Dear team,
“The waiting rooms are designed to be uncomfortable.”
This is the first thing I hear from my gatekeeper as I step into the hospital. It’s the first day of my fieldwork, and I’m being given a tour. I look around and see a cramped space, barely touched by daylight. People sit in rows, very close to one another, like in a theatre—but the purpose for being here is far less enjoyable.
He repeats: “The waiting rooms are designed to be uncomfortable—to make people leave if they’re not ill enough. If their problems aren’t urgent, they won’t stay, and someone who truly needs help will receive it sooner.”
I feel no desire to even enter the room.
The building has been renovated; it looks new, clean, and well-organized. Yet every brick in these walls holds a story. There is always something hidden behind the façade, and gatekeepers help us uncover these secrets and mysteries. As anthropologists, we rely heavily on gatekeepers. They play a vital role in granting us access to research settings and can profoundly shape our ethnographic experiences. And it’s rarely just one person who facilitates access—often, multiple individuals are involved at different levels. One may assist with recruiting participants by making introductions, while another helps establish the trustworthiness and credibility of the research.
We continue our tour, walking through the seemingly endless corridors. Finally, we reach our destination—the ward where I will conduct my fieldwork and spend the next few months. We arrive at the secretariat, where a woman with a gentle smile stands to welcome us. There is a sense of calm authority in the way she speaks—like someone used to being in control of details, schedules, and decisions that often go unnoticed but matter deeply.
The gatekeeper says, “Let me introduce you to the most important person in the building—our secretary.” And I take it seriously. She has worked in this organization for over 30 years; I doubt there’s anything she doesn’t know about this department.
Later, she becomes a key figure in my research by connecting me with physicians, arranging interview schedules, and supporting on a personal level. Power doesn’t always reside in corner offices. Sometimes, it rests behind a well-organized desk, in the hands of someone who truly knows how the place runs. And it is our job, as anthropologists, to uncover these hidden dynamics and interpersonal relationships.
Best,
