Observation

Data was also gathered through observation, by ‘being there’, taking part in different activities, ‘hanging out’ and conversing (as compared with interviewing), while consciously observing and recording what was seen and heard (Dewalt and Dewalt, 2001: 4). I did not conduct systematic observation of certain events; rather, data was gathered while ‘hanging out’ – visiting neighbours, having tea in the tea stalls, going to temple, attending weddings, attending the biju festival (new year festival), etc. Being there allowed me to gather insights or data which often cannot be uncovered by conversations or interviews. For instance, in Banglachari, while I was talking to a

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Bengali women (latecomer and landless), suddenly there were sounds of chopping trees and she informed me that it was the new owner of the land that her family was occupying. She confronted the man who was clearing the plants on her yard, asking him to stop. While interviewing was useful, ‘being there’ in the villages enabled me to observe some incidents that opened up scope for further conversations and revealed conflicts (particularly those within community). For instance, in Chakmachari, an incident uncovered the contestation over inheritance among Chakmas. One evening, while we were chatting after having dinner, my hostess Dina-di (Pran-da’s wife), received a call from her brother. She was informed that her niece’s wedding had been arranged. Dina-di was delighted. After finishing the conversation with his brother and giving me the news, one of the first comments she made was that if her brother gave part of his land to her niece (his daughter), she would ask her brother to give her (Dina-di) a share of their father’s land.

With regard to land conflict negotiation and contestation, I intended to observe particular events such as social meetings or bichar, where disputes are negotiated. In Chakmachari, all kinds of negotiation meetings organised for conflict resolution (at the headman court, JSS court, UPDF court and the meetings involving ‘respected people’25 _{in the village) are referred as bichar (Chapter}

5). Bengalis use the terms- bichar and salish-bichar to refer to the negotiation meetings organised to settle disputes within and between communities. Salish-bichar does not differ from bichar. The disputes that were taken to army camp were also referred as bichar by both Chakmas and Bengali settlers. I did not have the opportunity to observe any bichar. Observation carried out at institutions involved land mutation, land transaction process and ‘hearing’ at the Land Office at the sub-district level, courtroom observation of land dispute cases. Amol Dewan (gatekeeper) filed a land dispute case in court, I followed up his lawsuit in the court and observed the court hearings (see Chapter 9).

3.6 Reflexivity

Interpretation by anthropologists entails introspection, and researchers recording and analysing data in terms of their own categories, attitudes and orientation (Peacock, 1986: 85). The subjectivity of the researcher shapes every step in the research design, from research question to data collection, analysis and interpretation. In this section, I attempt to do I-witnessing by reflecting on me influencing the knowledge-generating process.

Englund and Leach (2000) expressed concern that anthropologists using particular broad theoretical orientations and associated conceptual vocabulary might also obstruct anthropological knowledge grounded in ethnographic research. In understanding land politics in

25 _{‘Respected people’ include -Headman, the karbari, the elderly and educated people in the village, kin members of}

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CHT, I had predefined categories and concepts such as property, identity and authority. My conceptual vocabularies and enquiries were obviously not directly applicable to the gathering of data, and it was difficult to translate the concepts into good questions. There was no synonym for ‘property’ in the Chakma language, although the Western concept of landed property and statutory norms have been used since the British colonial time. Besides, I understood the social and legal norms of owning property as binaries, but I found that when people made land claims, many did not make such neat distinctions. Some Chakma people (mostly the poor and labourer), when asked how or why a piece of land belonged to them, did not categorise answers by saying – ‘I have paper’ or ‘I have dakhal’ (referring to social norms of property) or ‘everybody knows it is mine’. I found for many, still, the land belonged to them because they owned it/cultivated it or lived on it. My question ‘why’ or ‘how’ seemed in certain contexts to imply that they needed to claim legitimacy of their land claims based on certain norms, authority or paper. In some circumstances, asking whether they had land documents seemed like imposing the legal concept of owning property and as if I was making (or taken as making) a judgement about the legitimacy of their land claims. Later, by conducting a few interviews and through conversation, I developed a series of questions to investigate how people own land. I learnt to avoid predefined concepts while collecting data, instead allowing their construction within the conversation (Bohnnan, 1966 cited in Lund, 2014). For instance, different meanings of dakhal and ownership by dakhal were developed through analysing people’s claim making in cases of disputes and dispute processes. In the Bengali village, it was less difficult to ask questions regarding property and land, since Bengalis understand property in terms of having legal land titles granted by the state. Among them there was comparatively more knowledge and more people had experienced the legal land ownership system; they helped me to understand the land transaction processes, allotment process, court procedures, how lands are measured and about the land-index/register books at the surveyor’s office.

I found that in Chakmachari, people tended to present a normative image of society (Goffman, 1969), which made it difficult to explore conflicts and power relations within the community. Some were conscious of their image to an outsider and, more importantly, to a Bengali. For instance, initially nobody told me about the conflicts between neighbours or kin. In matters of religion, I needed to be persistent to learn about the past rituals and religious practices i.e. the time before, as mentioned by Chakma respondent-‘Bana Bhante introduced a purified version of Buddhist beliefs and practices’ (see Chapter 7). I realized that as many people consider some beliefs and practices of the past to be wrong, they did not want me to know about them. I also found to an outsider Headman’s role in land dispute settlement is over emphasised or it is embellished in people’s perception to some degree. On the other hand, very few mentioned the role of political parties in settling disputes and at a later stage of fieldwork.

In land disputes between hill people and Bengali settlers, I was biased towards the hill people’s right to the land over the Bengali settlers’ claims over land granted by the state. One of the

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motivations for researching land conflict in CHT was my view that- the hill people are marginalised because their identity and land rights are not recognised by the state. In Chakmachari, I was open about my position against the state’s policy of not-recognising the separate identities of indigenous people in Bangladesh, the injustice in not recognising hill people’s land rights and state acquisition of hill people’s land. In contrast, I was less sympathetic to the Bengali settlers’ struggle over land rights. Besides, some Bengali settlers, particularly leaders, employed state actors’ discourse emphasizing Bengali control and domination over territory and land in CHT, which reinforced my bias towards hill people in the political and land conflict (see Chapter 7). It took time for me to understand the uncertainties and oppression the majority of Bengali settlers faced, and to see that settlers positioned themselves with power in claim-making, but most were dominated and subordinated by their political leaders, the state policies and actors.

3.6.1 Positionality

In fieldwork observations take place from both sides. Therefore, the researcher’s position, his relationship with the participants and how the researcher is perceived in the field, influence the data he or she collects (Peacock, 2001). Moreover, the perceiver is included in the process of knowledge generation. In this section I reflect on how I positioned myself, how I was positioned by others in the field and how it mattered in data collection.

Student – mastori

In all field sites, I introduced myself primarily as a student doing research to attain a higher degree, i.e. Ph.D and stated that I was visiting their villages to learn about my research topic by talking to them. I stated from the start that the outcome of my research would be passing my exam (Ph.D) and publishing papers or a book where I would present findings and narratives (what they tell me) that I learnt from the research.

Introducing myself as a student researcher was important, not only to manage people’s expectations, but also to communicate that I was not siding with any local or national political parties or government. However, my identity as a university teacher was equally important, or taken as my primary identity. My host family said the only reason they decided to host me was because I was a teacher. After a few days in Chakmachari, I found out that most people called me ‘mastori’, which means master, i.e. teacher. As a teacher, I was respected and valued. I accepted the identity and taught two of the neighbourhood children regularly while I was there. As a teacher of Dhaka University, in Chakmachari I was associated as belonging to the elite. I was invited to different houses where members were teachers or worked in offices. My position and identity distanced me from other people in the village who were poor, farmers, labourers or without ‘jobs’. It took me some time to understand this, and eventually I developed close relationships with a few landless labour households. Most people, particularly the elite or middle

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class, did not speak about land conflicts within the community causing dispossession; it was the poor or landless who spoke about these processes, giving me insights about property and authority dynamics within the community.

Bengali Muslim

As a Bengali and Muslim, I crossed the boundaries in terms of food practices. The most important factor that helped me to be integrated, according to my host families, was the fact that I ‘ate everything’ (‘bekkin khai’). Hill people’s food is a major element of distinction and segregation for the Bengalis. They are often perceived as junglee or uncivilised by Bengalis because ‘they eat everything’ (see Chapter 7). Interestingly, I was accepted in my host families and in Chakma community because I ate everything. Although the communities (Bengalis and Chakmas) live close, I found there was limited interaction between them in the private domains. While I enjoyed living in different cultures with the anthropologist’s usual ‘...[f]ascinations of field work, which have held us so long in thrall’ (Geertz, 1988:24), I found that for my host families and others in the village it was also interesting to live with me, enjoy diversity and having different cultural experiences (for instance, having me cooking Bengali meals or helping them to wear sarees).

During the war, the village was regularly raided by armies in search of Shanti Bahinis. As a Bengali, listening to accounts of torture and violence carried out by the army who were Bengalis, made me feel guilty. Apart from one case where a person showed a hint of resentment in a conversation, I never felt cornered for being a Bengali while interacting with Chakmas. In the Chakma community, I was not an insider. A leader of JSS Reformist group told me ‘You belong to a big race/boro jati (dominating ethnic group), you would not ever understand our pain and suffering’. However, I was an outsider who was respectful to the community and religion. This mattered to many people (pointed out by Bhante) that being a Bengali, I was staying among the Chakmas, which meant I felt safe living with them. This mattered as they have heard that not only the government officers’ families, but even the army officers’ families apparently cry when they get posted to CHT, and Officers do not want to come to the hills, fearing conflict and thinking hill people are uncivilised/savages.

One important aspect of perceived identity of Bengalis in CHT is their religion. In Chakmachari, at the very beginning, a woman asked me how it was to stay in a Chakma house, being a Muslim. As they were strong believers, I did not want to say I was a non-believer. I said that I was not a Muslim or a Hindu. Interestingly, this answer was accepted. Surprisingly for me, I found a few people in the village repeating my statement, with approval, when I went to talk to them in their houses in other parts of the village. Since Bengalis are often seen primarily as Muslims, saying that I was not a Muslim distanced me from the way Bengalis are perceived. People in the Bengali village did not ask about my religion, they knew I am a Muslim as my name is a Muslim name.

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Both identities, Bengali and teacher at the University of Dhaka, affected my entry, rapport- building and data collection in both villages. In Banglachari, most respondents felt that I would understand their views/standpoint. Some Bengalis stated a ‘bond of nationality/ethnicity’ (i.e. ‘jati r taan’) as the reason for accepting me and agreeing to be interviewed. Hill people were referred to by Bengalis as ‘they’ or ‘them’, and I belonged to the Bengalis’ ‘we’ or ‘us’ group. On the other hand, my identity as a teacher meant that I fell into the group of the ‘sympathisers of hill people’. Some Bengali settlers (those more politically active) viewed ‘university teachers’ or civil society in Dhaka as supporters of the hill people. For that reason, they felt it was important to share their views and experiences since those in Dhaka ‘never hear the Bengali side of the stories’. As they helped me due to the bond of ethnicity, some expected the same from me. One elderly leader said ‘I do not know what benefit we are going to get from your work. I believe you will do something good for us, you are Bengali and we share the “bond of ethnicity”’.

Being Chittagonian

My paternal home district is Fatikchari, which is the neighbouring district of Khagrachhari. Regional identity is important in Bangladesh. My regional identity was always accepted with warmth by the hill people: they said ‘you are from here!’ or ‘you live close by!’. This also put me in a ‘good Bengali’ category – those with whom hill people have had trade relations for a long time. A practical advantage of being a Chittagonian (half) is that I am familiar with the Chittagonian dialect. Chakma is similar to Chittagonian and this helped me to understand some parts of conversations, which improved with time.

Being woman and single

I was perceived as a female student and teacher, empowered by education and who could transcend some gender boundaries. This I did to some extent by talking about land conflicts, authority and property, which mainly involved men. In both the Chakma and Bengali communities very few women owned land. Moreover, land transaction, mutation, application for grants, taking credits, negotiations, confrontations and going to the authorities are mostly male activities. Sometimes being female helped in asking naive questions about property, laws and institutions.

While working and studying at universities provided me with an empowered position, being female and single placed me in a category which was seen as vulnerable and incomplete as an adult. In the villages I did not mind people asking me why I was single, since I was in their private domain. At the institutional level some institutional actors also asked the same question, which was annoying and felt like harassment.

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Positioning with power

In both villages, I found that some people took me as someone who could help their children to gain admission to the university. Another misunderstanding or expectation was that I could help people in finding jobs. I was seen as someone with influence at different institutions because of my educational and occupational background. I had to explain that I had no network or political connections to help anyone in gaining admission or jobs. However, I said I could help with preparation for admission test or finding information/writing job applications. To emphasise my identity as a student and a researcher, I often mentioned risk assessment guidelines and ethical concerns to which I needed to adhere.

The politics of fieldwork as a set of personal relations, involves a process that often occurs within a context of domination and subjection, where the anthropologist is identified with the dominator (Bell et al., 1993: 47). In both villages, being there with notebooks, being urban, educated and with an affiliation to universities made me appear important; but I was also in a powerless position, as I was only able to do my work and learn if they allowed me to. I was a mix of both – a high-status person who was also ‘unimportant’. A comment made by the Judge of the district court summarised my position well. One of the bench clerks, while helping me to understand court procedures (and probably finding me naive regarding such matters) stated ‘Sir [Judge] told us to help you. We see you every day waiting and sitting around in the courtyard, and we think that you are unimportant/nobody. Sir told us that you are a person with high social status and you are ‘someone’ in your university’.