This book emphasizes what I believe to be an immeasurably important aspect of the self, the mind and psychology, which is context. To what extent the environment shapes us is still argued and attempts are made everyday to understand the impact that various factors of our lives have on who we are and what we become. It is understood however, that the people and things around us undoubtedly play a role in who, what and why we are what we are. Books like these, intricate studies of cultures we see as foreign, give insight to how minds are shaped by customs, beliefs and socioeconomic status. Through the authors’ journey to better understand a single individual, the reader is brought to understand how something as innocent as translation can alter how we perceive a world foreign to our own. When the original documents of the trial are taken into deeper consideration however, the reader is able to witness how much more than language shaped what we, and others think of Mrs Konile and ultimately how an incorrect impression was made.
What is so beautiful about this book is the feeling of connectedness to Mrs. Konile and how that connection is established. I believe that this was achieved by explaining the context of Mrs. Koniles life. Context is so much more than environment or people but also that which we own, what is given to use, that which we want, the years we live, the historical context of those years and much more. Context is truly unlimited, explaining the difficulty in its measure. This book allows the reader to deeply understand and feel for Mrs. Konile on many levels, giving us context of her story, her past and her present, all amplified as we struggle with the authors to find meaning in her statements. As the authors break her statements into pieces, both the translated and original documents, we get to join them in the process of knowing Mrs. Konile through her own contextual lens. As differences between her life and ours are brought to the surface and the meaning that was lost in translation, we appreciate her more and more, eventually we feel as though we know her and I for one, am glad for it.
You do a great job of articulating the complexity of context: “Context is so much more than environment or people but also that which we own, what is given to use, that which we want, the years we live, the historical context of those years and much more. Context is truly unlimited, explaining the difficulty in its measure.”
In other words, context is too extensive to measure or account for, but we need tools to do our best. One of the great things about this book is how careful and reflective the authors are about developing a methodology that can account for this complexity without claiming to have exhausted it.
I agree with your analysis Andrew and think the authors took us even further by not only helping us get to know Mrs. Konile, but also by helping us get to know ourselves.
The authors were faced with their own realities in contrast to that of Mrs. Konile and I felt were fairly honest in their interactions with that which was unknown to them. Antije says, “I don’t think I have the tools to hear poverty” (177) which is preceded by where the authors become one as they eat out and the end of their trip saying, “it might have been that the poverty of Mrs. Konile had brought a class solidarity among us” (173). Their shared experience allowed them to “move freely, as if the racial stereotyping that always stays with us like a shadow, was suddenly no longer there” (173).
Whether it was Antije admitting that she both respected and resented being left out of the in-person interview with Mrs. Konile, or the change in the researcher’s dynamic, the self of the observers was changed. Witnessing so clearly the changes and awareness has the potential to influence the self of the readers. I think it is difficult for us to understand our own selves in our contexts without knowing something of the context of others.