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- Spring issue 2007
- Editorial
- In the paw steps of the king of the forest
- A greener tale
- Fairer coffee for Kilimanjaro
- Home away from home
- It's in the genes
- In Mannerheim's footsteps
- High-tech organics
- The trouble with human rights
- Der Fingerabdruck von Moos
- Stadt in Bewegung
- On land, sea and air
- Jäätelötötterö at minus 20 degrees
- The help and support of friends is irreplaceable
- 'I'd like to meet your Excellency'
- It's ironic, isn't it?
- Atom for peace and prosperity - tuberous cassava - tropical root crop improvement
- UH index for 2006
On land, sea and air
Most academics work in libraries, laboratories or at a computer. But not all. Science may take the researcher to most unusual places.
Alone at sea
The first time Harri Nyman came in contact with lighthouse islands was when the researcher from the Institute for Cultural Research was hired by the National Board of Antiquities as a field researcher. “My job was to compile an inventory of the buildings on pilot and lighthouse stations,” Nyman says. “I drove a boat from one island to the next and I slept in the lighthouses. I was on the move from the spring until the sea froze over. Moving on one’s own like that is dangerous, but I was too inexperienced to realise that.”
After documenting the sites, he moved on to do research on people who had lived on these islands. Currently, Nyman is writing his doctoral dissertation in the field of ethnology on them and the change in the island culture. Previously, pilots and lighthouse keepers lived on the islands with their families throughout the year. When the children came to school age, their mothers usually moved with them to the mainland. The lifestyle changed in the 1970s, when the rota of one week on duty – one week off was introduced and the families no longer had to live on the islands.
Nyman has interviewed those who have lived on the outer skerries and explored the islands with them. In some cases, isolation combined with alcohol and unsolved aggression has led to serious situations. People have disappeared in unclear circumstances and relationship triangles may have been destructive. “On the other hand, communities such as these may also lead a harmonious existence. Balance could be achieved if neighbours learnt to avoid unnecessary conflicts. Another way is to stay out of contact with neighbours. On some islands, people would not talk to each other and even chose to walk different paths so as not to encounter one another.”
Nyman now has first-hand experience of what isolation means. “In your solitude you have time to think things through, and probably also the lighthouse keeper would have some profound thoughts when staying up at night. When alone you soon start having a conversation, whether it is with stones or birds. ‘Go ahead,’ said the locals. ‘That’s what we do’,” Nyman says.
Travelling on sea was not easy for Nyman. He would sometimes be petrified with fear, every day new unknown waters, and near misses were frequent. “Nature quickly put me in my place. In the makeshift urban world, we create the illusion that we can do anything. When struggling ahead through wind and waves, you suddenly feel very small. That said, nothing makes you feel more alive than surviving in a natural environment,” Nyman muses.
Kenya from a bird’s-eye view
Flying above the magnificent landscape of Kenya sounds like a dream come true but listening to Professor Petri Pellikka from the Department of Geography recalling his experiences may soon make you change your mind. “We do aerial photography on our fields trips from a small plane for over eight hours a day,” says Pellikka. “Flying in a small aircraft is like a roller-coaster ride, and there is no time to admire the view. You often just feel sick.”
Pellikka is studying changes in Kenyan forest and land use through GIS data as part of a research project funded by the Academy of Finland. He usually takes five students on a field trip to Kenya once a year. The greatest obstacles are usually due to logistics. The researchers use local rental cars and the vehicles are not always up to scratch. Parts fall off and worn-out tyres puncture easily. “The rental cars always come with a jack but usually it is for a different, lower vehicle! Changing tyres in the middle of a desert is difficult, unless you happen carry a piece of two-by-four to raise the jack, or dig a whole underneath the car,” Pellikka says.
They also bring bikes to verify the accuracy of remote sensing images. Pellikka enjoys that part of the work, since he is an active mountain bike orienteer. “We also develop the population census methods in the area. We counted the number of houses from the air, and then selected sample roads, and counted how many lived in the houses along it. I rode my bike from house to house, looking like someone out of space with my tight-fitting cycling outfit and helmet,” Pellikka says.
The researchers have ended up in quite unique places. The high point of one trip was a visit to a skull cave, where they were taken by consent from a village elder and spirits. According to an old tradition, when an elder died, he would be exhumed after a couple of years, and the skull removed and taken to a sacred place. The cave had hundreds of skulls. “The experience left me with conflicting emotions: I felt like an intruder but yet there was certain excitement almost in Indiana Jones style. Afterwards we learnt, however, that our visit had caused a commotion in the village, since we had brought along female students, who should not have been allowed in the cave,” Pellikka says.
The professor has visited Kenya so many times that he is now a member of the local football team. Playing there is much riskier than in Finland, because players play barefoot and the pitch is usually dotted with slippery cowpats. Pellikka has decided to bring football boots for his team on his next visit.
Earth to earth
Preparing the deceased for burial is nowadays handled by professionals. Handling dead bodies is governed by numerous rituals and traditions that show reverence towards the deceased and ensure that everything is done by the book. This work is done out of public view and is therefore considered mysterious.
“People instinctively feel reserved towards a dead person. For example, the distinct smell of death is like a warning signal,” says Gustaf Molander, Docent of Thanatology working at the Department of Social Policy, University of Helsinki.
For Molander, death has long been an integral part of his job. He is currently working on a research project Matka mullan alle (Journey below the ground – the everyday life of those working with the dead and how they cope) funded by the Finnish Work Environment Fund, with the aim of learning about the experiences and occupational well-being of the different professionals working with the dead.
Prejudices and preconceptions about those working with the dead are rife. Particularly young workers take care not to reveal their job in social situations. Molander has worked alongside these workers for his research to see in practice what their work is like. He has joined them in fetching bodies, dressing them and sieving ashes at the crematorium.
“The sense of reverence towards the deceased and the relatives is always present.Sometimes it feels strange that this job is carried out so delicately and the gestures are so beautiful, although the persons themselves are not there anymore to witness it. Their hair is always combed, and some undertakers even put flowers inside the coffin at their own expense, although no one will see them. I think those working with the dead carry out acts of charity: despite the natural aversion towards the dead and death, or precisely because of it, the deceased is treated with utmost dignity. I, too, have ambiguous feelings about the work. As a doctor, I feel curious. I pay attention to the progress of decay in the body and such things as whether or not rigor mortis has already subsided. I always use gloves when touching the deceased, and when dressing them I take care to cover them up properly and that everything is neat and tidy,” Molander explains.
How does it feel to handle dead bodies? “Cold, especially if the bodies come from the refrigerator. The deceased are never known to me personally and I think that he or she has already crossed the border and is not there anymore. I feel sad only when I meet the relatives. Seeing the dead body of a young person or someone who has died from violence makes me angry at the injustice of life. Why do these things happen? I feel I am doing something altruistic and something good for the whole of mankind by looking after the dead.”
Arja-Leena Paavola