The Art of Storytelling in Qualitative Research: Who gets to share the stories?

Telling stories to reveal elements and images of an event is one of the most powerful tools for interactive engagement anywhere. A good story is persuasive and will often elicit a reaction from the reader. Development research embraces the art of storytelling as a way of expressing views in social science and humanities. Originally, this was not the case because the development space was dominated by thoughts on development economics that engaged statistical tools and quantitative methods to show trends. If we are being honest, big organizations love numbers, there is a certain level of predictability to it. But the importance of talking about the people and their experiences often gets lost in the process. Researchers have quickly realized the importance of representing and understanding socio-cultural impacts on the wellbeing of the society, that is why storytelling is crucial.

Various authors have embraced storytelling as a form of inciting revolution on any form of injustice, particularly against women. Stories about gender inequality, abuses women suffer, sexual discrimination and many more have come to light because someone was willing to tell the story. Same also, qualitative researchers collect information on perceptions, attitudes, values, and cultures affecting women. These actions have led to transformative events that have led to an awakening for women’s rights to be defended in different ways. But this is not without its own issues. I have come to realize that whoever has the power to tell stories controls the narrative, which forms the basis of how stories can be shared as well as understood. That being the case, you can imagine how critical it is for researchers to emulate the virtues of integrity, transparency, and honesty, to have an accurate depiction of the social issue.

I came to this awareness in Uganda while collecting data for my Ph.D. Dissertation. The summary of my research centers on exploring the role of farmer cooperatives in facilitating inclusive agricultural development in Uganda, using the case of the coffee industry. Women occupy the highest labor force in the coffee industry in Uganda, yet they are the most constrained in terms of access to land, extension services, finance and agricultural inputs that limit their productivity. This is often due to patrilineal structures that are advantageous to men in acquiring land. Also, land ownership forms the basis for investments in extension service, inputs, and access to loans. Currently, the government of Uganda is working towards boosting coffee production to 20 million bags by 2030, so my objective is to investigate if the investments being pumped into the coffee industry are accessible to women and if farmer cooperatives serve as a sustainable mechanism to facilitate it.

I felt a huge burden to represent the stories of these men and women accurately because they trusted me enough to talk to me. I constantly had to be conscious of my own bias and be objective when listening to them. I asked myself a lot of questions to capture the individualism of each group rather than generalize. The issue of reframing and telling stories accurately in bringing awareness to gender issues is important. We all have biases, researcher or not, and biases and prejudices often hinder people from viewing issues objectively. Also, our participants have a voice, no matter how low their voices may seem, but getting to echo their voices through research is a huge responsibility we should carry with utmost respect and integrity. Because story tellers control the narrative, there is a risk of sharing only a single story. As Chimamanda Ngozie Adiche, a Nigerian quintessential writer, says, “the danger of a single story, the one perspective, is that it can lead us to default assumptions, conclusions and decisions that may be incomplete, and may lead to misunderstanding”

Oluwabukola Makinde

Fellow ‘22

Reference

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2019). The Danger of a Single Story https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg

When Multiple Places Become Home

On my first night back in Uganda, I wrote in my journal, “You don’t know how much you don’t know until you are standing face-to-face with a world you don’t know.” This statement came after a series of small challenges that left me feeling helpless to understand the directions, processes, and norms that I knew would be the new routine for my stay in Uganda. I remember thinking to myself, “this could not be further from life at home” and “it’s going to take a lot of adjusting to survive these next three months.”

I have traveled to many places that I casually referred to as “home” in conversation. In those cases, a mentioning of home indicated the discovery of things that reminded me of home in a new place. Familiar foods, a similar pace of life, traveling with friends, or concepts that were easily contextualized all made a temporary visit to a new place feel like home. There is a difference between a place that resembles home and a place that is home. Deep down, I know those places are not home.

When I think about the places that actually are home, two locations come to mind–my hometown and my college town. The events that took place in these locations are what make them an actual home. They are the places I grew up, where I gained my independence, learned to take care of myself, and started to stand on my own two feet. They are the residence of the people I love, where my family and dearest friends are guaranteed to be found. They witnessed my biggest milestones, settings where my fondest memories, biggest challenges, and greatest feats all took place. They are the locations I return to time and time again, either physically or in heart, because I know something is waiting there for me.

After two months living in-country, I would add Uganda to the list as the third place I call home. This place is comprised of more than just reflections of my other homes; in fact, in many ways life in Uganda still could not be further from life in my other homes. However, the challenges that caught me off guard on night one have grown into the routine activities that make Uganda home at day 57, and the events that made other places home have happened here as well.

This is how Uganda became home:

A place I grew up – Growing up is not limited just to our youth, but it is a process of constant learning that eventually yields wisdom and independence. Living in a foreign country requires you to start all over in the process of gaining knowledge. The completion of tasks that were once fundamental–like buying food, acquiring transportation, or locational orientation–suddenly become advanced undertakings. Then you must tackle the more complex tasks of understanding historical contexts, cultural norms, and societal expectations. When very little resembles what you are used to, you have to grow up all over again.

The residence of the people I love – In this process of “growing up” in Uganda, there are a few key people that have been present as constant guides. They are the place I turn with all my questions (and they can confirm, there are A LOT of questions); they build my courage when a task feels bigger than me; they are the gentle voice of correction and the source of all my laugher—they are my confidants, my support system, and my friends.

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The witness of my biggest milestones – There is no doubt that Uganda now holds some of my fondest memories­–car conversations, sliding through Sipi, training teachers, and seeing farmers empowered will forever hold a special place in my heart–but Uganda also holds the story of victory over some of my greatest challenges (we’ll save that conversation for a later post).

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These are the things that make a place home–three places I treasure for the time, people, and growth they offered. Three locations I will return to time and time again, either physically or in heart, because I know something is waiting there for me.

A Strong Vision: Empowering Agricultural Educators

Every year, Field of Hope brings together agriculture teachers from all over Uganda to train them on how best to teach agriculture to students, using FOH curriculum and materials. I have never been to any of such trainings, and I was particularly happy to see and be part of this vision of empowerment. It is no surprise that agriculture is the backbone of the Ugandan economy. It plays a critical role in the economy of Uganda, and it is an important driving factor for economic growth, poverty reduction and food security. Unfortunately, pursuing agriculture is not a lifetime career for most young Ugandans, and varying perceptions of how non-lucrative the sector is, has impacted their interests in agriculture. It is to this view that Field of Hope is dedicated to agricultural development and education among youths and agricultural educators.

This year’s Southern teacher training in Kampala commenced with a bang – particularly because it rained so heavily on the first day, but that did not stop the participants from coming. Our team was so inspired when we saw teachers braving the heavy rain to come to our meeting room, and we knew that we were in for a time of impact.

The training spanned for over three days with facilitators imparting new classroom techniques to increase the interest of teachers as well as students in experiential learning. Some things particularly noteworthy from the training were the classroom management strategies that were taught. One of the management strategies involved engaging positive reinforcements to not only encourage students to participate in class but increase their confidence and self-esteem. In one of the group discussions, some of the teachers pointed out that they understood that their roles as teachers transcended teaching agriculture as a subject, but also, that they had been given an incredible opportunity to invest in the lives of the students which will in turn have a ripple effect on the society.

The teacher training was also a time to rekindle old friendships and foster new ones. The interactive group sessions encouraged teachers to share individual knowledge about urban gardening and agricultural best practices that were successful in their schools. It felt like a community of changed and empowered individuals who were passionate about improving themselves, the experiences of their students, their communities, and their country. The impact of this year’s teachers training might not be quantifiable or immediate, but this is an investment that will have a domino effect for years to come.

What a vision! What an impact! What an organization! To enable us to do more impactful work like this in the future, please donate.

Oluwabukola Makinde

Fellow ‘22

Shifting Narratives: What the World Sees, What I See

What do you think about then you hear “developing country”?

Seriously, stop and think about it.

Look up from your device and try to picture it in your mind.

Think about the environment. What does the country look like? What is the structure of the houses, roads, and cities? How does it sound? How does it smell?

Think about the people. What do they look like? What are they wearing? Where are they and how are they moving around?

If you actually stopped to answer those questions, your mind likely followed one of two paths, both based on personal experience:

Path 1: If you have ever traveled to a developing nation, your mind likely took you back to that place and easily created an image based on what you have seen.

Path 2: If you have never been to a developing nation, your mind likely created its own image informed by what you have heard or observed through media or educational resources.

Neither one of those paths is superior to the other, in fact they are simply the result of natural processes in the brain that seek to build understanding through prior experience. But sometimes, the image our mind creates could not be further from reality.

At the risk of being misunderstood, I am going to be very honest. If you had asked me those questions a few years ago, my response would have sounded something like this:

“I imagine dirt roads and houses structured like huts, made of either sticks or mud. People are walking to get from place to place. There are piles of trash scattered across the ground, clothes hanging outside, and animals grazing at the side of the streets. The sounds are only those made by faint voices or animals in the distance, unless you are at the market, then it is loud and busy.

The people are slim from limited diets. They are dressed in clothes with faded colors that are worn and thin from age. Their eyes look tired, and their faces look stressed from enduring a life of scarcity.”

There is a part of me that is embarrassed to admit that this is the image my mind would have created in the past—a list of assumptions informed only by pictures seen in the news, a narrative formed by promotional stories of aid agencies. Still, there is a part of me that knows this narrative does in fact exist in parts of the developing world and I would like to think that this is a safe space for both truths to exist at the same time.

Narratives have a funny way of changing when we actually live in a place instead of just observing life from a distance. Suddenly, you may come to realize that what the world taught you to see when you think about a certain situation is drastically different from what you see in real life.

When I look at Uganda, even after living here for just a few short weeks, I realize that what much of the world sees when they think about development is not what I see.

They see dirt roads and humble homes, but I see communities built on connection.

They see worn human exteriors, but I see hearts full of compassion.

They see faded clothes and dirty hands, but I see people working hard to provide.

They see a lack of resources, but I see curiosity and innovation.

They see deficient means, but I see joy in all circumstances.

They see strangers living a completely foreign lifestyle, but I see people with the same basic needs as any other human on this planet.

By: Bekah McCarty