CHAPTER 6: THE RESEARCH STORY
6.3. Limitations of narrative research
6.3.2. Limitations in the Rwandan context
Until quite recently, Rwanda has been described by various researchers as a military-state, or even a military dictatorship. Although Rwanda is officially a democracy, practicing democratic principles, this is not always the reality. Until today, whether due to high levels of trauma or government policy, there remains for many an atmosphere of fear, suspicion, uncertainty and insecurity. This level of fear is difficult to understand until one is fully immersed in the Rwandan context.
In conversations with Rwandans prior to traveling to Rwanda, I was aware that they seemed slightly guarded in what they said, but I could not really work out why. People did warn me that I needed to be careful about what I said and the questions I asked once I was in Rwanda. I took this warning seriously, but also quite lightly. On spending a week in Rwanda in 2005, I was fully baptized in a high dose of Rwandan fear, suspicion and paranoia. By the end of that week, I was looking over my shoulder at every moment, thinking and rethinking every word I
spoke and running conversations over and over in my mind to pinpoint possible things to be suspicious of.
On the second trip, in the company of two friends who had no prior knowledge or experience of the Rwandan situation, I was surprised to find that all three of us were fearful and suspicious by the end of our two week stay. A number of people said to us that president Kagame is ‘very clever’ and has an omniscient presence through his intelligence system. In casual conversation, mention would be made time and again of Kagame’s intricate spy network, and that ‘anyone we talk to could be one of those spies’. Consequences for saying the wrong thing ran from
‘mysteriously disappearing’ or being in a sudden fatal accident to at the very least, being barred from the country, which has indeed happened to the Belgian
researcher, Filip Reijntjens.
The fear and suspicion is of such heights that after distributing a newsy, light newsletter about my first trip to Rwanda to Rwandan friends, I was horrified to find out that one of the Rwandans I had spent some time with during that trip felt the need to carry his passport constantly for fear that he might need to flee the country as a result of a passing comment I made that might be read as being critical of the government. On considering publishing an article on my research thus far, a Burundian friend sent an email in which he wrote, “remember that there is quite a strong presence of RPF militants in [South Africa], so be careful who you talk to there” (Email correspondence, 13 April, 2007). According to several Rwandans, a military person chose to embark on a study in the same field as mine with the express purpose of keeping an eye on my own and other projects researching the Rwandan situation. During my research, I have become more and more wary of talking to people and trusting people. I have become suspicious of every Rwandan I have interacted with and have found myself wondering, after every conversation, what that person wanted me to think and why; what agenda they had, what card was up their sleeve. It has become difficult for me to enter into a conversation with a Rwandan without wondering what is going on at a level I perhaps cannot perceive or interpret.
It is not clear whether this fear and suspicion is grounded in anything real or is the most real aspect of Rwandan society imaginable. An outsider reading this may
well think this level of fear and absolute paranoia bordering on the absurd. For a Rwandan, it is second nature, a way of life. For a Rwandan, it is unthinkable that I do not take their warnings ‘not to trust anybody, even me’ absolutely seriously. To be told by the vast majority of Rwandans I have interacted with that ‘even what I say may not be true, even I have an agenda’ is a potential limitation of my research. Focus groups, interviewing strangers and formal interviews of ordinary people become a challenge in this context. A relatively close friend has told me that he cannot tell me the truth because of fear and because of a lifetime of speaking in layers. This pervasive atmosphere of fear in Rwanda hinders open dialogue. This is what led me to reject the idea of a focus group. Some Rwandans I spoke to felt it would be a waste of time to put Rwandans of different ethnic groups, or even the same ethnic group, in the same room, and expect to gain any meaningful insight into the Rwandan situation.
This is the background which led to my chosen research methodology, which developed during the research journey and differs greatly from my original
intentions. Analysing this very issue, of fear and suspicion, mistrust and paranoia, has formed an important part of my research, and has given a clearer
understanding of the context in which healing and reconciliation need to occur.
Being immersed in it myself has allowed me to begin to grasp the complexity of being in relationship with someone yet never fully trusting them; loving my country but never being sure of where I stand in it; dreaming of reconciliation during the day, but having nightmares of being hacked to pieces by a neighbour in the night.
Thus my greatest limitation was this atmosphere of fear, mistrust, suspicion and paranoia. This limitation was also my ethical bane. To gain a person’s trust in the Rwandan context means so much more than it does in any other context I have operated in. At no point did I want to exploit that trust for the purpose of my research. And yet this happened in spite of my best intentions. One example of this was the betrayal one Rwandan friend experienced when he fully realized that every word he spoke in casual conversation with me had the potential of
becoming a quote in my research project. I had assumed it would be commonly understood that anything said relating to my research topic could contribute to my final research product but this assumption was not shared with those I was in conversation with. After this experience, which took place early in my research, I
became a lot more explicit about my desire to use conversations in my research.
Because conversations often developed unplanned, over breakfast, or drinks in a restaurant, it would be difficult to ask permission to use conversations before they happened. But I became a lot more conscious about asking after a stimulating conversation whether that was ‘on the record’ or not, and whether I could use it in my research project. I also talked to my Rwandan friends about my research methodology and the implications that would have for them. After understanding my approach, most Rwandans I interacted with continued to be open in
conversations and supported my project.
As the project developed I began to see it less as mine and myself less as researcher versus researched, but more and more I saw it as a shared project to which we were all contributing for a common purpose. Especially once the life story research began, I had the feeling people were sharing details for the
express purpose of allowing me deeper insight into difficult issues so that more of the ‘truth’ would be revealed. Nevertheless, my ethical over-stepping of the boundaries in 2005 resulted in much regret, and it is a testimony to the
tremendous generosity and kindness of the person in question that our friendship has continued in such good faith.
Liisa Malkki, whose ethnographic research was amongst Burundian Hutu refugees in Tanzania, writes that the success of her fieldwork was not so much the result of “a determination to ferret out 'the facts' as on a willingness to leave some stones unturned” (1995, 61). She writes that she displayed her trust in her informants in not prying where she was not wanted but accepting that which they offered her. She argues that there is no guarantee that the 'hidden' will reveal to us what we are looking for and that is may be better research not to extract the truth just to get to the bottom of the truth (1995, 61). I approached my research similarly, not ruthlessly digging into things that people avoided but allowing all those I spoke with the space to withdraw, to change the subject, to share as much or as little as they were comfortable with, believing that in this very dynamic lay a lot of the 'truth' or relevance of the unique context being explored.