’.At various points students were encouraged to

participate in fishing, cooking or agriculture, allof which revealed that islanders had diverseforms of indigenous knowledge and skills farin excess of their own and generated variousdegrees of admiration. In Vanuatu, where mostpeople are at least bilingual and usually quadri-lingual, language skills were equally impressive,and daunting to students: ‘

I am embarrassed toonly be able to speak English

’. Indigenous tech-nical knowledge can also be impressive. ‘

Ourguide found a vine leaf which he chopped up anddropped into my open wound. It hurt like b****but seemed to cleanse the wound and seal it

.’

Other plants were demonstrated to have relatedproperties, hence: ‘

So little credit is given toindigenous science ... at present scientists andindigenous groups are antagonistic. Marryingthe two would be part of the reconciliation proc-ess between indigenous and colonial people

.’Participation poses culinary challenges and

unexpected pleasures (and the converse). ‘

Thepineapples are the best I have ever tasted

’;‘

The food was awesome, flavours and coloursabounding

.’ Various fruits and vegetable areoften entirely new, including cassava, sweetpotato – ‘

Gotta love those sweet potato chips

’

–

plantain banana, breadfruit, sugar cane, variousseafoods (including sea urchin) and taro (whichcan be purple), and Indian spices. Eating toomay be on the floor: ‘

a great dinner eaten withour hands – the rice a little tricky

’. At Seasidestudents participated in preparing and cookinglaplap, a starchy pudding cooked in an under-ground oven: ‘

our laplap actually tasted halfdecent. Hoorah

’. But there is more to cookingand eating than culinary sensations. ‘

Cooking isa time of learning, sharing, chatting and food issuch a pleasure that it has to be shared. I justloved being surrounded by the women of Sea-side laughing, talking and preparing good foodfor a group of happy people

.’Drinking kava, a beverage that can induce a

relaxed feeling (and has been marketed as the‘Pacific prozac’) and is necessary in many cul-tural contexts in both countries, can be challeng-ing. ‘

Kava is gross; even thinking about itmakes me sick

’; ‘

Actually it wasn’t so bad – itwas just like drinking muddy water

.’ On theother hand, that drinking kava has physical con-sequences can be alluring: ‘

I was disappointedthat kava didn’t have much effect on me

’. Forsome it works: ‘

Discovered kava; what a pleas-ant experience – very relaxed and chilled out,and the Rainbow Bar was quiet and tranquil

’.For every venture into a new cultural contextthere is a reaction, at the most basic level; eve-ryone needs some reminder of home: ‘

It wasgreat to chill out for a while with the familiarityof baked beans on toast

’; ‘

we had McDonaldsfor lunch (gross but a little taste of home)

’. Moststudents are at least willing to attempt the exper-imentation required of cultural contact thoughthe outcome is mixed: at worst ‘

the people werefriendly and agreeable – even if the food wasn’t.The breadfruit laplap was unsurpassed innauseating taste only by kava. Neither pepperytaste, muddy water appearance nor gaggingeffect endeared the local tradition to me

.’ Food

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is at the heart of cultural contact and the field-work experience.

Reflexivity follows consideration of the dis-tinct differences between island cultures andthose of Australia: ‘

I deeply regret that I don’tlive in a culture that has an essential connectionto the environment

’ and ‘

It is sad that we don’thave a cohesive community culture

’, thoughintricate divisions within villages and settle-ments challenged this notion at different scales.Just as people seemed closer to the environmentand each other some of their lived cultural sys-tems had a personal flavour and immediacy thatAustralia seemed to lack: ‘

I love the concept ofreconciliation instead of punishment. It makesmuch more sense than our system

.’ Consequently,‘

I wondered about my society and its dysfunc-tional relationships; perhaps it could take sometips from these cultures

’.Throughout the course it was evident that

despite positive features of island life thechallenges for most people were substantiallygreater than in Australia, whether in gainingaccess to services (from health to housing) orfinding work: ‘

a student’s life in Blacksands isso starkly different from our own

’. This povertyof opportunity was quite apparent. ‘

This trip hascertainly taught me a new appreciation for thelife I lead. It really taught me to appreciate whatI have and what is most important in life

’;‘

Picked up a Sydney Morning Herald today.There’s outcry over some little curriculumproblem in state schools while kids in Vanuatucannot even afford an education. Australia is aninsular society in many ways

.’Not all cultural norms seem positive. Gender

relations are quite different. As one female stu-dent noted: ‘

It was really annoying that the menanswered the boys’ questions but not ours

’. Onechief’s argument that women are ‘the spare tyrein society’ was similarly contested, though hisargument that ‘the introduction of equality forwomen was destroying Vanuatu customs’ posedgreater need for reflection. It was also readilyapparent that in both countries there were highlevels of domestic violence.

Other practices caused concern, usually whenconflicting with ideals of environmental man-agement: ‘

The dive master picked up fish andsea cucumbers and allowed tourists to dragthemselves along the reef

’. Similarly the exportof aquarium fish (stimulated in Vanuatu espe-cially by the film

Finding Nemo

) was continu-ing, despite having reached unsustainable levels.It was also evident that health is poor in some

places – especially Middle Bush in Tanna – andmalnutrition again challenged perceptions ofwarm people and seemingly pleasant rural life-styles. ‘

Apart from malnutrition they appearedto be well cared for

–

but always dirty

.’ Ruralplaces seem neglected by the centre, and hospi-tals inadequately serviced to cope with demand.

The role of churches is complex, especially inVanuatu, and can be challenging for studentswith established beliefs. Many find the differ-ences between church and custom considerableand reflect at length on the seeming oppositionof mainstream churches to traditional beliefsand practices. Such incompatibility takes widerforms in the whole structure of development andchange: ‘

At moments I feel my heart pang thatwesterners ever had to destroy such a way of life– so different from our own – yet everywhere thewest is seeping in and taking over; the wheel’snow in motion, it can’t be stopped

’; but then ‘

Itis very difficult to formulate a very black andwhite view of globalisation and development inVanuatu because there are so many shades ofgrey in costs and benefits

’.The extent of outmigration, primarily from

Fiji, which is creating problems in the healthand education sectors, also sits uneasily withnotions of paradise: ‘

The oldest daughter wantsto go to Australia and even asked us to find hera husband. It’s strange that while we are havinga great time in Fiji a lot of Fijians want to goto Australia

.’ The same student, however, con-stantly drew attention to low wages and highcosts of living. Perhaps overall ‘

I have learntthat a tropical paradise to some is a poor strug-gling nation to others

’.

Theme 5. Skills and autonomy

In a general sense students acquired new skillsin data collecting. In large part this meant con-ducting successful interviews with people whosefirst language was not English; this taught somethe virtues of patience (and frustrated others), atthe same time as impressing students with themultilingual abilities of others. Inevitably, how-ever, some questions were misunderstood andthere was frustration that students were unableto speak Bislama or Fijian and ‘

really communi-cate

’. This also enforced the need for observa-tion when events were not congruent withAustralian norms and no explanation was onhand, and for constant discussion (orally or injournal form).

Certain topics lend themselves to widely dif-fering responses and projects; by the second day

John Connell:


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‘

I am finding already that the topic I havechosen is challenging but worthwhile. I see adefinite need for tact when asking questions. Itseems there is a certain defensiveness when itcomes to women’s issues

’. New questioning andlistening skills become useful, and reflexivity ishelpful: ‘

Perhaps the most difficult thing for mewas not to be judgmental and place my westernvalues on other cultures

’.In a very different way students must develop,

if they are absent, social skills that cover a rangeof possibilities, from dealing with overseas cur-rency, maintaining health, organising transportfor themselves, to cooking (and drinking!)together. Most students lived at home, hence thesocial bonding that comes from simply eating,sleeping, working and living with other studentsover an extended period is a new experience.Invariably ‘loners’ are incorporated into groupactivities whether formal or social, though thisis more difficult for older students: ‘

There is alot to be learned in a group situation such asthis. There is a lot of support here and I feel atpeace with myself. I have learnt so muchalready about myself and done things I neverimagined doing

.’ Confidence grows. Settling incomes relatively quickly. After three days awayfrom Port Vila, and only three days there, return-ing ‘

felt like returning home ... we already feelcomfortable and familiar walking along the highstreet and through the market

’. Personal growthallows working towards independence andself-confidence, even simply: ‘

I went on thebus alone today

’.Students welcomed the opportunity to develop

their own projects in the field and so draw inexpertise from other disciplines, or in somecases from their own lives (including studies ofthe impact of religion and the missions on socialchange and the emergence of a fashion indus-try). Topics very quickly evolved in the field asthe realities of what was involved becameclearer, usually resulting in narrower, moremanageable projects.

Students talk to many of those they meetinformally, whether shopkeepers, bus and taxidrivers or market vendors, and the best studentsoften quickly slip into a loose interview mode todiscover the details of their lives. The lecturer‘

told us that when only one in ten school leaversfinds a job they come back dissatisfied with edu-cation. However, I heard a different view from afather of two kids that I met in the bank today.He says that parents should not blame theschools for a lack of cultural knowledge as par-

ents have some responsibility to teach life skillsto their children

’; ‘

We spoke to a man who saidthat an aquarium group had been over-fishingthe area recently, and there were less fish andcrustaceans to show the tourists – the things youlearn by just randomly speaking to someone

.’Pride in such individual learning, a measure ofgreater confidence, is invaluable and enablesstudents to take responsibility for their ownlearning even in a different cultural context.

Theme 6. Relating readings to observations ... or not: the nature of development

Since few geographers, and few others fromother disciplines, presently conduct research inthe Pacific, providing adequate resources is dif-ficult (especially for the Vanuatu island of Tannawhere, for more than a decade, no social sciencestudies of any kind have been published). Veryevidently ‘There is only so much a text canrelate to you before you have to have some expe-rience to back it up’; ‘I would never have beenable to comprehend the political tensions exist-ing in Fiji had I not been able to see it formyself.’ Knowledge of some issues must beacquired directly. This raised some questions ofdata availability since in some areas, particularlyenvironmental management, topics where therewas access to data in Australia are poorly servedin the Pacific. In turn this raised issues concern-ing the priority of particular structures of devel-opment, and emphasised how environmental andgender issues tended to languish in most govern-mental contexts. Development priorities in thePacific were seen to be different from those inAustralia.

Because of the limitations of existing research(and therefore published material) for bothcountries, constant changes in the structure ofdevelopment, and the ability of students to meetand talk to a range of individuals, almost everystudent is able to record and discover somethingnew. Such discoveries represent a recent change,not recorded in literature, but visible or enunci-ated in the words of key individuals and/or vil-lagers and settlers (with flesh being put on thebare bones of government reports, for example).Everyone therefore has something different toreport and can, with satisfaction, genuinely claimto have advanced knowledge in a small way.

Many issues discussed (or not) in classes aremore confusing when confronted in the field.Certain general themes, loosely linked to thenature of development, including overseas aid,‘tradition’, women’s role, informal settlements

24 Geographical Research • March 2006 • 44(1):17–27


and governance, tended to stimulate particularinterest, debate and sometimes dissent. Spaceprecludes discussion of this here, but these areonly a few of the issues that appear black andwhite at home but in various shades of grey inthe field. Several represent an affront to the ide-alism and/or unfamiliarity of students with var-ious practical issues, and tend to hinge aroundwhat is sometimes perceived to be the insensi-tivity or urban bias of bureaucrats, factory ownersor even Australian High Commission officials –loosely the ‘real world’ beyond universities. Invarious contexts students made statements alongthe lines of ‘I don’t buy into his [hotel man-ager’s] claim that he has altruistic intentions inhelping out Tanna – fair enough he is creatingjobs – but a look at the faces of the some of thestaff and I wonder how they are treated’.

Many students assume that overseas aid isaltruistic even though they may have undertakencourses that relate to aid policy and practice.They are therefore surprised and irritated thatthe first priority of Australian aid is to ‘advanceAustralia’s national interest’ and then, secondly,to ‘reduce poverty and assist economic develop-ment’. Aid is not disinterested: ‘I was obliviousto the strings’. Women’s roles are quite differ-ent: ‘I was also faced with rampant, deeplyengrained stubborn and selfish sexism, dis-played by the chiefs, especially in Vanuatu’.Such different and ‘dissident’ views then becamethe stuff of ongoing arguments, discussions,tutorials and seminars in the field, and topics tobe raised with later speakers.

Underlying many of these differences anduncertainties were fairly conventional assump-tions that individuals in positions of power andparticularly government were there to serve orassist the people. When governments changevery rapidly, often through votes of no-confidencebetween elections, finance is limited, andcorruption not unusual (Jowitt, 2003), suchassumptions are less easy to sustain. The natureof governance in the Pacific was thus seen dif-ferently: ‘I found it interesting that the differentpolitical parties did not have specific ideologiesand that politicians were elected by personalpromises. No wonder so many are ousted fromvotes of no-confidence’; ‘There is an inability toformulate policies and distribute funds withsuch regular turnover in government.’ In a prac-tical sense the deficiencies were sometimes evi-dent: ‘No-one is in politics long enough to careabout the environment’; ‘Dumping and burningare illegal yet policing is impossible because of

the limited human resources available.’ Similarlythere is little monitoring of fishing activities,either inshore or by deep water vessels, hencethere are no measures of sustainable production.In the health care system, there were ‘the bloodspattered walls of the hospital; it was just sounder-resourced’ and the pharmacy too had‘unlabelled, unrefrigerated, poorly stocked,half-corroded shelves’.

The apparent weaknesses of formal govern-ment structures resulted in reflection on moretraditional structures in the countries both ofwhich have councils of chiefs with some role ingovernment, and some support for the notionthat older systems still have a valuable place, interms of justice, health and other areas. ‘I likethe fact that a chief’s role is to achieve unity ofa community. I don’t think western authority hasa major role to play in Vanuatu’; ‘there is a realattempt to keep ni-Vanuatu culture simplybecause it works, and western law and orderand police skills do not’; ‘A meshing of culturescan take place with Government and theNational Council of Chiefs hammering out solu-tions together.’ Other forms of government existbeyond those of western democracy, just asdifferent modes of education are required insocieties that can employ only small proportionsof school leavers. And where visits to hospitalsare often a last resort, such that they are per-ceived as places to die, perhaps ‘the only solu-tion is to try and sustain and develop systemsthat embrace the ni-Vanuatu culture as much aspossible – otherwise even a western hospitalseems a pointless feat unless people are goingto use it’. Ultimately most students developed aperception that some degree of synergy was neces-sary, especially where they had seen this workin areas such as health: ‘Who am I to look atthese people and assume they need to conformto western ways to be happy. Does being west-ern mean happiness, security and fulfilment. Ithink most of us can safely say no.’ At an Oce-anic Centre (USP) dance performance: ‘I likethis synergy of old with new and (this is reallycorny) see it as an analogy for a viable futurefor the South Pacific nations’. What might becorny to one student emphasises how certainconventional views about the region, its peopleand its development structure had been chal-lenged and redefined.

Conclusion: into the fieldThe students’ own evaluations (no-one has everrated the course less than Excellent on the scale

John Connell: ‘I Can’t Eat That, It’s Purple’ 25


provided on formal assessment forms; manywrite in ‘Very Excellent’) demonstrate that thecourse is at least enjoyable. Indeed, various stu-dents recorded variants of ‘I can’t believe we’reearning credit points for this much fun’. ‘It hasbeen a phenomenal trip – a truly fantastic expe-rience’; ‘absolutely the best way to study – ifonly uni could always be like this.’ But it is morethan merely fun; students learn what can neverbe taught in a lecture theatre about development,and learn directly or indirectly from the ‘sub-jects’ of development. Simply ‘I’ve had an eye-opening amazing time’; ‘You learn so muchmore from being in a place than sitting in alecture theatre’; it was ‘seeing rather than look-ing’ and ‘I learnt so often we may visit a placeand not see all it has to offer’. What might seemvoyeuristic is not:

I have acquired more knowledge than Ithought possible. I have learnt how to traveland how to open my mind. I have learnt todiscard all prejudices and prior impressionsof a place and involve myself with a newculture with an open and willing mind. And Ihave learnt to take nothing for granted and behappy with the life I have and to strivealways to do my best and to help others.

Ideally, textbooks and journal articles come tolife: ‘I’ve gained so much from seeing theseactivities first hand. It’s much better than a 30-year old Anthropology reading.’ Eventually, thecountries become a little more comprehensible:

On the first day I was still in a state ofamazement. The first few days of my diaryread like a first year student making notesfrom a textbook. When our lectures beganmy brain went out of holiday/‘concernedtourist’ mode and I began to see the impor-tant little details that make a large differenceto the environment and development issuesthat face Vanuatu and Fiji. I wasn’t here toget a good tan or pass a moral judgment, Iwas here to learn.

Despite learning much about development intwo island states there is always much more:

I have experienced so much on the fieldschool. Yet I’ve come away more confusedand uncertain about everything than when Ileft.

I learnt so much on the trip yet it also felt likeI was only skimming the surface of so manyissues. After all the lectures, first-hand expe-

rience and research, I did not expect to be leftwith so many questions.

The trip has opened up so many moreopportunities in the way of friendship, anewfound passion for my studies and aclearer mind on who I am and where I wantto go and be.

In one month in two complex and quite differentStates there are limits to what might be learned,especially about issues as complex as povertyand development, and in contexts where lan-guage differences complicate comprehension.There was a perceived problem of ‘Fiji time’and ‘work when you have to’, though some didrecognise why a ‘work ethic’ might seem to belacking. Practical experiences further challengecomplacency, but extend knowledge. No coursehas been completed without at least one studenthaving to visit hospital, or being pressurised bytaxi drivers or handicraft vendors: ‘I got connedinto buying a sword I didn’t want’. However, notall escape from long-held notions of the Pacificas ‘paradise’ (Connell, 2004), sustained by tour-ist images, even if their observations and thelocal media suggest otherwise: ‘how can wordsdepict paradise?’ Nonetheless, the course pri-marily challenges stereotypes, old certaintiesand diverse misconceptions and, for the betterstudents, sets in train continued questions.

Even the weakest students experience phe-nomena they have never encountered previouslyand may never see again. Minimally, that is arewarding experience. Students express theirenthusiasm about the opportunities for inde-pendence and autonomy that the course has giventhem (Pawson and Teather, 2002, 286). Theybelieve that overcoming the challenges of under-taking work in a developing country – and mak-ing their own discoveries – is a major benefit fora future career (even if few formal skills havebeen learned), and for themselves more person-ally: ‘I just matured so much personally in fieldschool’; ‘I have learnt so much about my closestneighbouring countries and myself’; ‘It was afantastic intensive learning period and I fullyintend sharing my newly acquired knowledgewith those around me.’ They were collectivelysurprised and pleased when the Vanuatu Ministerof Lands stated that he would welcome theirviews when they had completed their assignments.

The journal played a useful role:

I have had a somewhat love/hate relationshipwith this journal. Some days you can’t wait

26 Geographical Research • March 2006 • 44(1):17–27


to write about your experiences; others,weary and exhausted, it is the last thing youfeel like. Still a very worthwhile experienceand something that is sure to be flippedthrough, read and re-read for years to come.

The journal although painful was fantasticto do.

The journal enabled constant reflection ofthoughts as well as the particular topic ofstudy.

A degree of motivation and self-discipline mustbe acquired. Over the month it is evident that‘keeping a journal is not only a way of ponder-ing upon questions, patterns and themes in one’swork, but it is a way of uncovering dilemmas,paradoxes and contradictions so as to begin toresolve them’ (Holly and Smyth, 1989, 2). Herethe emphasis lies firmly on making a start in theconstant search for significance and meaning.Nevertheless, as in other quite different contexts(Cook, 2000; Clifford, 2002), the journals repre-sent growing confidence and awareness.

Grading the journals is a difficult exercise, andquite subjective, especially because the courseand the journals encourage rather than discourageemotion.

It took me a while to realise that I simplycouldn’t read in a book what I was here tolearn. I restrained myself from getting tooemotionally involved at first, but later I foundthis helped me to get a greater objectiveinsight into what we were studying.

Some journals are works of art illustrated witheverything from plane tickets and photographs,to beer bottle labels and banknotes. Many areover 10 000 words long. Not all students arereflective; some are humorous or display hiddenjournalistic skills. The weakest simply describewhat they have seen; the best draw on experi-ences beyond the course work (for example, vis-its to cinemas or kava bars), previous travel orlink observations to texts or lectures from othercontexts. As Clifford (2002, 111) has written ofassessing the journals of teachers in a tertiaryeducation course: ‘I have struggled with the taskof grading such idiosyncratic documents and thedesire to grade the relative journey of the stu-dent rather than the end point reached’. Thosewho are already familiar with journals and sim-ilar learning styles have inherent advantages (yetno course can take account of the diverse expe-riences that students bring to it). More generallyall assessment is difficult. Students often devel-

oped interesting research questions but werefrustrated by the absence of data or people whowere willing and able to discuss them. Theyhave limited time to collect data of any kind.Some have wider experience of other countries,such as Asian developing countries, and hencecan contextualise their observations in a verydifferent way from those who have never previ-ously ventured abroad.

Confronted with inequalities within the coun-tries and between them and Australia, most stu-dents develop and enhance a social consciencethat focuses on perceived injustices and thestruggles of those who seek to remove them. Asone student simply noted of an NGO worker,‘what an admirable and inspiring woman’.Resultant interest in social justice would havebeen less likely to emerge in a more formal lec-ture theatre context. The field course becomesmore than the acquisition of data for examina-tion purposes, and akin to the experiences ofbackpackers who claim to have undergonepersonal change through the combination ofauthenticity and adventure (Noy, 2004) and withwhom students share such characteristics as ageand interest in the wider world.

Each year students have returned to Fiji orVanuatu to undertake Honours theses, thoughthis is more difficult and expensive than theusual practice of working close to or withinSydney. It is then that ‘skimming the surface’can be refined. Others refine this throughengagement with NGOs or other groups. Stillothers have kept in touch with some of thosethey have met, exchanging letters and presents.In the best sense there is a move towards life-long learning. The 2003 students gained a cul-tural grant from the Students Union to mount anexhibition of their 24 best photographs, with theexhibition also sponsored by the Fiji VisitorsBureau, and the 2004 group sought to establishan education scholarship in Vanuatu. Empathybecomes more realistic and even practical (Nairnet al., 2000, 249). The field course may thus bea prelude to further travel, research, continuedengagement with the people of poor countries,greater respect for others and new forms ofself-enrichment.

The lecturer must be constantly involved,both to hold sporadic tutorials or seminars whena topic simply needs developing further beyondwhat has been learned in lectures (or evenwhen the weather demands that anticipated pro-grams must be cancelled), or to work with theindividual students on their chosen topics (sug-

John Connell: ‘I Can’t Eat That, It’s Purple’ 27


gesting profitable directions, sampling tech-niques, sources or contacts). This is not alwayspossible. No lecturer can possibly have a com-prehensive understanding of recent developmenttrends in every area (in my case in 2004 in thefishing industry), nor can they understand orinterpret every facet of the cultural context ofdevelopment (such as, again in 2004, the grow-ing visibility of transvestites). However, one ofthe consequences of this is that the lecturer alsolearns: a good example of lifelong learning. Insuch specific cases and more generally there isno way that students can grasp the complexityof development issues. To understand that theyare both complex and changing is a major outcomeof the course.

Running the course is demanding, because ofconstant pressure on practical and intellectualresources in a tropical environment and thecomplexities of arranging programs at a dis-tance. However, as in New Zealand, the courseproduces ‘staff pleasure in witnessing the joysof discovery’ (Pawson and Teather, 2002, 286).Lecturers have also been able to link the fieldcourses with research activities of their own,both in visiting sites where fieldwork has beenundertaken and in maintaining their own inter-ests through renewing personal contacts andupdating data. Finally, for any lecturer to have acourse only ever rated as excellent is encourage-ment enough.

The Pacific field course thus goes beyondmore conventional field trips, in taking place ina wholly different cultural context, that makes itboth more exciting (even occasionally worrying)and challenging than in a domestic context.Several students opened their journals with con-cerns about travelling abroad for the first time,living in the tropics, strange food, and that theyknew few or no other students. After a monththese concerns had been resolved. In an old-fashioned sense, but in the most relevant way,they have learned, mainly through looking andtalking, an extraordinary amount of geographythrough the soles of their feet (and the wheels ofbuses and four-wheel drives). They have learnedabout development from the grass roots (or taroroots) to the pinnacles of government. Finally,

given that all students rate the course as excel-lent, and their enthusiasm is infectious, it hasbecome a means of branding the School as onewhere valuable, exciting and enjoyable activitiesoccur, forging commitment to the School andthe value of field studies, and ultimately contrib-uting to student numbers. In the end purple foodis consumed with pleasure.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTSI am indebted to the students who took part in the 2004course for permission to reproduce their journal entries, andfor making this such an enjoyable learning experience for allof us. I am also indebted to Eric Waddell, who was a crucialmember of the first two field courses, for his comments onan earlier version of this paper, and to the two referees. Aboveall we are all indebted to the people of Vanuatu and Fiji,especially in the settlement of Seaside and the village of Korotogo,without whom these field trips would not have occurred.

REFERENCESClifford, V., 2002: Does the use of journals as a form of

assessment put into practice principles of feministpedagogy? Gender and Education 14, 109–121.

Connell, J., 2004: Island dreaming: the contemplation ofPacific paradise. Journal of Historical Geography 29,554–582.

Cook, I., 2000: ‘Nothing can ever be the case of “us” and“them” again’: exploring the politics of differencethrough border pedagogy and student journal writing.Journal of Geography in Higher Education 24, 13–27.

Gold, J., Jenkins, A., Lee, R., Monk, J., Riley, J., Shepherd,I. and Unwin, D., 1991: Teaching Geography in HigherEducation. Blackwell, Oxford.

Holly, M. and Smyth, J., 1989: The journal as a way oftheorising teaching. The Australian Administration 10, 1–8.

Jowitt, A., 2003: Vanuatu. The Contemporary Pacific 15,463–471.

Nairn, K., Higgitt, D. and Vanneste, D., 2000: Internationalperspectives on field courses. Journal of Geography inHigher Education 24, 246–254.

Noy, C., 2004: The trip really changed me. Backpackers’narratives of self-change. Annals of Tourism Research 31,78–102.

Panton, K. and Dilsaver, L., 1989: Americans in Britain:geographic education and foreign field trips. Journal ofGeography in Higher Education 13, 45–53.

Pawson, E. and Teather, E.K., 2002: ‘Geographical expedi-tions’: assessing the benefits of a student driven fieldworkmethod. Journal of Geography in Higher Education 26,275–289.

Scheyvens, R. and Storey, D., 2003: Development Field-work. A Practical Guide. Sage, London.

Scott, S., Miller, F. and Lloyd, K., 2006: Doing fieldwork inDevelopment Geography: research culture and researchspaces in Vietnam. Geographical Research 44, 28–40.

‘I Can't Eat That, It's Purple’: a Geography Field Course in Vanuatu and Fiji

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