By Viviane Hamans Almost anyone who has been ‘in the field’, will confirm that at some point, crisis is part of the process. The amounts of time that I worried about whether I was on…
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By Marina de Regt Recently, during a supervision meeting with three of my Master students (all of them women), one of them asked about my own experiences in the field and what I struggled with…
1 CommentIn this episode, Puck de Boer talks with Aleeha Ali, who studied sociology in Pakistan, did a research master’s in anthropology in the UK and is currently a PhD candidate at the department of Social…
Leave a CommentBY SHANNON VAN LEEUWEN, EVELIEN VAN OVERVELD & FRIDUS STEIJLEN March 16, early in the morning I received a Whatsapp message from my student Shannon: ‘We received a letter from Campus saying that all students…
1 Commentby Vivienne Schröder At a pitch event I meet John “startup” Doe*. I am very biased to meet him after the pitches: That name sounds familiar. It sounds Dutch. We start talking, and I explain…
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This photo essay is about the process of making Nsima flour, the most important food people eat every day in Malawi.
Malawi
The process starts...
Working on the Fields
End of the Season
Waiting for the Harvest
Preparing the Maize
At the Mill:
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Malawi
Most of the houses in the rural areas of Malawi disappear between the maize fields. -
The process starts...
Maize is planted in the fields and around the houses. -
Working on the Fields
Both men and women work on the fields, one of the daily activities during the rainy season. -
End of the Season
At the end of the rainy season people have to wait until the crops are dried. Slowly, the green colour of the fields turn to brown. -
Waiting for the Harvest
A woman walks in between the maize fields, which are almost ready to harvest. -
Preparing the Maize
The maize is peeled and dried, now it is time to go to the mill. -
At the Mill:
The mill grinds the maize into flour. This flour can be stored and used the whole year until the next rainy season when the process starts again.

By Aniek Santema The floor in Ouzai where Mariam lives becomes a familiar place. I know the people in this corner of the tall building and they greet me happily when I visit them. Today, the stairs that lead up to this floor are slippery and covered with garbage like empty bags of chips, chocolate wraps and orange peels. While climbing up the stairs to the third floor, I pass by some small kids with stains on their clothes, faces and hands, running and playing on the stairs. The youngest must be around 2 years old. Many of the kids walk around on bare feet, even though it is not warmer than 12 degrees today. 3 boys come down the stairs while playing loud music on one of their phones. On Mariam’s floor, I find Aziza playing with some small kids in the gallery, away from the dark rooms, getting some daylight. The colourful laundry that hangs outside to dry gives some colour to the grey building that breaths hopelessness. I follow the small, dark corridor in the left corner of the floor and knock on Mariam’s door. – Fieldnotes, 6 March 2017
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