Anthropology

Anthropology Success Stories - Meet Brian!

Meet Brian!

Photo of Brian My interests in anthropology began when I was about 15 years old and stumbled upon some interesting books about the possible diffusion of cultural traits from Old World societies to Mesoamerican and Andean cultures. To my dismay (and others I imagine) many of the conclusions I read about proved to lack scientific credibility. However, from these misguided beginnings, a true curiosity for anthropological thought and research too hold.

My first formal training in anthropology was in the fall semester of 1998 at Truckee Meadows Community College in Reno, Nevada under the direction of Dr. Julia Hammett, Ph. D. The high level of energy displayed by Dr. Hammett and my desire to learn about different cultures provided a wonderful foundation upon which all of my research has been built. Believe it or not, at one time I actually knew nothing of the importance of slash-and-burn agriculture. Amazing, isn't it?

Currently I am enrolled at California State University, Chico, with an expected graduation date of May 2002 (major in anthropology and a minor in Latin American studies). Under the guidance of the Department Chairperson, Dr. Frank Baham and other professors-including Dr. Carolyn Heinz, Dr. Mark Kowta and Dr. William Loker-I received a thorough undergraduate education following Chico's traditional four-field approach. I studied linguistics under Dr. Alex King, cultural anthropology with Dr. Mike Finley, archaeology in Dr. Martinez's Class, and was able to "challenge" Dr. P. Willey's physical anthropology class.

The "challenge" exam process was one of my greater achievements so far at Chico State. Thanks to Dr. Julia Hammett's style of teaching, much of what I learned in her physical anthropology class was retained well enough that I was able to simply take the final exam of Chico State's anthropology department physical class. Out of twelve people who attempted to take the final so that they would not have to sit through the entire class, only two of us passed-all of this in the first week of the fall 2001 semester. It should come as no surprise that there was little sleep to be had those first few days of class in September.

The reason that I chose Chico State over UNR or another institution was its ample supply of international programs. Chico has a number of direct-exchange opportunities that provide students with relatively open access to many foreign countries and cultures. I elected to study for half a semester in Mexico on the Yucatan Peninsula.

The program was managed by the Latin American studies department and allowed for six weeks of intensive language emersion studies to be coupled with a working position at a job site that suited each student's interests. Since I am a Flight Instructor and have worked in all aspects of aviation over the last five years, the program advisers got me a position at Mexicana, the largest air carrier in Mexico.

My job consisted of taking peoples tickets when they came to the reservations desk and basically arranging their boarding passes for easier identification by the counter people. Needless to say, it was a completely unnecessary position but gave me an opportunity to work with some very fine Mexican individuals, some of whom I became very sincere friends with over the course of my stay in Merida.

What made the job interesting is that the podium I stood at while on duty was mistaken often as an information booth by passengers and family members wandering through the airport. Everyday someone would come up to me and rattle off some question about how to find this or that gate or where there luggage was or how to get to the customs agents. The problem arose when they found out that I could neither speak nor understand Spanish very well. I would just shrug my shoulders, and we would sit in an uncomfortable silence for a while before I said something really pathetic like, "No hablo espanol." People thought I was joking. They would mutter something under their breath that I assumed meant "well then what the %#*!! are you doing standing at the information booth, gringo?" In time, I was able to improve my Spanish enough that I could field a few questions, but no amount of studying prepared me for the wall that the language barrier placed around me.

I stayed with a wonderful family for the six weeks I was in Merida. The mother of the household is a schoolteacher in a distant Mayan community and through a number of excursions with her to the town I was able to gain the confidence of a young man and his parents. For a week in December I was blessed with the opportunity to live and hang out in their Maya village with them; sleeping in a hammock in their one room cinder-block "house" and cooking meals over an open fire pit.

After I left Merida, I went on a solo expedition around Southern Mexico with the hopes to explore some Maya ruins that I had been reading about for years. The anthropology department at the University in Merida yielded some wonderful primary sources about research that had been taking place in the region, and it was my intention to see some of it first hand.

First I went to Palenque and then deeper into the state of Chiapas. While en route from Palenque to the state capitol, my bus was hijacked, robbed, and I was forced to give up my money and shoes at gunpoint. When we stopped at the next town after the robbers pulled us off the road and departed into the jungle, the police said that a similar incident had occurred a few days earlier but ended in a gun fight between an off-duty soldier and the bandits. Two people were left dead. It was only then that the reality of what had occurred sunk into my bones.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and I am happy to report that I was able to see Yaxchilan, Bonampak as well as Ek Balam, all tremendously beautiful and remote sites. I returned to the states via Mexico City and plan on returning to our exotic neighbor country as soon as I can.

After graduation I plan on pursuing a career in aviation although it is my intention to continue studying anthropology as well. In 2003, a friend and I have planned an around-the-world bicycle trip that will take us through Southeast Asia, China, Siberia (on a train) and then through Europe. From there a flight to New York will drop us off for our last United States leg of the journey. I intend to pursue a master's in anthropology upon returning to California.

"We can never truly understand anything unless we see it from as many angles as possible. When I sit here in this foreign place I understand that everything I have ever known has been tainted by the invisible ink of perspective. Like a fish, I had no idea what waters I was in."

- journal entry, November 23, 2000, Mexico

It is night where you are

I just crashed the simulator. I hate that. I hate crashing, even if it's not real-makes me feel incompetent. Partial panel with a poorly functioning turn coordinator on an NDB approach, number two for landing in the hold. Shooting an ILS off a spinning HSI... I suppose things could be worse?

I've been in Midrand, South Africa, for about a week now. We flew into Johannesburg last Friday morning, then moved up here to some little hibernation cubicle of a hotel the next day. I and another pilot from AriServ are obtaining our initial South African validations to our existing pilots' licenses. It's really just a matter of taking our commercial pilot check-rides over again, but using the South African procedures. They use a different approach plate format, with much of the flying done outside of controlled airspace-so not a lot of vectors-to-final approach for the ILS. Here they fly you to a fix, then descend you in a holding pattern (circuit) to the intermediate approach altitude, and then clear you for a procedure turn inbound. After that, they wait for either a call that you've landed or sounds of crumpled metal.

We're will be staying in South Africa a bit longer than expected, probably leaving here next Tuesday. Our tests are beginning this afternoon,first in the aircraft and the written exam is tomorrow. After that, I'm not sure why we're staying or what we will do, but I imagine that alcohol will be involved. I think we're going to do the flight training for the company after this, but it might not be until Monday. This country is beautiful, with beautiful people and stunning landscapes. It's what I would imagine parts of Italy or France to look like--long sloping terrain covered in a patchwork of farms. The towns are small, and everywhere people are walking to work or strolling along the streets. To own a car (or a computer for that matter) is quite an achievement, so most people just walk. It's pretty warm here, as we are rolling into summer in the southern hemisphere, and everyone is gearing up for their summer break, which happens to fall just around Christmas time.

Ray and I do a lot of driving around trying to find new and interesting places to eat. Prices of food are almost exactly what they are in the states, with one dollar equal to about 5 South African Rand. A burger ends up being 25- 30 rand, so it's roughly the same, but their money is covered with pictures of zebras and rhinos. Like Mexico, it has indigenous roots that it displays very prominently.

I imagine it wasn't so on-the-surface during apartheid, but I don't really know. Apparently, since apartheid ended, things have been getting much better and safer, but it's still pretty bad in the easements around town. "Don't go walking through any fields after dark," they say. They have a special love for barbed wire here, that is for sure. Apartheid, I guess, was like what happened in the American South before the civil rights acts in 1964, kind of the Jim Crow thing. The blacks were treated as third-class citizens and banned from holding public office. They had curfews imposed on them and couldn't leave the areas of the cities where they lived without permission. We met an ex-police officer the other day, who told us all about beating up blacks and the violence that took place. Apartheid ended a decade ago, when President DeClerk decided that it was time to change. It all happened without a revolution, and ever since. things have been getting better financially, socially and internationally. There used to be sanctions in place to embargo South Africa because of its policies of racism. All that is gone now and most people are happier. There is still a lot of racism, but it is not so much directed at blacks as the factors which lead to their poverty. People don't like black Africans because they are "stupid" or "poor and violent." Of course, they recognize that the system created the blacks as poor and uneducated, and most people, even the ex-cop, recognize that things will change in the next few generations.

Possibly the two hardest things for me in coming to Africa were the jet lag and the driving situation. Jet lag was fierce. We are 11 hours ahead of Pacific Time. That means I am in the future right now compared to all of you. And driving is accomplished here from the front right seat of the car. We drive on the left-hand side of the road. This is harder than it may seem and it only took me about 5 minutes after leaving the AVIS parking lot at Joburg International airport before I nearly killed an entire busload of innocent African workers. Blind spots are a bit different when you're sitting on the right. By now, though, I am a pro, and I enjoy that no one stops for such superfluous things like stop signs or pedestrians. You pretty much floor it at 120 km everywhere and slow down only for walls and tight turns. If you stop at an intersection, people lay on the horn and wonder what your problem is. The Africans shake their heads and kindly give you the universal sign of cutting your head off (index finger drawn across the throat slowly), which is always comforting when you haven't mastered Zulu and can't apologize. Ugh.

I'll send more dispatches later, of course, and hope to be able to upload photos once I am on the laptop. Right now internet connections are rare, and the plugs here are completely not what I was expecting. My "universal" adapter doesn't have the gigantic three-pronged African plug on it, so my laptop is in hibernation until further notice. It has stopped talking to me, regardless of how much I poke it. Okay friends, talk to you soon. We're at 5,500 feet over Midrand and four-five past the hour. Afghanistan next.

- journal entry, December 1, 2004

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