In Defense of Poster Sessions
I recently returned from the AEJMC (Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication) conference in Denver. This was my fourth year at AEJ, and I have to say it is always a great time, academically and socially. But I don't want to babble on and on about the conference itself. I do want to write about why I love poster sessions (also known as "Scholar-to-Scholar" sessions).
If you don't know what a poster session is, here's the deal. Some big academic conferences offer panel presentations and poster sessions. At the panel presentations, you get 3-5 people who each give a 10-15 minute formal presentation of their research. After this, there is sometimes a discussant who offers feedback and tries to tie all the presentations together. Finally there's a question and answer session that fills up the rest of the time. During poster sessions, a bunch of presenters are put in one room and each are given a 6'x4' space to visually present their research. Some print out PowerPoint slides, some design elaborate posters, and a few tack up abstracts and hope their magnetic personalities will attract people to their research. Attendees walk up and down rows of these poster areas, checking out what's there and stopping to talk to the authors of research they find interesting.
Now, the thing is that poster sessions have a stigma to them. Some think posters sessions are dumping grounds for B-list research. The good stuff gets put on panels, the OK stuff is scheduled for poster sessions, and the not-so-good stuff is rejected. I've bought into the myth. When I received the email accepting my co-authored paper (with Melissa Tully) for AEJMC (yay!) that added we were scheduled for a poster session (boo!), I wondered what was so good about those other papers that they got scheduled for panels, while we were stuck with the hoi poloi in poster land.
But then I remembered something. I like poster sessions. In fact, with every passing year, I think I like them more than panel presentations. Not only as a presenter, but as a conference attendee. Let's look at it from both sides...
As a presenter. Sure, when you are standing next to your poster, there are some awkward moments when someone is looking at your poster and you're not sure whether to engage with them or let them look in peace and quiet. But, you also get plenty of time to talk to those people who are actually interested in learning more about your research. Those conversations are more personalized and the feedback is more helpful because you can actually participate in a dialogue with someone who is interested in your work.
In addition to the attendees who stopped by our poster this year, our paper was assigned to two discussants. Both discussants took that responsibility very seriously. One brought a marked-up copy of our paper and an additional sheet full of comments. He sat down with us and walked us through a very thorough and helpful review of our paper. The other discussant was less formal, but was also very insightful. He stopped by and chatted with us for a long time, suggesting some research to look at and some academics to partner with in the future. He was also very encouraging of the type of research we were working on. I've never received that kind of feedback from a panel discussion before. One year I presented a paper at the National Communication Association conference to an audience of one. Turns out that one audience member was the discussant's partner and couldn't care less about any of our papers. I haven't touched that paper since.
As a participant. On more than one occasion, I've attended panels just to hear one paper. And when that paper has been a dud, I've walked out of those panels knowing I've just wasted an hour and half. That's not the case with poster sessions. There, you can walk straight to the poster you want to see and stay for as long as you want. If it turns out to be a dud, then wander around until you find a winner. If it's something you're really interested in, stay and chat for a while. In most cases, the presenter is happy to have a quality conversation with someone who actually cares about their research.
This year, I had a few preliminary interviews that were scheduled throughout the conference. This meant I couldn't easily attend many panels because I would have had to come in late or leave early. Instead, I went to most of the poster sessions. And it was great. I showed up when I was free, and I targeted specific people and papers. And I had some great conversations with new and seasoned scholars alike. I even happened upon a handful of great posters that I hadn't noticed in the program. I find serendipitous moments like that are more likely to occur during the poster sessions.
One more thing. The poster stigma isn't warranted. There is no quality difference between papers scheduled for panels and those scheduled for poster sessions. I've seen top notch researchers and award-winning papers at poster sessions. And I've seen duds at panels. It basically has to do with scheduling necessities due to time and space restrictions.
So if you get scheduled for a poster session, don't fret. I think you're actually quite fortunate.
Well, unless you have to find a way to carry your poster tube on the plane. Ask this guy.
Overhead Compartments, Haircuts, and Reverse Culture Shock
Before returning to the U.S., Melissa and I talked about whether or not life in America would feel strange to us. Since Nairobi is a very cosmopolitan city, I didn't expect much "reverse culture shock," but I was really curious to see what things would feel different. Now that I've been back in America for 24 hours, here are the two things that have felt most (culturally) shocking so far:
1) Halfway through the flight from London to Nairobi, there was a woman struggling with her overhead compartment. I would guess the woman was in her late-30's. She was fairly petite and was traveling with two boys that had to be younger than 10. I didn't see why she opened the compartment initially, but I could see from my aisle seat 20 rows back that she could not get it to close back up. Either she wasn't tall enough to push it all the way up, or the latch was stuck, keeping the lock from catching it in place. Either way, I sat there watching her for a good 30 second before I finally decided to get up and help her. I checked and one of the latches was indeed jammed, so I fixed it and closed the compartment. She said "thanks" and I said "no problem" and went back to my seat. But as I walked back to my seat, I realized that if I were still in Kenya (on a matatu or bus, perhaps), there would have been at least one person (but probably more) to jump up and help her before I got there. Thirty seconds isn't terribly long, but it's enough time for anyone sitting in the 20 rows between me and her to respond to her struggle. But this is the West, where unfortunately the bystander effect reigns supreme.
2) This morning, I went to Great Clips to get a haircut. I have to go to a wedding next weeked, and my hair was starting to get a bit out of control. I walked in the door and stepped up to the counter. A friendly woman with scissors in hand backed away from her client and met me at the register. "Hello, welcome to Great Clips." I said hi. Then she asked, "What's your phone number?" I blanked for a second, but finally fumbled it out. She rapidly entered the numbers into her computer. Then she asked, "What's your last name?" I answered. Then "How do you spell that?" I answered, she typed. Then "Have you ever been here before?" I answered, she typed. Then "What's your address?" I answered, she typed. Then "What's your first name?" I answered. "How do you spell that?" I answered, she typed. "You can take a seat. There is only one person in front of you, so the wait won't be long." I removed the latest copy of "Car & Driver" magazine from an empty seat and sat down exhausted. I felt like I had been assaulted with questions. I used to tell people that Kenya could use a class in organizational communication, since you could go in an office and easily wait for 20-30 minutes with little to no idea of what you're waiting for. But if you're not used to it, the efficiency model of most American businesses can feel pretty jarring as well.
Slum Tourism in Kibera: Education or Exploitation?
Recently I was contacted by the author of a popular Kenya guidebook. This author wondered if I knew of any responsible, community-oriented groups that do Kibera slum tours. I wrote back that one of the organizations I’ve worked with offers these tours. The group sponsors several projects in the community, and I know some of the people who lead the tours, so I felt comfortable sending in their information.
But what I didn’t address is whether anyone should be taking these tours in the first place. So, is slum tourism a good thing for Kibera?
It depends on who you ask.
Slum tours in Kibera started around 2007 after a few travel agencies noticed Kibera was generating more and more attention following high profile visits (from people like then-Senator Barack Obama, U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, and Chris Rock) and the release of popular films shot in Kibera (such as The Constant Gardener and Hot Sun Films’ Kibera Kid). Those offering these tours claim they are trying to educate visitors on what life is like in Kibera and using the opportunity to help support community-based projects. They add they simply are responding to consumer demand. After all, if no one wanted to go, no company would offer these tours. Critics charge that these tours are exploitative, demeaning and that these tour companies do little to help the community. The lively (and sometimes inflammatory) debate on this forum sums up some of the major arguments for and against Kibera slum tourism.
During my interviews with Kibera residents, I’ve asked what they think of life in Kibera and what they believe people outside say about Kibera. Sometimes their responses to these two questions are similar, but more often than not, they’ll say yes, life in Kibera is a struggle but it also has many positives (ex. cheap food and housing, talented youth, a strong community) that people outside don’t know about. Those who see this disconnect explain people outside are ignorant of what life is truly like in Kibera or blame the media for covering only the negative stories of Kibera.
So how do we change their opinions, I would ask. Most reply the media needs to also report on the positive stories of Kibera. Others say people should to come to Kibera and see what life is like for themselves. Here’s a quote from one resident in the “come and see” camp:
“Those people who talk about Kibera, let them come to Kibera. For those who say that there is no security, let them come. Let them walk around Kibera…Let them see for themselves that they can walk freely around Kibera…Let them come and see how Kibera looks like and maybe interact with the people a little bit socially. And then they will know that the people of Kibera, they are very lovely people…When [the visitors] go back to where they came from, they will not have that negative perspective in their minds. So now the same-same visitors, outsiders, will also help in preaching that Kibera is not a bad place. So you see it will now be a chain.”
Sounds like an endorsement of slum tourism, right?
If so, then how do you reconcile that point of view with this one offered by a different Kibera resident?
“[Tourists are] paying to come to Kibera and take some pictures of Kibera, but the Kibera people are not having anything. They don’t have any share. They are not being given anything…Their lives are just getting worse or just being the same as it was yesterday. It’s not changing.”
Some upper class Kenyans once told me the U.S. Embassy offers to give Americans a tour of Kibera followed by lunch at the Fairview – a plush hotel popular with foreigners. This may or may not be true, but it reflects the view that slum tourism is a cruel farce that does little to change the mindset of the tourists and the livelihoods of the toured.
While I do not pretend to speak on behalf of Kibera residents, I would argue there are appropriate and inappropriate ways to visit Kibera. Vetting the tourism companies is a must, but I think a lot has to do with the person going on the tour. So I have some suggestions for things to consider before, during and after you take a tour of Kibera.
1) Question your motivations for going. Do you want to understand how good, hardworking, intelligent people find themselves in difficult life situations or do you want to see “large-scale suffering” so you can tell your friends you “survived” East Africa’s biggest slum? Be honest. When I drive by a car crash, I want to look. It’s normal to be curious about life’s unpleasant elements. But if you think Kibera is a car crash and you want to get a better view of the carnage, then you don’t understand where you’re going and you should stay home.
2) Do your homework. Try to understand what life is like in Kibera before you get there. There are some great pieces you can read. For starters, check out Timothy Parson’s article on the history of Kibera. Order Genesis’s book with personal accounts of Kibera residents. Or if you’d rather watch than read, check out two community reporting projects on YouTube: Kibera TV and Kibera News Network.
3) Leave your camera at home. Imagine for a moment that your child was playing in your front yard and a group of rich Kenyan tourists came in and started taking pictures of him/her. You’d freak out, right? If you really feel the need to take pictures of people or their homes, then make sure you act respectfully and ask for permission. Kibera residents are very leery of cameras. They assume (in some cases, rightly) that Westerners will come in, take photos, and then sell those photos. They say these photographers are “eating on them.” Also don’t be surprised if people ask you to give them money in exchange for their photo. But if you do this, you need to understand that you are reinforcing an unfortunate standard that community reporting projects (like the ones mentioned above) struggle to overcome on a daily basis.
4) Don’t assume you understand Kibera after spending a couple of hours there. I’ve been there 10 months and still learn new things every day. Kibera is a very complex place. People like to say 1 million residents, but population figures are contested. Not every organization is doing what they say they are doing. Not everyone is impoverished (I know some who have good jobs but would rather financially support their families and neighbors than move to a wealthy area and leave behind those that helped raise them). Now that you’ve been there, go back and read those articles and watch those videos I mentioned in #2.
5) Don’t think Nairobi is a city of contradictions. Sure, you can get a mocha and french toast at Nairobi Java House, go on a Kibera tour in the late morning, and then grab some upscale Indian food at Yaya Centre for lunch without traveling very far. But understand the Java House/Yaya/Westgate life does not exist in spite of Nairobi’s slum population, they exist because of Nairobi’s slum population. Cheap labor built those massive structures. Cheap labor stocked the shelves. And cheap labor keeps them running. That labor walks home at night to sleep in Kibera, or Korogocho, or Mathare, etc.
I was hoping to go on one of these “official” Kibera tours just to see how they were handled, but I didn’t get a chance. Although I wouldn’t call these “tours” in any traditional sense, I’ve taken a number of people with me to visit Kibera. I’ve shown them where I work, I’ve introduced them to my friends who are trying to find ways to use their talents to help themselves and the community, and I’ve taken them around to give them a sense of what life in Kibera is like.
Am I part of the problem? Maybe. But I think these trips have had a positive impact on the people who visited. But perhaps this impact has been at the expense of Kibera residents.
I’m curious to see what others think. Gone on one of these tours? Think they are ridiculous and insulting? Let me know.
New Blog Shout Outs!!
I have some friends who are new to the blogging world, so I wanted to give some quick shout outs to them.
- joskey - Josphat is the Film School Coordinator at the Kibera Film School. He will be blogging about the happenings at the film school and his own personal projects.
- Bonny’s Writing Space – Bonface is a new trainee at the Kibera Film School. He plans to blog about his new adventures into filmmaking and his other creative ideas.
- Emily Vraga - Emily is also a PhD candidate at the School of Journalism and Mass Communication at UW-Madison. She’ll be blogging about current events in politics and new media.
So add these blogs to your readings lists…
Leaving Nairobi – Melissa’s Take
On her site, Melissa has a nice post about wrapping up her research in Kenya. While the post is specific to her work, here's a passage I could have written almost word for word about my own time here:
Making these contacts is so critical to conducting any fieldwork, but it's especially important if you need to interview people and build case studies. Without good connections, that you build into good relationships, it's pretty difficult to get anything useful accomplished. In some cases, these contacts become friends--gasp, yes, research contacts can be friends. Despite traditional views about the researcher as someone who is somehow removed from the situation, this is just not the case. As others have shown, you, the researcher are involved in whatever it may be that you're studying.
Anyone who thinks an ethnographer working in the social sciences needs to be "detached" from the research community so that s/he can "objectively" observe the situation hasn't done an ethnography before. Try it. Then we'll see what you say.
It’s My Turn to Read: Corruption in Kenya
Even though I’ve had Michela Wrong’s It’s Our Turn to Eat: The Story of a Kenyan Whistle-Blower sitting on my proverbial shelf for over a year, I hadn’t found the time to pick it up and read it until just recently. It’s the story of John Githongo, an idealistic anti-corruption advocate turned government set-piece turned whistle-blower. After heading up the Kenya branch of Transparency International for a few years, Githongo was appointed anti-corruption czar when Mwai Kibaki won the presidency in 2002. Githongo took the position thinking he could contribute to a new dawn in Kenyan politics led by a party verbally committed to renouncing the crooked policies and practices of Daniel Arap Moi’s 24 years of money laundering and ethnic favoritism. Githongo soon discovered this “change” was more about changing who was favored/corrupt rather than eradicating favoritism/corruption. Githongo was disgusted by this betrayal, so he began documenting abuses and secretly made audio recordings of government ministers candidly talking about their shady deals. Eventually he helped expose a government scam in which over $750 million in government contracts were awarded to “Anglo Leasing” – little more than a mailing address in Liverpool that on paper masqueraded as a supplier for a variety of government services (these contracts were never fulfilled). Wrong’s book follows Githongo's story while providing much context (some parts feeling a bit too tangential) on Kenya’s political and economic climate. It’s worth reading, although I felt like the book was stalling in its early chapters.
One of Wrong’s underlying themes is that aid organizations and Western donors have been helping to support this kind of corruption by providing stacks and stacks of money to governments without expecting much accountability in return. It’s doubly disappointing that, one, Githongo’s efforts had very little legal impact on those responsible for Anglo Leasing (there’s been little to no follow-though by Kenyan executive or judicial powers) and, two, that the revelation of large-scale and systemic corruption has had very little impact on the foreign aid Kenya receives (governments and aid organizations, having felt the catharsis of giving, fail to track who is benefiting from these "gifts"). It seems more and more people are moving away from the Jeffrey Sachs approach to poverty reduction and toward the “stop screwing our county with aid that hurts local entrepreneurship and encourages bad governance” camp. Dambisa Moyo’s Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How There Is a Better Way for Africa is the newest addition to my bookshelf. Luckily it’s a short one. It might even be the perfect length for a flight from Nairobi to Chicago.
Another thing…in a sense, Wrong is arguing that corruption is a norm in Kenyan society. Not ‘some Kenyan politicians are corrupt’ or ‘many people have to deal with corruption’ in Kenya. Rather, she’s saying corruption is a regular part of Kenyan life, and those who work to stop corruption are the exception. “The contents of John’s dossier[…]matter far less than the fact that they emerged in the first place to challenge system” (p. 322). While this is a pretty damning argument, I have to say it resonates with some of my personal experiences here. Now, to say corruption is a norm is not to say that people like it. When my taxi driver was pulled over by two police officers on a dark road and forced to pay a 500KSH bribe, he was pissed. He immediately called a friend to complain about what just happened. But not liking something and not expecting something are two different things. Not too long ago, I was caught up with a few others in a situation where some guys took something of ours and were asking for a bribe to get it back. I wanted to be outraged by this, but most people I talked to gave the practical advice of “better to pay now than to wait and see what the price will be tomorrow.” So we paid, and we got it back. Still, what was the most baffling to me was the other most common response Kenyans gave to this story: “this is Kenya” (or it’s variant “TIA: this is Africa”). This is the same phrase a friend calmly stated after telling me that the money a sponsor sent for his school fees was embezzled. I was pissed at the injustice. How could anyone steal money from a young man trying to go to school? Why wasn’t this thief in jail? My friend was also upset. But he wasn’t so caught up in the injustice of the situation as he was disappointed that his time had come to be victim. I'm not saying that Kenyans are complacent. In fact, I think most are tired of the corruption and tired of being victims . But changing a norm is much harder than exposing one crime or prosecuting one criminal. It's a cultural shift.
I think it will happen. But it will take time.
Looking for a Research Assistant in Kibera?
“Maybe, you can promote me?”
You’ll hear these words a lot if you spend any time in Kenya. Taxi drivers, hawkers, safari guides, etc. For the most part they just want your business at that moment, not necessarily for you to “promote” them to the world. But now I want to do a real promotion for anyone out there who is looking for a research assistant for doing work in Kibera.
As you may know, I’ve been in Kenya doing research in Kibera and Mathare on individuals and groups that are producing media in Nairobi’s slums. I planned to do some interviews with Kibera residents following the screenings of Togetherness Supreme, but I wanted to hire a research assistant for two reasons: first, my Swahili is poor and my Sheng is even worse and second, in my experience, some people will tell me what they think I want to hear rather than what they really want to say. I thought by having a fellow Kibera resident conduct the interviews, respondents would be more likely to speak freely.
Genesis Njeru Ngari has experience doing interviews from working on his book project, he can speak fluently in English, Swahili, and Sheng (and he’s been adding some German to the mix), and likes to meet new people. So I thought he’d be good at the job, but I was still really impressed at his skill and professionalism. I drafted up a questionnaire, and then the two of us met so Genesis could make suggestions and help me with the question phrasing. Then during two movie screenings, Genesis went around and recruited participants, making sure to get a good mix of men/women, old/young, etc. For the first 5 interviews, the two of us worked together, doing the interviews in tandem. Once Genesis got the swing of things, I let him take over. He did the rest of the interviews (34 in all) in 4 days, calling each respondent and setting up times and locations to meet. During the interviews, he switched back and forth between Swahili, Sheng, and English depending on the interviewee’s language of choice, but he always made sure to immediately translate any non-English responses for my benefit. He also made good clean audio recordings from my digital recorder, so transcription has been easy (well, as easy as transcribing ever is).
So if you’re looking for someone to help you with your research, I could not recommend Genesis more. You can contact him through his website, or you can comment here and I’ll put you in touch with him.
Togetherness Supreme Released (Screening 5 June in Kibera)
While I've been in Kenya, I've spent a lot of my time working with Hot Sun Foundation in Kibera. Their sister group/film production unit Hot Sun Films has just released Togetherness Supreme, a feature-length film about three youth from different ethnic groups that get caught up in the 2007 presidential political campaigns that led to intense fighting in Kibera and throughout the country. Right now, the film is being shown in mobile screenings around Nairobi, especially in the city's slum areas. Here's the trailer...
The word is out that this Saturday, 5 June, there will be a big screening at Kamukunji grounds in Kibera. You can find it here. There will be parking and security available. Community performances start at 3pm, and the screening will begin around 6:30pm. See you there!