Field Methods

In probing the paradoxes implicit in interpreting "the other," Marcus and Fischer (1986) conclude that fieldwork is essentially dialogic, a fact that they argue should be acknowledged by incorporating the voices of the studied not as informants but as collaborators. Such an approach, they claim, can open doors to indigenous "epistemologies, rhetorics, aesthetic criteria, and sensibilities" (1986:48).

This project followed Marcus and Fischer's dictum in important ways. From the day I arrived in Buguias with Karen Wigen, my wife and fellow geographer, research was not only facilitated but actually guided by a local couple, Lorenzo and Bonificia Payaket. The Payakets took keen if often amused interest in all of our questions, repeatedly suggesting new avenues of inquiry. In particular, although we entered the field with no intention of studying religion, they insisted on introducing us to indigenous priests. Their message was simple: to understand Buguias you must understand religion. Eventually we deferred.

After a few weeks in Buguias, a basic routine was established. Each evening, two or more of us would meet to determine the next day's explorations, the Payakets suggesting local experts with whom we could consult on a given topic. The following morning, we would walk to where the chosen individuals lived and interview them, often through the agency of field guides. In the early months our inquiry was limited to the village of Buguias Central. Gradually we began to venture farther afield, eventually making foot and bus journeys of several days to visit each settlement prominent in Buguias's history.

After returning home we would again confer with the Payakets, who would judge the reliability of our findings, suggest individu-

als who could either corroborate or give conflicting accounts, critique our field maps, and add observations of their own. These evening discussions can only be described as seminars. The sessions grew particularly lively when the Payakets brought with them individuals expert in the subjects at hand. But all conversations eventually wandered freely, leading in many unexpected directions. Nor did we limit ourselves to empirical findings; our evolving interpretations also formed a conversational mainstay.

Through these alternating interviews and evening discussions we gradually elicited the outline of Buguias's history presented here. Although I have also consulted the standard sources of historical scholarship (colonial documents, travelers' accounts and diaries, early scholarly reports, and newspaper articles), these rarely elucidate the most important local developments. Since Buguias was and is a predominantly oral culture, living memory is the primary source for reconstructing the community's past. In seeking standards of reliability, I follow Rosaldo's (1980) lead; where numerous individuals reiterate the same story, without contradictions, I have accepted it as most likely true. Where consensus is not obtainable, conflicting versions are retained with no attempt to choose among them.

Any interpretation is by nature partial, as much allegory as analysis. As such, the story told here remains to the last only one among several possible "true fictions" (Clifford 1986) that could have been wrought from the ethnographic materials pertaining to Buguias. If my time in Buguias proved conceptually liberating, it did not, however, divest me of all prior ideological baggage. Moreover, the individuals with whom I worked have undoubtedly inscribed on the text their own prejudices and programs as well, seeking to project their community in a specific light. The author bears final responsibility for any errors compounded through the numerous tissues of interpretation that constitute the work.