The Practice of Qualitative Research:

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Brief Contents
1. Preface
2. Acknowledgments
3. About the Authors
4. PART I: TAKING A QUALITATIVE APPROACH TO
RESEARCH
1. 1 An Invitation to Qualitative Research
2. 2 Paradigmatic Approaches to Qualitative Research
3. 3 Designing Qualitative Approaches to Research
4. 4 The Ethics of Social Research
5. PART II: QUALITATIVE RESEARCH PRACTICE
1. 5 In-Depth Interviewing
2. 6 Focus Group Research
3. 7 Ethnography
4. 8 Case Study
5. 9 Researching Mass Media: Images and Texts, by Heather
McIntosh and Lisa Cuklanz
6. 10 Mixed Methods Research
6. PART III: TYING THE STRANDS TOGETHER
1. 11 Analysis and Interpretation of Qualitative Data
2. 12 Writing and Representation of Qualitative Research Projects
3. Conclusion: Future Directions of Qualitative Research Inquiry
7. References
8. Index
Detailed Contents
1. Preface
2. Acknowledgments
3. About the Authors
4. PART I: TAKING A QUALITATIVE APPROACH TO
RESEARCH
1. 1 An Invitation to Qualitative Research
1. What’s Wrong With This Picture?
2. What Is Qualitative Research?
1. Dimensions of Qualitative Research
1. Ontology
2. Epistemology
3. Methodology
4. Methods
3. A Holistic Approach to Research
1. Quantitative Research and Positivism
2. What Kinds of Questions and Problems Can Be
Addressed With Qualitative Research?
3. Illustrations of Qualitative Studies
1. Exploratory
2. Descriptive
3. Explanatory
4. What to Learn From This Book
5. Glossary
6. Discussion Questions
7. Resources
2. 2 Paradigmatic Approaches to Qualitative Research
1. What Are the Major Paradigmatic Approaches to Qualitative
Research?
2. Positivism
3. The Interpretive Strand
1. Symbolic Interactionism
2. Dramaturgy
3. Phenomenology
4. Ethnomethodology
 4. The Critical Strand
1. Postmodernism
2. Post-structuralism
3. Feminisms
4. Critical Race Theory
5. Queer Theory
5. Conclusion
6. Glossary
7. Discussion Questions
8. Resources
3. 3 Designing Qualitative Approaches to Research
1. How Do We Know What We Know?
2. What Is a Qualitative Approach to Research? Qualitative
Research Inquiry: A Dynamic Dance
1. How Does a Quantitative Research Design Differ From
a Qualitative Research Design?
2. Creating a Research Design: Step-by-Step
1. Step 1. Reflect on Your Own Research Standpoint
Before You Begin
2. Step 2. Maintain a Tight Link Between the
Research Question and Your Research Design
3. Step 3. Formulate Your Research Question: What
Do You Want to Ask?
4. Step 4. Drawing a Research Sample
5. Step 5. Determine Method of Data Collection
6. Step 6. Determine How You Will Analyze and
Interpret Your Data
7. Step 7. Determine How You Will Write Up Your
Study
8. Step 8. Detail Any Issues of Validity and Any
Limitations in Your Study
3. Conclusion
4. Glossary
5. Discussion Questions
6. Resources
4. 4 The Ethics of Social Research
1. Why Is Ethical Practice Important?
 2. A Short History of Ethics in Research
1. The Tuskegee Syphilis Study
2. Further Developments in the History of Research Ethics
3. When Ethical Standards Get Compromised: Case Study
of Ethics Violations by the American Psychological
Association
3. How Are Research Participants Protected Today?
1. The Informed Consent Letter
2. The Principle and the Reality
4. Beyond Informed Consent: What Are the Ethical Dilemmas
in Social Research?
1. The Ethical Predicament of Deception in Research
2. An Ethics Tale: When an Undergraduate Research
Project Turns Into an Ethical Conundrum
3. The Gray Ethical Waters Encountered by Ethnographers
5. How Can I Observe Ethical Values in My Research Practice?
6. Do New Technologies Impact the Practice of Ethical
Research?
1. Overcoming Ethical Dilemmas of Social Software
Technologies
7. Conclusion
8. Glossary
9. Discussion Questions
10. Resources
5. PART II: QUALITATIVE RESEARCH PRACTICE
1. 5 In-Depth Interviewing
1. What Is an In-Depth Interview?
1. When Is It Appropriate to Use In-Depth Interviews?
2. How Do You Design and Conduct an In-Depth Interview
Study?
1. Interview Structures and Levels of Control
2. Preparing an Interview Guide
3. How Do You Conduct an In-Depth Interview?
1. How Do I Interview Across Differences Between Me
and My Participant?
2. Insider or Outsider?
 1. Example: Gender Differences—What Women Are
Talking About
2. Example: Knowing What Differences Matter in
Any Given Research Project
3. Reflexivity and Difference
1. Interview Tips for Dealing With a Reluctant
Interview Participant: A Scenario
4. Peer-to-Peer Reciprocal Interviewing
1. Limitations and Risks of Peer Interviewing
5. Online In-Depth Interviewing
1. Benefits and Drawbacks of Conducting Online
Research
4. How Do You Analyze and Interpret Interviews?
5. Conclusion
6. Glossary
7. Discussion Questions
8. Resources
2. 6 Focus Group Research
1. What Are Focus Group Interviews?
1. Some Background on Focus Groups
2. Differences Between Focus Group Interviews and In-
Depth Interviews During Data Collection
2. Online Focus Groups
3. Ethics and Focus Group Research
1. How to Design a Focus Group Project: Step-by-Step
1. 1. Determine Your Research Problem
2. 2. Determine Your Focus Group Format
3. 3. Determine Your Focus Group Sample: Whom
Will You Interview? How Many Focus Groups and
Individuals per Focus Group?
4. 4. Determine the Type of Focus Group You Seek:
Heterogeneous or Homogeneous
5. 5. Determine How You Will Structure Your Focus
Group Study
6. 6. Determine What Types of Questions You Want
to Ask and How You Will Structure the Overall
Question-Asking Process
 7. 7. Determine How You Will Set Up Your Focus
Group Environment to Ensure High and Ongoing
Participation and Satisfaction With the Overall
Focus Group Experience
8. 8. Select the Moderator and Determine His or Her
Role in the Focus Group
9. 9. Analyze and Represent Focus Group Data
2. A Class Focus Group Exercise: The “Freshman 15”
4. Conclusion
5. Glossary
6. Discussion Questions
7. Resources
3. 7 Ethnography
1. What Is Ethnography?
2. Using an Ethnographic Approach: When Is It Appropriate?
1. How Do You Get Started? Negotiating the Research
Setting
1. Gaining Entry Into the Setting
2. Your Research Role in the Setting
2. The Ethics of Deception in Ethnographic Research
3. Ethnographic Traps in “Going Native”
4. Exiting the Field
3. Virtual Ethnographic Methods
4. How Do You Gather and Manage Your Ethnographic Data?
1. Tips for Student Researchers in the Field: Common
Foibles to Avoid
2. Keeping Field Notes
1. Tips for the Beginner Taking Field Notes
2. Analyzing Your Field Notes: The Ethnographic
Puzzle
3. Common Analysis and Interpretation Problems
5. Conclusion
6. Glossary
7. Discussion Questions
8. Resources
4. 8 Case Study
1. What Is a Case Study?
 1. Emergence of a Case Study Approach
2. Types of Case Study Methodologies
3. Case Study Design
2. Reasons for Adopting a Case Study Approach
1. How Can I Generalize My Findings From a Single Case
Study?
2. Step-by-Step Approach to Conducting a Case Study
Project
1. Step 1. Determine Your Research Question. What
Do You Want to Know?
2. Step 2. Review the Literature of Your Overall
Research Interest
3. Step 3. Select a Case Study Research Design
4. Step 4. Determine the Methods of Data Collection
5. Step 5. Analyze and Interpret Your Case Study
Data
6. Step 6. Report Your Findings
3. Why Conduct Case Study Research?
4. Case Study Examples
1. Case Study 1. Toward Social Justice in a Private
Elementary School: The Case of St. Malachy
2. Case Study 2. Understanding the Function, Climate,
and Maintenance of Sororities on College Campuses (a
Hypothetical Case Study)
5. Conclusion
6. Glossary
7. Discussion Questions
8. Resources
5. 9 Researching Mass Media: Images and Texts
1. What Is Content Analysis?
1. Historical Background
2. Strengths and Weaknesses of Quantitative and Qualitative
Content Analysis
3. Qualitative Content Analysis of Online Texts
4. How Is the Research Database for Content Analysis Defined
and Delimited?
1. Research Databases for Mediated Texts
 2. Online Texts and Materials
3. Defining or Delimiting the Text for Analysis
1. How Is the Text Analyzed?
2. Computer-Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis
3. Analyzing Texts Without Analytic Software
5. Making a Theoretical Contribution
6. Conclusion
7. Glossary
8. Discussion Questions
9. Resources
10. Appendix: Formal Analysis in Film and Television
6. 10 Mixed Methods Research
1. What Is Mixed Methods Research?
1. What Are the Advantages in Using a Mixed Methods
Research Design?
2. What Are Some Drawbacks to Using a Mixed Methods
Research Design?
2. What Is a Mixed Methods Research Design?
3. What Is a Qualitatively Driven Approach to Mixed Methods
Research Inquiry?
1. Case Study 1: Studying Sexual Abuse
2. Case Study 2: Studying Health Inequalities
4. Why Do Qualitative Researchers Use Mixed Methods?
1. Steps in Conducting a Qualitatively Driven Mixed
Methods Project
1. Step 1. What Is Your Research Problem?
2. Step 2. What Mixed Methods Research Design?
3. Step 3. What Ethical Issues Should I Consider?
4. Step 4. What Specific Data Will I Collect?
5. Step 5. What Type of Analysis Will You Conduct
on Your Data?
6. Step 6. How Will You Interpret and Write Up Your
Study?
5. What to Consider When Conducting a Mixed Methods
Research Project
1. Important Ingredients for Effective Collaboration in a
Team-Based Mixed Methods Project
 6. Conclusion
7. Glossary
8. Discussion Questions
9. Resources
6. PART III: TYING THE STRANDS TOGETHER
1. 11 Analysis and Interpretation of Qualitative Data
1. What Is Qualitative Data Analysis?
1. Steps in Analyzing and Interpreting Qualitative Data
1. Step 1. Data Preparation
2. Step 2. Data Exploration
3. Step 3. Specification and Reduction of Data
2. What Is Coding?
3. A Grounded Theory Approach to Coding
1. Example of the Grounded Theory Coding Process
4. How Do You Code Data?
1. How Can Writing a Memo Assist With Coding Data?
1. Step 4. Interpretation
2. How Do You Establish Validity and Reliability of
Interpretation?
3. Reliability and Validity Checks
5. Software for Qualitative Data Analysis
1. Which Software Program Should I Choose?
6. How Can I Use a Software Program to Analyze My
Qualitative Data?
7. Conclusion
8. Glossary
9. Discussion Questions
10. Resources
2. 12 Writing and Representation of Qualitative Research Projects
1. Who Is Your Audience?
2. Getting It Done: Writing Up Your Qualitative Research
Project
1. 1. Title Page and Abstract
2. 2. Introduction
1. Topic, Purpose, Significance, and Guiding
Research Questions
2. How Do I Write Up My Research Question?
 3. 3. Literature Review
4. 4. Research Design
1. Sampling
2. Methods of Data Collection
3. Ethical Considerations
5. 5. Data Analysis and Interpretation
6. 6. Conclusion and Implications
7. 7 and 8. References and Appendices
3. Editing and Revising Your Research Paper
4. How Do I Represent the Voices of My Respondents?
1. Qualitative Approaches to Representations
1. The Postmodern Turn Toward Representation
2. Experimental Writing Styles
2. Writing Artfully: Arts-Based Approaches to Writing Up
Qualitative Research Studies
1. The Rise of Arts-Based Research Inquiry and
Creative Writing Forms
2. Arts-Based Writing
3. Poetic Approaches to Representation
3. Conclusion
4. Glossary
5. Discussion Questions
6. Resources
3. Conclusion: Future Directions of Qualitative Research
Inquiry
1. The Future of Qualitative Research: Coming at Things
Differently
2. What’s New in Qualitative Research Practice?
3. Emergent Methods: New Approaches to Old Methods
1. Arts-Based Research Practices
2. Autoethnographic Method
3. Movement of Qualitative Approaches Toward Mixed
Methods Inquiry
4. New Technologies in the Service of Qualitative
Research Inquiry
5. Rise of Big Data and the Increasing Importance of
Qualitative Approaches
 4. Impact of Online Research on the Process of Qualitative
Inquiry
5. Staying Centered and Building Ethical Knowledge
6. Glossary
7. Discussion Questions
8. Resources
4. References
5. Index
Preface
The third edition of The Practice of Qualitative Research continues to be
committed to providing students and teachers with a practice model of
qualitative approaches to research. Differing from other qualitative methods
texts, it provides a problem-centric approach to engaging with qualitative
research by linking the practice of any research method to specific research
questions. Underscored is the importance of having a “tight fit” between the
specific research question and the method or set of methods selected to
answer a given research problem. Engaging with a qualitative approach to
research that often calls for understanding the lived experiences of research
participants requires a range of listening and reflexive skills that calls on the
researcher, who is the data collector, to be reflective about the values and
agendas he or she may bring into any given research endeavor. To practice
research reflexively means to be aware of your own researcher standpoint,
that is the set of values and attitudes you bring to any given research
project, as well as an examination of those philosophical assumptions you
have about the nature of the social world.

The third edition, while remaining true to these goals, also integrates the
most current scholarly work in the area of qualitative approaches to
research and integrates the use of online methods and computer-assisted
qualitative data analysis software that can offer students new ways of
collecting and analyzing data that allow for the asking of and addressing
new questions.

The third edition continues to add to the pedagogical lessons garnered from
the collective wisdom and feedback of the students and instructors who
have used this book along with those insights I have gained in the teaching
of qualitative research during the course of my teaching career.

Major Themes and New Features

Creating a Pedagogy of Engagement

My pedagogical experience in the research methods classroom has been
that students need to be engaged with the learning of research methods. It is
critical to provide them with a range of hands-on activities that allow them
to take learning risks and to apply the more abstract ideas they have learned
in the classroom setting in a more formal way. The in-classroom mini
exercises in each chapter allow instructors to go “back and forth” with their
students while engaging them in reflexive learning through small-group
exercise engagements. Students then conduct their own small research
projects as a way for them to put together the strands of their learning.
Toward that end, the third edition contains a step-by-step process of
engagement to offer guidance for students carrying out their research
projects using a range of research methods. There is also a chapter devoted
to writing up an entire research project in a step-by-step format that offers
students a general research methods project template to guide them through
the research project as a whole.

I have observed how critical it is for students to share what they have found
difficult in the application of concepts to their own research activities. The
in-class mini exercises serve to solidify a student’s knowledge and skills
regarding a specific method. Each chapter also contains a set of discussion
questions that serve to engage students and their peers in the nitty-gritty of
issues involved in the practice of a particular method. Instructors and
students also have access to methods-specific websites listed at the end of
each chapter with an annotated description of each website for further
enrichment.

All pedagogical features contained in the book are aimed at engaging

students in a dialogue aimed to place them in a dynamic communication
process whose goal is to challenge their preconceived ideas about how
knowledge is built. Creating a dialogue among students involves asking
them to interrogate their ideas by tracing their reasoning behind a given
perspective or conclusion they reach as they go about learning and
practicing new research methods skills. In addition, dialogue encourages
students to work together by deeply listening to each other’s points of view
and to explore and engage with the course material as a whole.

A Practice Model
The third edition continues to provide a practice model of learning about
qualitative research. This means several things. First, the field of qualitative
research is framed as a process. By emphasizing process, students are
shown how researchers make decisions along the way that impact the
research findings. Second, each chapter offers a holistic approach to
research. A holistic approach emphasizes the foundations on which research
as a whole is based—the text emphasizes the interconnections between
research questions and methods. It presents clear examples that illustrate the
linkage of theory and methods. Also retained are key features from the
second edition. Inspired by Erving Goffman’s notion of “back stage” and
“front stage,” the book again presents “behind-the-scenes” boxes written by
leading qualitative researchers. Each behind- the-scenes piece offers
students a window into the real-world practice of qualitative research,
which at times is messy and unpredictable. Like the other key features
throughout the book, these pieces are also a part of our pedagogy of
engagement.

Ethical Decision Making

Differing from many research methods texts that only briefly address
ethical practice, the third edition of The Practice of Qualitative Research
continues to center ethics in social research. The ethics chapter has
expanded to include more examples of ethical issues that students are most
likely to confront as they go about engaging in their own research projects.
Additionally, because the world students live in is rapidly changing due to
technological advances, the ethical issues that emerge as a result of Internet
research and personal networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter are
addressed. Finally, issues regarding ethical practice are integrated
throughout the methods chapters in the book. I note examples of places
where ethical issues emerge in practice with respect to the different methods
reviewed in the book.

What’s New in the Third Edition?

The Practice of Qualitative Research, third edition, presents a truly
comprehensive review of qualitative and mixed methods research. Part I is
restructured and renamed “Taking a Qualitative Approach to Research.”
Chapter 1 presents an invitation to qualitative research. Chapter 2 focuses
on approaches to framing qualitative research. For reader ease, I have
categorized various approaches under two umbrella categories: interpretive
and critical. Perspectives are given equal weight. Under the interpretive
umbrella, I review symbolic interactionism, dramaturgy, the Chicago
school, phenomenology, and ethnomethodology. Under the critical
umbrella, I review postmodernism, post-structuralism, feminism, queer
studies, and critical race theory. Using clear tables for visual learners helps
to illustrate the differences between these approaches. This also
demonstrates a larger theme interwoven throughout the book: the
integration of theory and methods. Chapter 3 presents qualitative research
designs that provide students with an overview of the “nuts and bolts” of
qualitative research designs, and Chapter 4 offers an in-depth review of
ethical practice drawing on new technology-based examples.

Part II, “Qualitative Research Practice,” focuses on a range of specific

research methods. Retained are many of the methods chapters from the
second edition, and these have been updated to reflect the most current
scholarship in the field of qualitative research. New in Part II is Chapter 9,
“Researching Mass Media: Images and Text,” authored by leading
communications researchers Dr. Lisa Cuklanz and Dr. Heather McIntosh.

Part III, “Tying the Strands Together,” retains our focus on walking students
through the ins and outs of analyzing and interpretation of qualitative data
and provides a range of specific examples to illustrate the process of
meaning making. The text also provides a range of short exercises for
students to practice their analytical and interpretative skills. A newly
revised chapter on research writing provides tips for writing up student
research projects and contains step-by-step specific illustrations and
examples of this process.

The third edition of The Practice of Qualitative Research can be used in

research methods and qualitative research methods courses. In fact, given
the new material, this book can serve as the primary textbook in a survey of
research methods course with a smaller supplemental text on purely
quantitative methods such as survey research and quasi experiments.
Online Resources
A companion website at study.sagepub.com/hessebiber3e offers
PowerPoint slides and suggested exam questions for instructors, as well as
full-text SAGE journal articles and quizzes for students.

Sharlene Nagy Hesse-Biber

Boston College

Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

Acknowledgments
The third edition of The Practice of Qualitative Research would not be
possible without the assistance and support of many members within my
academic community.

First, I want to thank all the scholars who shared their research journeys in
the Behind the Scenes segments that appear throughout the book. I want to
express my heartfelt gratitude to the Boston College Undergraduate
Research Fellowship Committee, especially the support I have received
from Dean William Petri in my research endeavors throughout my years at
Boston College. I want to thank Boston College undergraduates Sarah Van
Schaik, Zainab Kiyam, Bailey Flynn, and Cecilia Dolan for their leadership
in keeping this book project organized and also for providing editorial
assistance. Thanks as well to my former undergraduate research assistants,
Hilary Flowers and Lauren Simao.

The Practice of Qualitative Research, third edition, would not be possible

without the vision, wisdom, and support of my research methods editor at
SAGE, Helen Salmons. Her editorial expertise and guidance were
invaluable. I want to also extend a thank-you to the SAGE copyeditor, Mark
Bast, who did a stellar job in the final production of this book. I extend a
heartfelt thank-you to SAGE project editor Jane Haenel for her excellent
editorial oversight on the book project as a whole.

I want to express my love and deepest appreciation to my family, in

particular my daughters, Julia Ariel and Sarah Alexandra, for their patience,
love, and forbearance. I also want to thank my extended family: my mother
Helene Stockert, sister Georgia Geraghty, and brother Charles Nagy.

Finally, I want to thank my wonderful Portuguese water dogs, Zoli and his
brother Max. They both remind me of the importance of play in our lives,
and they keep me connected to the things that matter to me outside of my
work life.

Best wishes,
Sharlene Nagy Hesse-Biber

Boston College

Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

SAGE Publishing acknowledges the following reviewers:

John B. Bartkowski, University of Texas at San Antonio

Kristen K. Bowen, Florida A&M University

Brian Creech, Temple University

JoAnn DiGeorgio-Lutz, Texas A&M University at Galveston

J. S. Frideres, University of Calgary

Amrita Hari, Carleton University

Aya Kimura Ida, California State University, Sacramento

Brooke Fisher Liu, University of Maryland

Karrie Ann Snyder, Northwestern University

Jeanne L. Surface, University of Nebraska Omaha

Susan L. Wortmann, Nebraska Wesleyan University

About the Authors

Sharlene Nagy Hesse-Biber, PhD,

is professor of sociology and the director of the Women’s and Gender
Studies Program at Boston College in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts.
She has published widely on the impact of sociocultural factors on
women’s body image, including her book Am I Thin Enough Yet? The
Cult of Thinness and the Commercialization of Identity (Oxford,
1996), which was selected as one of Choice magazine’s best academic
books for 1996. She published The Cult of Thinness (Oxford, 2007)
and is coeditor of Approaches to Qualitative Research: A Reader on
Theory and Practice (Oxford, 2004) and Emergent Methods in Social
Research (Sage, 2006). She is editor of the Handbook of Feminist
Research: Theory and Praxis (2nd ed.) (Sage, 2012), which was
selected as one of the Critics’ Choice Award winners by the American
Education Studies Association and was also chosen as one of Choice
magazine’s Outstanding Academic Titles for 2007. She is editor of
Feminist Research Practice: A Primer (Sage, 2014). She publishes
widely on mixed methods research, and her publications appear in
Qualitative Health Research (QHR), Qualitative Inquiry (QI), and The
Journal of Mixed Methods Research (JMMR). She was appointed an
associate editor of JMMR. She is coeditor of the Handbook of
Emergent Methods (Guilford, 2008). She is author of Mixed Methods
Research: Merging Theory with Practice (Guilford, 2010). Her most
recent coedited book is titled The Oxford Handbook of Multimethod
and Mixed Methods Research Inquiry (Oxford, 2015).
She was recently recognized by Alpha Sigma Nu, the honor society for
Jesuit higher education institutions, with a 2015 Alpha Sigma Nu Book
Award for excellence in publishing in science, for her monograph,
Waiting for Cancer to Come: Women’s Experiences with Genetic
 Testing and Medical Decision Making for Breast and Ovarian Cancer
(University of Michigan Press, 2014).
She is codeveloper of the software program HyperRESEARCH, a
computer-assisted program for analyzing qualitative and mixed
methods data, and the new transcription tool HyperTRANSCRIBE. A
fully functional free demo of these programs is available at
www.researchware.com. This website, www.researchware.com,
provides links to a free teaching edition for both programs.

Lisa M. Cuklanz
is professor and chair of the Communication Department at Boston
College, where she has also served as director of Women’s Studies.
Her research focuses on media representations of gender-based
violence. She has published three books and numerous articles in
journals within the field of communication, including Critical Studies
in Media Communication, Communication Quarterly, and Women’s
Studies in Communication.

Heather McIntosh
is an assistant professor at Minnesota State University, Mankato. Her
research explores documentary media in a converging media
environment, focusing particularly on distribution and advocacy
documentary. She earned her PhD in mass communications from The
Pennsylvania State University.
Part I Taking a Qualitative Approach to Research
1 An Invitation to Qualitative Research
Photo 1.1 Can qualitative research shed new light on eating disorders like
bulimia in a way that statistical surveys cannot?

© iStockphoto.com/RapidEye

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

Pretty, vivacious, and petite, Delia was a picture of fashionable perfection
when she first walked into my office. Her tight jeans and fringed western
shirt showed off her thin, 5-foot frame; her black cowboy boots and silver
earrings completed a presentation that said, Look at me!

The perfect picture had a serious price. Delia had come to me to talk about
her problem. She is bulimic. In secret, she regularly binges on large
amounts of food and then forces herself to vomit. It has become a powerful
habit, one that she is afraid to break because it so efficiently maintains her
thin body. For Delia, as for so many others, being thin is everything. Delia
shared with me:

I mean, how many bumper stickers have you seen that say “No Fat
Chicks”? Guys don’t like fat girls. Guys like little girls. I guess
 because it makes them feel bigger and, you know, they want somebody
who looks pretty. Pretty to me is you have to be thin and you have to
have, like, good facial features. My final affirmation of myself is how
many guys look at me when I go into a bar.

In recent years binge eating, a type of eating disorder, has garnered

considerable concern from administrators at colleges and universities across
the country. Statistics gathered through surveys show marked increases in
such behavior among college students and their pressure and concern about
the extent and severity of eating disorders on college campuses. The
surveys also introduce how college administrators can more adequately
address this issue to stem the tide of this growing social problem
(Eisenberg, Nicklett, Roeder, & Kirz, 2011; Hesse-Biber, 2007). Many
colleges often fall short of providing their students with nutritional
education and outreach programs to combat eating disorders. What makes
things more complicated is that those with an eating disorder like binge
eating often fly under the radar of potential college outreach services that
might be helpful to them. Many college-age women are also reluctant to
seek help for their eating problem because they feel they will be stigmatized
by being labeled with an eating disorder. Many also worry about what their
peers think of them and, more importantly, what might happen if their
parents find out (Geerling & Saunders, 2015; Puhl, Neumark-Sztainer,
Austin, Luedicke, & King, 2014).

What do you think you might do to tackle this issue on your campus? At
this point I invite you to spend 5–10 minutes jotting down a list of questions
you think are important to investigate in order to better understand the
phenomenon of binge eating on your college campus.

What Is Qualitative Research?

The qualitative approach to research provides a unique grounding position
from which to conduct research that fosters particular ways of asking
questions and provides a point of view onto the social world whose goal is
to obtain understanding of a social issue or problem that privileges
subjective and multiple understandings. As noted in the opening discussion
of binge eating in college, the questions asked in this type of research
usually begin with words like how, why, or what. Look at the list of
questions you generated—what words do they begin with? As I asked you
to think about understanding this topic, you likely framed your questions
from a qualitative perspective. Qualitative researchers are after meaning.
The social meaning people attribute to their experiences, circumstances, and
situations, as well as the meanings people embed into texts, images, and
other objects are the focus of qualitative research. Therefore, at the heart of
it, qualitative researchers extract the co-created meanings they gather from
their participants’ data in order to get at multiple subjective accounts. The
focus of research is generally words, texts, and images as opposed to the
gathering of statistical data (numbers) whose goal is the testing out of
hypotheses using a variable language, with the goal of generalizing and
confirming their research hypotheses. However, this does not mean that
qualitative researchers do not use numbers or that quantitative researchers
do not use words.

Numbers can be used by a qualitative researcher as a way to summarize

some of the major qualitative themes generated from participants’ in-depth
interviews. So, for example, when Delia talks about her eating disorder she
often uses words that focus on weight and appearance. If we look at the
excerpt from her interview at the beginning of this chapter, we notice she
uses the word thin and the word fat several times. She also mentions
appearance-related words such as pretty and good facial features. We might
want to obtain a frequency count of the number of times Delia mentions
words related to weight and appearance in order to get a quantitative
measure of just how focused her narrative is on weight and appearance
issues across her entire interview. Doing this type of frequency count might
serve as an important quantitative indicator of just how focused Delia is on
these two issues in her entire interview. We might then want to compare
Delia’s word counts on these two issues with others in the study, in order to
get a sense of how often these weight- and appearance-related words appear
across the interviews collected for the entire study. We then might want to
compare and contrast participants whose frequency count is high or low
with regard to weight, appearance issues, and so on.
A quantitatively driven researcher, on the other hand, would usually begin
with a why question but quickly reframe this into a testable hypothesis that
posits a cause-effect relationship using a variable language, as in the
following hypothesis: “The higher the self-esteem among college women
the lower the rates of binge-eating disorders.” Self-esteem and rates of
binge-eating disorders would be treated as variables that take on a set of
numerical values. The researcher would most likely test out this hypothesis
on a large-scale data set selecting among a wide spectrum of college-age
women and seeking to find whether the relationship between self-esteem
and binge eating, both treated as variables and expressed in numerical
terms, is statistically significant even after controlling for other likely causal
factors in the literature that are also said to be related to college-age
women’s binge-eating behaviors. This type of study aims to confirm a given
hypothesis, unlike a qualitative approach, whose goal is to explore and
discover subjective meaning. This does not mean, however, that qualitative
researchers do not also develop some ideas they also test out on their
qualitative data. We might, for example, find that in our study of college
students with eating disorders, we have a group of women, whom we label
Group A, who appear more obsessed with issues of weight and appearance
than a second group, Group B. Group B students do not talk about these
issues very much. We might then begin to speculate about what makes these
two groups so different by looking at what other factors we think might
contribute to weight and appearance obsession, which we garnered from
studying the research literature on this topic, that might also serve to
differentiate these two groups we found in our data. So, for example, some
of the literature on eating disorders looks at the impact of peer group
pressure on weight and appearance (Hesse-Biber, 2007), so we might see if
there are any differences we can discern in the way in which Group A
women and Group B women talk about their peers. You can see we are
beginning to test out in a very informal way some of our hunches about
what might be going on in our qualitative data.

It’s important to keep in mind that these two approaches also share common
elements. We might think of these qualitative and quantitative approaches
as lying along a continuum rather than two distinct approaches. Also keep
in mind that each of these approaches is valuable to research inquiry. Which
approach you select will depend on your overall research goals and the
specific questions derived from your overall methodology. And, as shown
in the mixed methods chapter to come, sometimes both of these approaches
are used in the same study, especially when dealing with complex
multilayered problems with the goal of getting a more complex
understanding of a given issue.

Qualitative research is an exciting interdisciplinary landscape composed of

diverse perspectives and practices for generating knowledge. Researchers
across departments in the social and behavioral sciences use qualitative
methods.

Dimensions of Qualitative Research

There are many important aspects of research aside from methods, although
college-level courses are often misleadingly called “research methods”
instead of “research practice.” A major dimension of research that is often
subjugated is the set of assumptions researchers bring with them that guides
the research process. Researchers’ views stem from the philosophical
assumptions they hold about the social world in general. We can think of a
paradigm as comprising a researcher’s view of social reality in general,
consisting of a range of critical philosophical components we term ontology
and epistemology. A researcher’s methodology is derived from his or her
specific paradigmatic stance toward the social reality in terms of what a
researcher assumes we know about the social world, the types of questions
that can be asked, and how the research process itself should proceed. You
can think of this philosophical layer as providing a point of view onto the
social world that in turn serves to frame how the research process should
proceed, from the type of research questions addressed to the methods and
types of analysis and interpretation of one’s data. Multiple philosophical
points of view are explored in this chapter to give you an idea of just how
powerful and important it is to be cognizant as a researcher regarding the
assumptions contained in any given research endeavor and how different
philosophical assumptions can result in different ways of understanding and
constructing knowledge about the social world.

Ontology
An ontology is a philosophical belief system about the nature of social
reality—what can be known and how. For example, is the social world
patterned and predictable, or is the social world continually being
constructed through human interactions and rituals? These assumptions
represent two very different ontological perspectives. A researcher’s
ontological assumptions impact topic selection, the formulation of research
questions, and strategies for conducting the research.

There are three major ontological positions in qualitative research:

positivism, interpretive, and critical. Positivism posits that the social world
is patterned and causal relationships can be discovered and tested via
reliable strategies. The interpretive position assumes the social world is
constantly being constructed through group interactions, and thus social
reality can be understood via the perspectives of social actors enmeshed in
meaning-making activities. Critical perspectives also view social reality as
an ongoing construction but go further to suggest that discourses created in
shifting fields of social power shape social reality and our study of it. These
ontological approaches are reviewed in-depth in Chapter 2.

Epistemology
An epistemology is a philosophical belief system about who can be a
knowledge builder (Guba & Lincoln, 1998; Harding, 1987; Hesse-Biber &
Leavy, 2004). An epistemology includes how the relationship between the
researcher and research participants is understood. Although qualitative
research is characterized in part by numerous epistemological stances we
can again turn to the same three major umbrella categories: positivist,
interpretive, and critical. A positivist perspective privileges the researcher
as the authority in the research process due to his or her objective, value-
neutral stance and his or her use of standardized measurement instruments.
This creates a clear delineation between the roles of the researcher and
research participants. An interpretive perspective views the researcher and
research participants as co-creators in the knowledge-building process and
emphasizes the perspective of the participants. A critical approach pays
particular attention to how power is infused in the knowledge-building
process. I discuss these umbrella categories in more detail in Chapter 2.
Another random document with
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 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN