INTRODUCTION
During my graduate training in sociology at Columbia University, I learnt a great deal about the
pros and cons of data gathering methods. While I do not advocate that one method is more
“exact” than another, I do believe that each has its own merits for asking different questions and
producing different answers, thereby refining the topic understudied. The choice has more to do
with the researcher’s problematic and the social and political context in which the research is
conducted. Therefore in this chapter, it is my intention to provide a detailed discussion of the
research design and the methodology to allow readers to assess, on their own, the value of the
method at hand. In this concext, I establish two points: 1/ it describes in details the qualitative
methodology used to conduct the research, the design of the research and the data collection; 2/ it
gives a critical analysis of some of the taken for granted methodological tools researchers use in
conducting research, particularly when the latter focuses on a group that comes from a traditional
society. After describing the methods at hand, I move on to a discussion on some of the lessons I
learned from fieldwork, by critically assessing the preconceived methodological tools used in
social science research in general, particularly when the research focuses on non Western
subjects. The main point I raise in the last section is that researchers tend to take for granted the
from a non Western culture, these tools ought to be questioned and adapted in a way that they
account for the cultural variations and concepts of the particular group under-studied.
A).THE BIRTH OF THE RESEARCH PROJECT
I first went to Bangladesh in 1999 as a one-year intern to work in the world’s largest local non-
governmental organization (NGO) called BRAC (Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee)
in Dhaka. My task consisted of putting together a research design that targeted rural women who
were in micro-credit loans, which at the time was the motto of the NGO sector. In addition, I had
to spend five months in the field to collect data on these women’s experiences with micro credits
in relation to their empowerment. Then a Bachelor student in Anthropology, I couldn’t wait to
jump into fieldwork to apply Clifford Geertz’ principles of “thick descriptions” in studying
Bangladeshi culture.
After several months spent in various villages in the Northeast region of Bangladesh, I had
gathered enough data to observe that micro-credit programs were a powerful ‘safety net’ tool for
the lives of rural families. I had also become acquainted with micro finance benefits through
conferences I had attended where Nobel Price Bangladeshi economist Mohammad Yunus, the
original founder of the micro-credit system at Grameen Bank (another local Bangladeshi NGO)
had been invited to explain the benefits of micro-credit.
However, unlike the positive results that micro-credits theoretically had on the lives of the poor,
my results showed no significant impact on women empowerment for those who had access to it.
Indeed, interviewed women explained that gains were only temporary and that overall, it hadn’t
changed their lifestyle. Also intriguing was the fact that during a focus group discussion I was
which is another common livelihood strategy. Elaborating on their answers, they explained that
generally, poor households opt for migration over micro credits because the weekly loan
repayment rules are far more constraining than earning money on a construction site in Dubai.
But since this option is only open to men, women saw no other alternative than to get loans from
a micro credit program. I found their answers particularly interesting as it surely coincided with
the hundreds and hundreds of Bangladeshi men I had come across at a Dubai or Qatar airport,
while connecting flights on my way to various trips I did during my stay in Bangladesh. They
were fairly young men, in their 20’s and early 30’s who generally sat together on the floor, near
their gate, while waiting to board the plane. Some were sleeping on the floor, with blankets
covering their feet. Others were sharing food directly out of earthen pots, which I guessed had
been prepared beforehand. On different occasions, I had exchanged conversations with a few of
them and had learnt that they were on their way to a Middle Eastern (usually Qatar, Dubai or
Abu Dabi) country as short or long term migrant contract-workers. This explanation was later
attested by a BMET67 report I had across in a local English paper, which had calculated that from
1976 to January 2002, the total number of Bangladeshis working abroad as short-term migrants
reached more than three million, a yearly average flow (1991-2002) of about 226,000.
Four years after my Bangladesh experience, I completed my Bachelors’ in anthropology and then
enrolled in a PhD program in sociology in New York City. By then, my interest in Bangladesh
and its migration had faded into the stressful and intimidating experience of a novice graduate
student. But it didn’t take too long for the country to reappear in my life when several semesters
later, a professor contacted me to participate in a project that involved doing participant-
67 BMET, the Bureau of Manpower, Employment and Training is the executing agency of the Ministry of Expatriate
observation on subway users’ interactions of the 7 train, going from 42-Time Square to Flushing
Meadow, in Queens. Not being familiar with the sociology of symbolic interactionism and
particularly lacking Goffman’s skills in detailed observation, I was not sure what exactly my
field notes had to capture. Several weeks in the field were enough for me to realize that my low
patience threshold in observing people’s interactions for hours, on a crowded subway while
having to take on every single blink and wink was going to be a challenging experience. Not to
mention the intense feeling of awkwardness I had to bear every time I randomly approached
someone to “interview” and which I’m sure, most ethnographers have experienced in their career
when conducting fieldwork.
It was not until I occasionally got off the subway to buy snacks at local kiosks that my fieldwork
took a different direction. Most interactions I found to be most gratifying (as compared to those
on the subway) were those I was having with kiosk vendors who, for the majority, came from
Bangladesh. Soon thereafter, the notes I had collected turned from subway users’ interactions to
lively informal conversations I had with Bangladeshi vendors on their experiences as immigrants
in New York. What I found particularly gratifying was the ease with which they spoke about
why they had come here and how they had to support their families back home. The few words
of Bengali I spoke and my experience in Bangladesh, working at BRAC were non-negligible
assets in gaining their confidence. Several vendors had already invited me to their home to meet
their extended family and share mishti [Bangladeshi pastries] with them.
On one winter afternoon, as I was transferring subway lines at 42nd Time Square after I had spent
located at the top level of the 1 train entrance. The vendor who, from his accent, I assumed to be
Bangladeshi was happily surprised to hear me say: Kemon achen? [how are you]. After telling
him about my personal connection with Bangladesh and my interests in learning more about the
Bangladeshi community in New York, he suggested that I look into a local Bengali newspaper to
get some information on various cultural events in the community. Since the paper wasn’t
available in his Manhattan kiosk, he said he would bring me a copy from Queens the following
day and asked that I come back between 6 am and 1 pm to get it. The next morning, I did as he
requested and as promised, he handed me the paper. On my way home, riding the 1-train, I was
eagerly leafing through it when the following advertisement caught my attention: “The
Narayanganj68 District Association of North America (NDANA) Inc. cordially invites you to join the Reception Ceremony and Dinner party on the occasion of the arrival of Business Associate of Bangladesh Knitwear Manufacturers and Exporters Association (BKMEA).” At the bottom right
of the ad was a phone number. I waited to get home and finally made the call. A man answered
with a Bengali accent. Though I hadn’t yet decided on what study I was planning to do or what
script I was going to say, I explained that I was a PhD student doing research on the experiences
of Bangladeshi immigrants in New York and that I was interested in meeting some Bangladeshi
people who would be willing to talk with me.
“You are a PhD student from Columbia University and you’re interested in Bangladeshi
people?,” the man repeated. “But why Bangladeshis?,” he asked with bewilderment.
68 Narayanganj is a district in central Bangladesh, part of the Dhaka Division. The main city is also named
I hadn’t really thought of an answer, even less of such a question. I instantly called on my past
experience in Bangladesh and mumbled something like, “I lived in Bangladesh for one year and I
really enjoyed the people and the culture. And now that I live in New York, I meet a lot of them
and would love to hear more about their stories.”
“Well, Bangladeshi people are everywhere!,” he quipped. “It is my pleasure to invite you and if
you want to talk to everybody, you will introduce yourself to everyone,” he said. “We have a microphone and the local TV will be there. That way, you can have everyone in the community who listens to you!”
Soon after, I decided to switch the subway research to one based on Bangladeshis and their
migration experiences in New York. Finally, I had a research topic but any graduate student
knows that it only meant the beginning of a long tenuous process… After all, migration
experiences as a topic remained rather vague and I had yet to develop a research question and a
theoretical framework to guide my field research.
On the Fall of 2007, my dissertation research was about to begin.