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How to use your smartphone: Insights from a pilot course in Dar al-Hawa

Maya De Vries Kedem6 March 2020

Blog post written by Maya de Vries and Laila Abed Rabho

Please note that the participant names used in this blog post, as well as the neighbourhood name ‘Dar al-Hawa’, have been pseudonymised for reasons of anonymity and confidentiality. Dar al-Hawa is the pseudonym for a neighbourhood of 10,000 people in al-Quds (East Jerusalem).

One of the very first observations we had in the field site of Dar al-Hawa was that most people, young and old, own a smartphone. However, when delving deeper into the ways in which they used their phones, we discovered that their digital skills were very limited, and the use of different apps other than WhatsApp, is almost non-existent. Following the goals of the ASSA project, it was clear to us that part of our fieldwork should be to enable individuals to learn and improve their digital skills – an aim also aligned with what Kurt Lewin (1964) called research action in the fieldsite.

It took us more than a year to bring everything together, including finding the right organisation, the right space, getting the timing right, and finding future participants willing to join the course. When it finally happened, we were able to create a pilot course consisting of 12 meetings running for 3.5 hours each. Each of these sessions focused on one thing only, and that is teaching students how to use a smartphone. We partnered with a local organisation called “Good Thought”, a non-profit organisation established in 2003 which aims to reduce social gaps in Israel by providing teaching technical and digital skills to underprivileged groups. Good Thought already teaches similar courses, but they are usually aimed at helping students learn how to use a computer. When we approached them, it was after having spent a long time in the fieldsite, visiting people’s homes and seeing and hearing from different individuals who told us that they don’t have computers or laptops, just smartphones. Hence, we insisted that the course should be focused only on the smartphone. Because of this, the project was effectively a pilot one for the staff of Good Thought as well.

The first meeting took place on the 25th of November at the community centre in Dar al-Hawa, where 17 people arrived to receive information about the course. Eventually, only 15 people registered to attend the course – 4 women and one man. Since the state of Israel has previously declared that it aims to encourage its population and institutes to become more ‘digital’ and thus increase ‘digital equality’[1], we were lucky to receive significant subsidies for the course, meaning each participant only paid 20 NIS for the 12 meetings (NIS = Israeli New Shekel, this is the equivalent of about £4.41).

The leading instructor was N’, a Palestinian woman from al-Quds (East Jerusalem) who is a teacher by profession. Maya de Vries was her assistant throughout the course. In terms of participation and attendance rates, the course was a big success, as more than half of the participants attended 100% of the meetings, and the second half attended around 80-90% of the meetings. This indicates that participants were pleased with the content of the meetings and found it meaningful and helpful. Throughout the course, participants shared these feelings with us and told us how happy they are to be part of it. They also shared with us the fact that this course gives them a reason to get out of the house, and reduces some of the loneliness and boredom they experience on other days of the week when they don’t have other activities planned. One of the participants,  Malak (aged 78) said the course “was something to wake up in the morning and feel happy for”. Here, the act of learning and developing digital skills as part of a group with a mutual goal provided sociality as well, which is something that can be lost in older age.

N’ and de Vries also came to learn difficult it is for individuals who do not speak Hebrew or English to control their smartphones, even if the language of the device itself was set to Arabic. During a lesson about how to use the MyVisit app (a government app assisting users in booking appointments with various formal institutes like electricity companies or the National Insurance Institute etc.), we did not manage to find an Arabic version of it. Hence, those who did not learn Hebrew or English at school were excluded from this particular lesson and completely depended on their group mates as well as N’ and De Vries, to help them.

Figure 1: The MyVisit App (in Hebrew). The smartphone is held by one of the participants. Photo by Maya de Vries (CC BY)

We also came across several government-provided apps and websites which either did not have any Arabic content or had little Arabic content. Furthermore, only 3 out of 15 participants had an email account, and many government-provided apps require email registration to use. Although now each participant has an email account, which they created as part of the course’s assignments, they still found it more difficult to use these. Thus, if the government wants to increase digital participation among different groups, they should think about Whatsapp as an easier-to-use, more functional tool.[2]

In addition to the matter of digital inequality, we also considered the sociopolitical gaps related to the geopolitical conditions of Dar al-Hawa and al-Quds in general[3]. For example, we discovered how difficult it is for this age group to both click on the touch screen as well as wait for their ‘request’ to be uploaded. Many times, we had to explain to our students that they need to be more patient and wait for the app to upload their request, or for the website to appear. We repeated this instruction until our very last meeting – we do not think there is a clear solution to it other than continuing to practice using these tools.

Figure 2: Learning how to turn on the flashlight/torch on their smartphone (Photo by Maya de Vries CC BY)

WhatsApp is the most used app on participants’ phones – they all have it and they all know how to use its basic features such as sending messages and forwarding messages and photos. Nevertheless, we dedicated two lessons to WhatsApp use, including taking photos and selfies, which were not practicalities most of the participants were familiar with. We also taught them how to create a new group and how to record messages. Following WhatsApp, the second most popular apps were Facebook Messenger and Youtube. No one had any health apps on their phone, not even apps related to their health clinic, which has an Arabic language app.

One of the ASSA project’s findings across various field sites, including Japan and Ireland, was that ‘step counter’ apps are in widespread use among the populations studied. These step counters were not used by our participants, not even the versions that are free and built into their phone, although some had heard of step counting and the fact that there was an app on their phone that did just that. No one had actually opened the app, however.

Unfortunately, 12 meetings are simply not enough to teach participants all that smartphones can offer their users. This was something our participants felt during the course as well, and during the final session, they asked to have a second round of the course so they can learn more and develop their skills by learning how to use things like digital banking as well as other features we did not have the time to teach.

Going beyond the skills taught to the participants, as we quoted Malak before, we also heard, in the final session, how happy the students were when coming to the course and learning new things that can assist them in becoming less dependent on their children and grandchildren. Such feelings around the practicalities of independence should be more present among the older population in Dar al-Hawa. Thus, by creating more similar future courses, we are also hoping to make local older people’s lives easier and happier by increasing their knowledge in the digital arena.

Figure 3: The last session’s feast: participants brought home-cooked food to celebrate their achievements during the course. Photo by Maya de Vries (CC BY)

 

 

[1] See more here (in Hebrew): https://www.gov.il/he/departments/digital_israel
[2] We hope to create a greater change and solve this problem.  At the end of March, we are meeting with a representative from the E-Government office (Mimshal Zamin in Hebrew), thus hoping to work with them on both the language gaps, specific the Arabic one, but also on other accessibility issues for older people.
[3] The asymmetry in the education system has a long history, mainly starting after the 1967 annexation of East Jerusalem. For more, see the following Ir Amim report at http://www.ir-amim.org.il/sites/default/files/Education_Report_2017-Fifty_Years_of_Neglect.pdf

Elder care beyond the household

charlotte.hawkins.1720 February 2020

In the contemporary context of global population ageing, anthropological studies of elder care offer a lens onto the ways global processes are experienced and managed in everyday lives (Buch, 2015; Cole and Durham, 2007). Care itself is an increasingly international phenomenon, with, for example, carers from the Global South hired as domestic carers in the Global North (Ahlin, 2017), with migrant children enacting ‘care at a distance’ (Pols, 2012), and with increasing exposure to elder care norms from different societies. In this way, as shown in the conversation with the principal hospital administrator in the Kampala fieldsite cited here, everyday family health care practices are an observable lived experience of wide-reaching socio-political processes. Elder care, or lack thereof, in turn, reflects, reinforces, and in some instances, disrupts these processes (Buch, 2015). This is both interesting for anthropological analysis, linking the individual and historical, and for the potential of sharing this knowledge to improve the health and welfare of our research participants.

In Kampala, an understanding of elder care norms in other societies present an idealised or disparaged alternative against which existing family expectations are re-established. Nakito is the principal hospital administrator at the regional government hospital near the Kampala fieldsite, which itself was built with international funding. She feels the health system she works in needs to have “better provisions for these [older] people”. With the ‘youthful population’ in Uganda, she finds that health policy and funding often forget older people, an approach which she feels should be rectified as the older population grows. She has been particularly inspired by the approach to hospital care for older people she observed on a recent training course in Korea, where she found that there were separate specialised geriatric services in hospitals. This highlighted for her the gaps in the Ugandan health system for older people. She finds that elderly people come to the hospital with multiple conditions and have to “roam around” for all the services they’re referred to, with long queues at each department. “They’re lining up around the hospital”, she says.

Queueing at the hospital. Photo by Charlotte Hawkins (CC BY)

In line with many other researchers (e.g. Nzabona et al., 2016; Oppong, 2006; Whyte, 2017), participants, policymakers and NGO advocates, Nakito is concerned about the future of elder care in Uganda, as institutionalising older relatives like in Europe and the US is “not allowed” and instead “they would rather abandon them”. She predicts that by 2040, 50% of people may choose not to take care of their older relatives, depending on their upbringing. The “natural rule and regulation” of family obligations means that global media portrayals of alternative, independent, selfish ways of life “make you feel freer than your original cultural norms”. Younger people may be influenced to become more ‘independent-minded’, with the ‘self’ more “on the agenda”. She said it’s now more common to hear people say, “I’m actually very busy”, instead of conforming to the expectation that “you must be there for people, as a team” and “check on your people” and “be responsible for your community, and your own belonging”.

Despite these concerns, Nakito herself takes care of her mother, visiting her every weekend in her home village a 5-hour drive from Kampala. She finds that most of her friends do the same thing at least once a month. Even when she allows herself a day off, at the end of it she feels it’s a day wasted without visiting someone. These family care obligations “leave little time for self”, particularly for women (see also Wallman and Bantebya-Kyomuhendo, 1996). Nakito thinks this leads people to focus on the “smaller picture of family units, and sometimes forget society”. She attributes that to the “pressure of globalisation”, which has reduced the community bond to smaller units, based on proximity. In other words, paradoxically, personal pressures imposed by global processes are turning a once more social outlook inward to immediate families or within the household.

The “pressures of globalisation” are also evident in the health outcomes of contemporary lifestyles in the city, with cooking oil and sugar prominent in people’s diets, work over long hours an economic requirement that continues into old age, and increasingly prevalent chronic long-term non-communicable diseases. In this context, the family is crucial to supporting the health of the individual, particularly to supply the time and resources for care. This can result in older people and their relatives adapting to long-term treatment routines. As Sandra Wallman & Grace Bantebya-Kyomuhendo, anthropologists of ‘informal economies of health’ in Kampala, put it; “in economically constrained settings, health choices become health compromises which in turn, become family routines” (Wallman and Bantebya-Kyomuhendo, 1996: 151). As with the ASSA project’s health collaborations and later outputs, by ‘meticulously documenting’ observations of these routines and also the ways in which health conditions are understood, medical anthropology can promote an understanding of the impact of the political economy on marginalised low-income people (Farmer, 2004; Kleinman, 2012), and attempt to centralise human experiences in health systems.

References

  1. Ahlin, T., 2017. Only Near Is Dear? Doing Elderly Care with Everyday ICTs in Indian Transnational Families: Elderly Care with ICTs in Indian Families. Medical Anthropology Quarterly. https://doi.org/10.1111/maq.12404
  2. Buch, E.D., 2015. Anthropology of Aging and Care. Annual Review of Anthropology 44, 277–293. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-anthro-102214-014254
  3. Cole, J., Durham, D.L., 2007. Generations and globalization youth, age, and family in the new world economy.
  4. Farmer, P., 2004. An Anthropology of Structural Violence. Current Anthropology 45, 305–325. https://doi.org/10.1086/382250
  5. Kleinman, A., 2012. Medical Anthropology and Mental Health: Five Questions for the Next Fifty Years.
  6. Nzabona, A., Ntozi, J., Rutaremwa, G., 2016. Loneliness among older persons in Uganda: examining social, economic and demographic risk factors. Ageing and Society 36, 860–888. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0144686X15000112
  7. Oppong, C., 2006. Familial Roles and Social Transformations: Older Men and Women in Sub-Saharan Africa. Research on Aging 28, 654–668. https://doi.org/10.1177/0164027506291744
  8. Pols, J., 2012. Care at a distance: on the closeness of technology, Care & Welfare. Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam.
  9. Susan Whyte, 2017. Epilogue: Successful Aging and Desired Interdependence., in: Successful Aging as a Contemporary Obsession: Global Perspectives. Rutgers University Press., NEW BRUNSWICK, CAMDEN, NEWARK, NEW JERSEY; LONDON, pp. 243–248.
  10. Wallman, S., Bantebya-Kyomuhendo, G., 1996. Kampala women getting by: wellbeing in the time of AIDS, Eastern African studies. James Currey ; Fountain Publishers ; Ohio University Press, London : Kampala : Athens.