On Bulldozers and My Doktorvater

Bulldozer, grading the street.

It is Wednesday morning. I am sitting at Cafe Larem (Blake has affectionately renamed it the Muno Cafe) watching the street being graded by a haphazard bulldozer, which is being watched by about half a dozen younger children -- mostly boys. As if I needed one more thing to add to my list of "It's the same in any language"...Little boys EVERYWHERE can appreciate a bulldozer. As I walked past them earlier and asked them what they were watching, one of them shyly pointed in the direction of the yellow hulking beast and laughed.

Thumbs up, little friend. Good choice. 

Today I am a mix of emotions. I have a lot of work to do, hence my need for an internet connection, but the easy nature of "Ugandan Time" has been disrupted by the rush to frantically achieve a number of things before Friday, which is the day that Dr. Ron Atkinson, my adviser, will begin his return trip to the United States to address the World Bank regarding Acholiland. 


I warn you that this post is a little on the fuzzy-warm side. I'm not usually one to publicize my feelings about other people, but I've just taken a huge step on my academic journey, and for those who have been concerned about my relational progress in grad school, it is important for me to let you all know. 

My MA advisor (Dr. Janet Ward) once hosted her PhD advisor (the indefatigable Dr. Walter Sokel) when he visited UNLV. She told me that working on a Masters creates a bond of professional collegiality, formed over two to three difficult years of work, but that a PhD creates a bond akin to family. This, she explained, is why she called Dr. Sokel her Doktorvater (German for "Doctor Father" or affectionate term for "PhD Adviser"). Now, I have always had the greatest respect for Dr. Ward and throughout my time at UNLV I had the most difficult time imagining her as anything but an amazingly intelligent, amazingly hardworking, amazingly proper, British professor. It wasn't until I saw her in the presence of Dr. Sokel that I saw her as a graduate student who held an amazing affection for her adviser. 

Now, of course, I've been happily reporting to Dr. Atkinson for nearly a year, calling him always by his proper title and holding him at a professional arm's length. However, being in his presence these last few weeks as he took his place in the Northern Ugandan community, I have to admit to being in awe. Somehow, he's become to me what Dr. Sokel was to Dr. Ward. He's my doktorvater. This isn't something that happens overnight, and I'm not sure it even happens with all advisee/adviser relationships. It just occurs. I think there was a moment on this journey when he went from being my "adviser" in the strict sense of the word (complete with the respect due to a teacher), to becoming for me a vital part of my academic life and the scholar I'd want most to be like (with me feeling more like I've gained a treasured -- and wise -- mentor). 

Ron is a man of striking humility. He is practically a celebrity presence in Gulu (we can never go anywhere without someone knowing him or knowing of him and asking after him). He's as much a member of the community as one can become, has written books on Acholi culture, has written articles on the Northern Ugandan war, and has addressed many important global organizations about the nature of this place and the people here. However, if you never knew this about him you'd think he was just an interesting older gentleman who manages to sit quietly and ask good questions of the people around him. He never wastes time with self-promotion, but he always ends up surrounded by people who realize quickly what a wealth of information he is. Ron is a constant student -- always asking questions and trying to more fully understand the depths of complex situations and the research (no matter how obscure) of others. 

I won't even go into what a rare and wonderful thing it is for grad students to spend time in the field with their advisers...the fact that I've been spoiled beyond repair there almost goes without saying. 


My happiest Gulu memories have been sitting across from Ron in various settings (on rain surrounded verandas, at meals, in casual get-togethers) and receiving advice on my research direction. My doktorvater is the very best kind of adviser. He lets me go in whatever direction I choose (even though he may know it will lead to a brick wall) letting me figure much of this journey out and allowing me to make it mine. I own this. He's made sure of it. I take responsibility for all of my failings, my misdirection, and my brick walls, but I'm also permitted to be just a little proud of my successes. When I decided to change dissertation direction, Ron sat with me and brainstormed for about half an hour all of the ways that I could make this work. He has never treated any of my ideas (no matter how far-fetched) with disregard, patiently listening as I chatter on about things I knew very little about when I first started. 


The more I learn, the more I realize how very truly little I know. 


And I have yet to be told this by Ron. 


He just smiles and lets me realize it myself. 

Maybe he figures that I'm pretty good at being my own harshest critic. Maybe he just figures that if I'm serious about this place, I'll get around to performing up to par. Whatever it is, one thing I know for sure: outside of Dr. Ward, few professors have made me want to exceed expectation more than my doktorvater. I want to do the best work I can, to make this the most useful dissertation I can, and then to one day have the good sense to shut my mouth instead of attempting to self-promote when I'm in academic company. 

All good lessons learned at the feet of a master. Although, I'm pretty sure he'd say I was over-stating if I told him that was how I felt. 

Thus it is that I find myself just a little broken hearted that he's going home so soon. 


I'll be able to continue my work in his absence (he's encouraged me from the beginning to be self-sufficient in that arena) but the rainy day talks will be missed.