Deep-fried tarantulas and other ‘delicacies’: Doing fieldwork in Cambodia

by Tracy Rogers

Chum reap suor!  
When I was asked to write something for the blog about my recent fieldtrip to Cambodia, I had no idea where to actually begin. My recently completed fieldtrip report for my supervisors runs 28 pages long - so clearly I could not use that for this blog post. But what do I write about when there is so much to reflect on after being in a cross-cultural context? 

I could write a totally non-academic blurb about the sights and sounds and smells that I became acutely aware of; just because they were so different from home. Like how I was unable to shut out the sounds of the hundreds of motorised scooters that filled the city air from dawn to dusk; or how the colour red seemed synonymous with the countryside as everything was tainted a rusty red from the dust and red soil of the unsealed roads.

'Strangeness’ is what really differentiates research conducted in a foreign cross-cultural context from research conducted in your own familiar environment. Whilst I often sought out familiar faces, accents, and food during my visit, I also thrived on being an outsider - discovering new tastes and experiences. As a visitor, my outsider identity gave me an opportunity to soak in my surroundings by drawing on all my senses. As a researcher though it afforded both advantages and disadvantages.

The ‘outsider’ advantage of conducting research is that I often took on a less powerful role when working with the study participants. I was the learner; the knowledge-deficit ‘other’ as my lack of local knowledge granted my participants the power to take control and teach me what they knew and had experienced.

The insider/outsider identity is a slippery one according to Tracey Skelton (2009)**. The researcher can move between the two binaries, or at times be both, or neither. I did not consciously negotiate the insider/outsider identity; although the presence of my interpreter/research assistant was a constant reminder that my lack of the local vernacular would always position me as an ‘outsider’ during my time in Cambodia.

I would not have been able to bridge the gap created by my ‘differentness’ if it weren’t for my interpreter/research assistant, Theary*. Theary* was crucial in me gaining access to the schools and participants, as well as providing me with cultural knowledge, and much needed companionship.

Just as a researcher can move between the insider/outsider identity, so too can an interpreter. An interpreter’s insider/outsider identity is based on her/his status within the community that is being researched. Theary was an insider in the community, yet her role as my research assistant and interpreter differentiated her from the other participants. Based on my early reflections, these differences did not appear to negatively affect the rapport that we managed to establish with the participants.

I think there are a few reasons why this may be the case. Firstly, Theary is an incredibly generous, friendly, and intelligent young woman, who was able to clearly explain the aims of my project to the participants. She was also able to talk to the participants in a non-threatening way so that they felt comfortable to ask questions and express their views. 

Theary also emphasised that I was interested in hearing what these young women had to say about their educational journey. As a result, the time and dedication that the participants put into each stage of the data collection process was quite remarkable.

 

The final reason I think...though I am not so sure how significant it is...is that instead of shying away from things (like I often do) I had decided to engage positively with everyone I met. I thought that if I could ask these young women to reveal their personal stories, then the least I could do was participate as fully as possible when invited. 

So when I was shown around a local school, I joined in a skipping rope game under the baking sun with school girls more than half my age. I attempted (quite unsuccessfully) to learn a traditional bamboo stick dance – much to the amusement of the audience and dancers. I cycled across the famous bumpy bamboo bridge and visited ancient temples guarded by troops of monkeys. I shared research experiences with other novice researchers from far flung countries. I swam with locals in a freshwater spring literally in the middle of nowhere. And I made life-long friends with my research assistant and ate lunch with Theary’s family in her remote rural home.

Lastly, on the last day, I also almost tasted the local delicacies of deep-fried tarantula (see the picture below!) and boiled embryonic duckling eggs. But by then, my outsider identity felt I had tried quite enough new experiences for one trip. So perhaps when I return, I may consider trying some more tastes, smells, sights, and experiences.

[All photos remain the property of the Author: Tracy Rogers]

* Not her real name. Theary is a Khmer name meaning helper or aide.

** Skelton, T. (2009). Cross-Cultural Research. In R. Kitchin & N. Thrift (Eds.), International encyclopedia of human geography. (pp. 398-403). Amsterdam: Elsevier Science.