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The Human Services Internship:
Getting the Most from Your Experience

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Developing an Electronic Portfolio 29
Portfolio Formats 30
E-Portfolio Benefits 31
Content and Organization of Educational E-Portfolios 31
Conclusion 32
For Your E-Portfolio 32
Questions for Further Thought and Discussion 34
References 34
Chapter 2
Getting Acquainted 37
Getting to Know Your Agency 38

Getting to Know Your Co-Workers 38
Understanding Your Role in the Organization 40
Learning About the Agency’s Mission, Goals, Objectives, and Strategies 41
Learning About the Agency’s Organizational Structure 44
Learning About Agency Funding 46
Learning About the Agency’s Network 51
Learning About Your Client Groups 53
Learning About the Context of Your Organization 55
Getting to Know the Community 55
Understanding Your Agency’s Social Policy Context 61
Conclusion 70
References 72
Chapter 3
Developing Ethical Competence 75
An Overview 76
Competency 1: Understanding the Ethical and Legal Foundations of the Profession 77
Ethical Standards of the Human Service Profession 77
Legal Issues and Standards of the Profession 80
Competency 2: Understanding the Values and Ideals That Guide Responsible Human
Services Practice 81
Competency 3: Recognizing the Ethical, Legal, and Values Issues Your Work 83
Competency 4: Making Ethical Decisions and Weighing Competing Values and Ethical
Principles 89
Ethical Decision-Making Models 89
Weighing Competing Values and Ethical Principles 93
Maintaining Appropriate Professional Boundaries 95
Maintaining Appropriately Open Boundaries 98
Guarding Against Dual and Multiple Relationships 100
vi contents
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Conclusion 104
References 107
Chapter 4
Learning to Learn from Experience: Understanding

Learning Styles and The Integrative Processing Model 109
Understanding Your Preferred Learning Style 109

The Role of Reflection and Critical Thinking in Learning from Experience 115
The Integrative Processing Model 116
Step 1: Gathering Objective Data from Concrete Experience 118
Step 2: Reflecting 119
Step 3: Identifying Relevant Theory and Knowledge 121
Step 4: Examining Dissonance 123
Step 5: Articulating Learning 125
Step 6: Developing a Plan 126
Applying the Integrative Processing Model 128
Conclusion 133
Question for Further Thought and Discussion 135
References 135
Chapter 5
Using Supervision 137
Understanding the Supervisory Relationship 138

Supervision and Learning Styles 139
Supervisor Characteristics 142
Student Characteristics 144
Working Within the Supervisory Relationship 147
Supervision Is a Planned Contact 147
contents vii
Supervision Is Prepared For 147
Supervision Involves Discussing Professional Issues 148
Supervision Includes Planning 148
Supervision Generates Feedback 149
Conclusion 153
References 155
Chapter 6
Communicating in Your Internship 157
The Basic Skills 157

Values and Attitudes 158
Active Listening 160
Client Interviewing 161
Exploration Skills 164
Action Skills 164
The Content and Direction of Communication: Considering the Strengths-Based
Perspective 166
Working with Individuals, Families, Groups, and Communities 169
Working with Individuals 169
Working with Reluctant Clients 169
Case Management and Advocacy 172
Working with Families 175
Working with Groups 179
Working with Communities 184
Community Education 186
Community Organization 189
Political Engagement and Advocacy 192
Agency Administration as Community Practice 194
Conclusion 196
References 197
Chapter 7
Developing Cultural Competence 199
An Overview 200
Understanding Concepts Related to Diversity 202
Experiencing Diverse Groups 203
Increasing Your Knowledge of Multiple Cultures 205
Gaining Awareness of Your Own Culture 207
Decreasing Ethnocentrism 210
viii contents
Understanding Biculturalism as an Adaptive Mechanism 212
Understanding Social Location 214
Understanding Power Differentials 217
Understanding Agency Culture 219
Considering Prejudice, Discrimination, and You 220
Conclusion 222
Questions for Further Discussion 224
References 224
Chapter 8
Writing and Reporting Within Your Field Agency 227
Writing in Human Service Settings 228

Written Reports Related to Direct Services to Clients 230
Purposes of Documentation 230
Ground Rules for Documentation 232
Common Types of Written Reports Regarding Direct Client Care 233
Confidentiality and Technology in Written Communication and Reports 239
Written Reports Related to Administrative Services 241
Annual Reports 242
Process Evaluation Reports 242
Outcome Evaluations 243
Reports to the Board of Directors 244
Funding Requests 245
Public Relations 246
Oral Reporting and Presentations 248
Conclusion 250
Questions for Further Reflection and Discussion 251
References 252
Chapter 9
Taking Care of Yourself 253
Developing Self-Awareness 254

Developing Self-Understanding 255
Developing Assertiveness 256
Developing Conflict Resolution Skills 258
Developing Positive Self-Talk 261
Developing Self-Control 264
Learning to Manage Your Stress and Caring for Yourself 265
Intensity of Experience over the Past Month 266
Practicing Mindfulness 269
Changing Attitudes and Beliefs 270
contents ix
Shifting Focus 270
Maintaining a Balance Between Your Work Life and Your Personal Life 273
Keeping Safe 278
Conclusion 281
Questions for Further Thought and Reflection 283
References 283
Chapter 10
Ending Your Internship 287
Evaluating Your Performance 288

Understanding the Final Evaluation 288
Preparing for Your Evaluation 290
The Field Supervisor’s Perspective 291
The Evaluation Conference 292
The Faculty Liaison’s Perspective 294
Leaving Your Internship 295
General Guidelines for Positive Termination 296
Be Aware of Your Previous Experiences and Patterns with Terminations 296
Be Self-Aware, Recognizing Your Needs and Wants (Baird, 2011; Welfel & Patterson, 2005) 297
Reflect Upon and Deal with Your Feelings (Corey & Corey, 2011; Levine, 2013;
Okun & Krantowitz, 2008) 298
Review the Experience (Alle-Corliss & Alle-Corliss, 2006; Corey, & Corey, 2011;
Okun & Kranowitz, 2008) 299
Acknowledge the Progress and the Changes That You Have Made (Baird, 2011;
Okun & Kranowitz, 2008; Royse, Dhooper, & Rompf, 2012) 300
Saying Good-Bye to Your Supervisor 301
Saying Good-Bye to Your Clients 303
Transferring Your Work 307
Termination Rituals 308
Conclusion 310
References 311
Chapter 11
Planning Your Career 313
Where Are You Now? Thinking About the “Answered Questions” 314
Where Are You Now? Thinking About the “Unanswered Questions” 317
Where Are You Going? Clarifying Your Career Goals 319
Achieving Your Career Goals 321
x contents
Basic Steps in Career Development 324
Step 1: Clarifying Long-Term Goals as Distinct from Short-Term Goals or Intermediate Goals 324
Step 2: Doing Your Research (For a Job or an Advanced Academic Program) 325
Step 3: Conducting a Job Search 328
Establishing and Maintaining Networks 328
Developing a Resume 329
Writing Effective Letters 332
Developing Interviewing Skills 334
Maintaining a Positive Outlook 337
Conclusion 338
Questions for Further Reflection and Discussion 339
References 339
appendix
Ethical Standards for Human Service Professionals 341
index 351
contents xi
Preface
To the Instructor
Welcome to the fourth edition of The Human Services Internship: Getting the Most from
Your Experience. Like the previous editions, this book is designed for use by students
and instructors who are engaged in the challenging experience of fieldwork in human
service agencies. The book is organized around the key issues that students encoun-
ter in human service internships. These range from theoretical content areas such as
cultural competence and ethical decision making to more personal challenges such as
taking care of yourself as a human service intern and professional.
My work on this fourth edition has taken on added significance in light of current
developments in higher education that have identified internships as a “high-impact
practice” (Kuh, 2008) that can “lead to higher levels of student performance, learn-
ing, and development than traditional classroom experiences” (Brownell & Swaner,
2010). Simply completing an internship, however, is not sufficient in and of itself to
create these positive outcomes. Data on high-impact practices thus far demonstrate
that internships “must be done well” (Kuh, 2008, 20, italics in original) to make these
significant impacts on student learning and development. Though still very much in
its infancy, research on high-quality internships suggests that the approaches taken
in this text are on target to deliver high-quality, high-impact internships. For exam-
ple, the text’s emphasis on integrating knowledge with real world experiences; on
intensive reflection, analysis, and critical thinking throughout the experience; and
on opportunities for rich discussion and feedback in interactions with both faculty
and peers are consistent with what we know about the necessary components of a
high-quality internships (Kuh, 2008; Nelson, Laird, Shoup, Kuh, & Schwartz, 2008;
O’Neill, 2010). These findings reinforce the hopes I have always had for this text.
As with previous editions, I hope you find that the “teachable moments” of your
students’ internships become even more powerful through the timely presentation of
relevant information and critical reflection offered here. I hope you find that your stu-
dents are able to integrate knowledge and experience more effectively through the
use of this text. I hope you find that they experience significant personal and profes-
sional growth through the intensive reflection and analysis that this book encourages.
If you have suggestions as to how I might modify this text to reach these goals more
effectively, I appreciate and invite your comments.
New to This Edition

If you are familiar with the third edition, you will note a number of changes in this
latest version. From beginning to end, all topics have been updated with the most
xiii
current information and relevant scholarship. Chapter 1, Getting Started, updates
information about the technology involved in developing e-portfolios and provides
information and resources pertinent to issues involved in paid vs unpaid internships.
Chapter 2, Getting Acquainted, has greatly expanded content related to agency
budgets, macro-practice settings, and the international reach of contemporary human
service organizations. In Chapter 3, Developing Ethical Competence, the discussion
of ethical issues in internships has been extended to include current information and
research related to the topic and provides updated frameworks for and perspectives
on ethical decision making. Chapter 4, Learning to Learn from Experience:
Understanding Learning Styles and The Integrative Processing Model, previously
focused exclusively on the Integrative Processing Model, now places this content in
the broader context of student learning styles and engages students in exploring their
own specific learning styles and the potential impact of these styles on their internship
experiences. Chapter 5, Using Supervision, is similarly modified to discuss how
learning styles come into play in the supervisory process. Chapter 6, Communicating
in Your Internship, has greatly expanded content related to macro-practice roles,
including community education, community organization, political engagement and
advocacy, and agency administration as community practice. Chapter 7, Developing
Cultural Competence, provides updated demographic information and places greater
emphasis on issues of prejudice, discrimination, and oppression as compared with
earlier editions. Chapter 8, Writing and Reporting Within Your Field Agency, now
includes formats for both the SOAP and the DAP approaches to documentation as well
as more current perspectives on various forms of administrative reports. Throughout
the chapter, more attention is given to the role of technology in writing and reporting
in human service agencies. Chapter 9, Taking Care of Yourself, in this edition includes
a discussion of mindfulness practice as a self-care strategy. Recent scholarship and
perspectives on burnout and worker safety also have been added to this chapter.
Chapter 10, Ending Your Internship, guides students through the process of attending
to their own issues as the internship comes to an end (e.g., the evaluation process and
their own emotional reactions to termination) while also being professionally attuned
to the needs and perspectives of those with whom they have developed relationships
during the experience (e.g., clients, their supervisor, coworkers). Chapter 11, Planning
Your Career, has been revised to reflect the role of the Internet, social media, and
other technologies in securing a job. Beyond these updates, some of the content from
previous editions has been reorganized. For example, information about making oral
presentations, which was previously in Chapter 8, Writing and Reporting, has now
been incorporated into the discussion of “Community Education” in Chapter 6
Communicating in Your Internship.
New to every chapter in this edition are “Questions for Further Thought and
Discussion” at the end of each chapter. The many exercises in the chapters prompt
individual student reflection, and I encourage faculty to draw upon these exercises as
springboards for group discussions in the internship seminar class as well. The new
“Questions for Further Thought and Discussion” feature provides additional prompts
for use in class, often taking a broader view than is represented in the in-chapter ex-
ercises. Recent scholarship on internship pedagogy suggests that learning in intern-
ships is enhanced when students have opportunities to discuss their experiences and
thoughts with their peers. This new edition provides an abundance of material to
stimulate these discussions.
xiv prefAce
Finally, many instructors will find useful a new addition to the Appendix of this
fourth edition. There you will find a chapter analysis for the Council on Standards
for Human Service Education Standards for both Bacculaureate and Associate degree
programs. Each standard is listed in a convenient chart format along with the specific
chapters of this fourth edition that include relevant content.
Features from Previous Editions

You will also note that the key strengths of the previous editions have been main-
tained. As has always been the case, the text is designed for students at any level in
their educational programs, majors and non-majors alike, but is geared primarily to an
undergraduate audience. Although it is written for students taking course work in hu-
man service education programs, it may be used to great advantage with any student
engaged in fieldwork or internships in a human service agency, especially those in so-
cial science disciplines such as psychology, sociology, and social work as well as those
in nonprofit management or other agency administration programs.
Because the structure and organization of field experiences vary broadly from
program to program, the text is written with this is mind. Students will benefit from
using it in course-linked fieldwork projects, one-month “mini-term” experiences, or
longer half-semester, full-semester, or full-year practica and internships. The text is
ideal for use in field seminar courses where various exercises and topics can be fur-
ther discussed, but it may also be used fairly independently by students. Increasingly,
distance internships are a part of many academic programs. In these experiences, stu-
dents participate in internships anywhere in the country or even internationally while
interacting with a faculty member and/or participating in the seminar online. This
text is an excellent resource for students and faculty engaged in these distance field
education experiences in which there is little or no face-to-face instructional time be-
tween faculty and students.
Finally, a word about terminology might be in order. Because academic programs
use a variety of different terms to refer to their field experiences, I do the same in this
book. I use the terms “internship” and “fieldwork” interchangeably throughout the
text. Similarly and for the same reason, I use the terms “faculty liaison” and “faculty
supervisor” interchangeably in referring to the role of the faculty member working
with the student during the field experience.
Purpose
My purpose in creating this book has remained constant from the first edition through
the fourth edition. My goal has always been to create a tool that will help students
and faculty in the challenging, but potentially powerful, teaching and learning process
presented by the internship experience. Students in their human service fieldwork
are expected to meet multiple and complex objectives. As a faculty member working
with internship students, my sense is that many teachable moments can be lost, or
not fully exploited, when students are not prompted to think more deeply about their
experiences as they relate to the extensive body of knowledge of the human service
prefAce xv
field. The purpose of this text is to prompt students toward deeper thought than they
might otherwise give their experiences. The goal of the text is to help students maxi-
mize their learning in every experience by providing information, structure, guidance,
and coaching, empowering them to approach their work with greater thoughtfulness
and confidence. Toward this end, the text is realistic, practical, and supportive in its
approach.
During internships, students may be supervised closely by agency supervi-
sors and staff but may have relatively little direct contact with faculty members and
classmates as compared to their experiences in traditional classroom-based courses.
Although internship students may be placed in rich learning environments and work
under good supervision, the demands of the workday often preclude the opportunity
for them to discuss their experiences on a daily basis. As a result, opportunities for
learning all that they might from various experiences are sometimes missed. As an
instructor of field-based courses, I have often wished that I could sit down with each
of my students at the end of the day to discuss their experiences, call attention to im-
portant issues, raise questions, and help them draw upon the knowledge base of the
profession to make sense of their experiences. Obviously, this is not possible. This
text engages students in a similar process of thinking and reflection. In fact, with my
own students, I sometimes refer to this book as “the professor in your pocket.” With-
out a text to accompany the internship, the task of transferring learning from the
classroom to the world of work can be overwhelming, or even impossible, for many
students. In the internship, students are asked to integrate their classroom/academic
knowledge with their experiences in the field, drawing upon their mastery of that
material and their ability to retrieve it sometime later. This book assists students in
the challenging task of learning transfer by reviewing and updating key information
related to core content areas that inevitably are pertinent in the field.
Since a common concern among faculty teaching field courses is how to help
students with learning transfer, this text offers not only specific content that stu-
dents need to draw upon in their internships, but also provides exercises that engage
students in making those connections. These exercises, included in each chapter,
take the student beyond the level of learning content and into critical thinking and
active application of content to their own experiences. In addition, an entire chapter
(Chapter 4) is devoted to issues related to metacognition, acquainting students with
learning styles as they relate to the internship and teaching them a six-step crit-
ical thinking model to use in processing their experiences in their internships and
throughout their careers.
The many exercises in the book have been classified into one of three types:
Personal Reflection: Observation of Self and Others; Synthesis: Linking Knowledge
and Experience; or Analysis. This categorization is an effort to highlight for students
and faculty the nature of the predominant thought processes required by the exercise.
Each chapter includes numerous exercises, but there is no expectation that students
will complete all of the exercises in each chapter. Faculty are encouraged to select
and assign the exercises that will best help their students achieve the learning goals
of their academic program. Faculty also might consider asking students to jot brief
notes in response to some of the exercises while requiring more thorough completion
of others.
Each chapter of the book includes a prompt to stimulate students’ thinking
about an appropriate electronic portfolio entry related to the topics discussed in the
xvi prefAce
chapter and an excerpt of a student entry in response to that prompt is also offered.
Electronic portfolios are explained in some detail in Chapter 1. This feature of the
book is designed to assist both faculty and students in academic programs that use
electronic portfolios to encourage student reflection on their work and/or to assess stu-
dent learning and growth. The use of e-portfolios has become particularly prevalent
in assessing student learning outcomes at or near the end of an academic program. Be-
cause the internship is the capstone experience in many human service programs, it is
a likely point for such assessment. As students have become more comfortable using
electronic media, they often value the building of e-portfolios to highlight their best
work and sometimes use these portfolios in their job searches, even when this is not
required by their academic programs. Each e-portfolio prompt provides an opportu-
nity for students to respond to the topic of the chapter as it relates to their own devel-
opment in the internship. Faculty should, of course, feel free to adapt these prompts
to the assessment processes and desired student learning outcomes of their own aca-
demic programs. Likewise, students who choose to develop portfolios through their
own initiative should see the prompts as possible springboards for that project rather
than as prescriptive assignments.
Philosophy and Approach

to Experiential Learning
The text reflects certain assumptions about experiential education, about the role of
writing in thinking, and about how students learn. The text assumes that while ex-
periential education can be a powerful pedagogical approach, students often need to
learn how to learn most effectively from experience. Although experience can be a
good teacher, at times it may not teach very effectively in and of itself. Without care-
ful thought, analysis, and reflection, students can easily draw erroneous conclusions
and make incorrect inferences based on their experiences, just as they can misread or
misinterpret a text. Experience is a powerful teacher that proves to be more effective
when combined carefully with critical thinking, self-evaluation, and reflection. This
text is designed to keep students engaged in this thinking process throughout their
fieldwork.
Furthermore, the text requires students to “think on paper.” This feature is
based on the premise that writing helps the thinker to think more clearly and pre-
cisely. In each chapter, students express their thoughts in writing in response to spe-
cific exercises. As students’ thoughts are expressed in writing and shared with the
instructor, a fruitful dialogue can be initiated. Through reacting to the student’s writ-
ten work, the instructor has regular opportunities to provide supportive assistance,
corrective feedback, prompts toward further reflection, or other responses that can
enhance the student’s learning.
Finally, the text is based on a philosophy of active, student-centered learning.
Each chapter actively engages students by consistently bringing their experiences
and thoughts into the discussion along with theoretical and academic content. The
inclusion of examples of student work throughout each chapter enlivens the text by
offering concrete examples of student experiences and reflections.
prefAce xvii
Content
The opening chapters of the book address practical matters in beginning the field
experience, focusing on issues such as myths about internships, stages of internship
development, guidelines for successfully completing the internship, development of
a learning agreement (Chapter 1), and getting to know the field placement agency, its
clients, its community, and its sociopolitical context (Chapter 2).
Beyond these initial, obvious entry points, the most advantageous ordering of the
chapters becomes less clear. Therefore, faculty are encouraged to assign the chapters
in the order that best fits their students’ learning needs. For example, students should
be well-grounded in the ethics of the profession before beginning the internship. For
those faculty teaching students who have been well prepared in the classroom on this
topic, they might feel comfortable delving into the content related to ethics later in
the term. But for those faculty whose students might be entering the internship from
academic programs that have not yet emphasized this theme, Chapter 3, Developing
Ethical Competence, should be assigned very early.
Another topic that is considered foundational for many faculty is a focus on how to
learn in the internship. Chapter 4, Learning to Learn from Experience: Understanding
Learning Styles and The Integrative Processing Model, and Chapter 5, Using Supervi-
sion, are dedicated to this goal. Chapter 4 introduces students to important information
about student learning styles and focuses on the cognitive processes involved in learn-
ing from experience. This chapter also introduces students to a six-step model (The
Integrative Processing Model) that they can use in thinking through their experiences
in the field. The model, my original work, provides a useful framework for helping stu-
dents extract maximum learning and personal growth from their experiences. In sum-
mary, this model calls upon students to observe their experiences carefully, reflect on
their personal reactions, identify and apply relevant knowledge, identify dissonance
(i.e., points of discomfort or conflict that might include ethical dilemmas, conflicts be-
tween theoretical points of view, etc.), articulate their learning from the experience,
and make plans for next steps in their work and in their learning. Using the Integrative
Processing Model not only helps students learn more during their fieldwork but also
teaches them a method for thinking through their experiences that can serve them
well throughout their careers. Chapter 5 then broadens this conversation as learning
styles and carefully thinking through field experiences are discussed as key aspects of
supervision. Therefore, both Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 might be assigned as a unit early
in the experience, even before the experience begins, so that students can enter their
field placements with a better understanding of themselves as learners and a better
understanding of how to work with their supervisors productively.
Chapters 6 through 9 deal with key skills that human services professionals must
develop. Chapter 6, Communicating in Your Internship, helps students think care-
fully about the various communication skills they are drawing upon in their intern-
ship experiences as they work with individuals, families, groups, and communities.
Similarly, there are chapters devoted to developing cultural competence (Chapter 7),
preparing oral and written reports (Chapter 8), and self-care skills (Chapter 9) that are
so important for students and beginning professionals to develop in order to ensure
long and productive careers. Since Chapter 9, Taking Care of Yourself, focuses on crit-
ical content to help students manage their stress and their emotions throughout the
internship experience, faculty are encouraged to consider carefully the needs of their
xviii prefAce
particular students in this area. This chapter can and should be assigned earlier in the
experience if the faculty member considers it likely that the students might struggle
with issues such as stress, personal and professional boundaries, and/or safety in their
internships. Chapter 9, although placed toward the end of the book, offers informa-
tion that many students might benefit from accessing either prior to the start of the
internship or very shortly after it begins in order to cope most effectively with the
emotional demands of the experience.
The final chapters of the text move toward providing closure for the student as
the internship draws to a conclusion. Chapter 10 focuses on processes involved in end-
ing the internship, including both evaluation and termination. Chapter 11 assists stu-
dents in making the transition into life after the internship through a focus on career
planning.
As this discussion makes clear, in some cases the chapters in the text have been
ordered in a way that reflects the stages of the internship’s development. Chapters 1
through 5, for example, focus on topics that will help students get a good start in the
internship, whereas Chapters 10 and 11 focus on bringing it to a satisfactory close.
Other chapters, such as Chapter 6, Communicating in Your Internship; Chapter 7, De-
veloping Cultural Competence; Chapter 8, Writing and Reporting Within Your Field
Agency; and Chapter 9, Taking Care of Yourself are perhaps less clear in terms of their
exact timing in the internship experience. In making decisions about how to order the
chapters for maximum effectiveness, instructors are encouraged to consider the spe-
cific challenges students are encountering in their field experiences at a given point in
time. Seizing opportunities when students are ready and eager to examine particular
topics makes the learning offered in the text all the more powerful. As I myself use
the book with my students, I try to remain flexible in how I order the chapters each
semester, observing and listening closely to identify student questions, concerns, and
needs along the way.
Throughout this book, content is included in the form of case studies and
examples of various kinds. This material was inspired by more than 30 years of
experience in working with students, colleagues, and clients in various contexts. In
no case, however, does the book include information drawn directly from any par-
ticular individual’s story. The people with whom I have worked over the years have
provided a rich history upon which to draw, but their struggles and situations appear
in this book in very disguised, composite forms. Names, identities, situations, and
details have been routinely altered to such an extent that no actual person or per-
sons are depicted. Any likeness to the names and circumstances of real people is
strictly coincidental.
References
Kuh, G. D. (2008). High-impact educational practices: What they are, who has access to them, and why
they matter. Washington, DC: AAC&U
Nelson Laird, T. F., Shoup, R., Kuh, G. D., & Schwarz, M. J. (2008). The effects of discipline on
deep approaches to student learning and college outcomes. Research in Higher Education, 49,
469–494.
O’Neill, N. (2010). Internships as high impact practice: Some reflections on quality. Peer
Review, 12(4), 4–8.
prefAce xix
CourseMate
CourseMate Available with the text, Cengage Learning’s CourseMate brings course
concepts to life with interactive learning, study, and exam preparation tools that sup-
port the printed textbook. CourseMate includes an integrated eBook, glossaries, flash-
cards, quizzes, and more—as well as Engagement Tracker, a first-of-its-kind tool that
monitors student engagement in the course.
Acknowledgments
I wish to acknowledge gratefully the contributions of many people who contributed
to the successful creation of this fourth edition, especially my students at Elon
University, who have taught me much of what I know about experiential education.
The staff of PreMediaGlobal also provided excellent assistance in strengthening the
final manuscript and moving the book into production. Finally, I wish to acknowledge
the time and contributions of the following reviewers who made astute and insightful
suggestions, adding significantly to the quality of the finished work: Alisabeth Buck,
Tacoma Community College; Mary Di Giovanni, Northern Essex Community College;
John Hancock, Fitchburg State College; Jeffrey Haber, Metropolitan State College
of Denver; Paul Hand, Anna Maria College; Ed Neukrug, Old Dominion University;
Theresa A. Bowman Downing, Thomas Edison State College; Mary Kay Kreider, St.
Louis Community College–Meramec; Lynn McKinney, University of Rhode Island,
for the first edition. For the second: Kathleen Conway, Wayne State College; Anita
Vaillancourt, University of Northern British Columbia; and Keith Willis, Wayne State
College. For the third edition: Ona Belser, SUNY Plattsburgh; Christine Borzumato-
Gainey, Elon University; Clyde Ibara, Chaminade University; Rita Ruhter, College
of Southern Idaho; and Carla Strassle, York College of Pennsylvania. For the fourth
edition: Ryan Hancock, Northwestern State University; Malik Henfield, University of
Iowa; Diane Hodge, Radford University; Denice Liley, Boise State University; Janet
Mason, College of Lake County; Charles Myers, Northern Illinois University; and
Fedder Williams, South Piedmont Community College.
xx prefAce
Introduction
One of the best ways to learn about human services and prepare yourself for a human
service career is through fieldwork—that is, actually spending time in a human service
agency engaged in its daily work. Most graduates of human service programs report
that their field experiences were among the most important, valuable, and enjoyable
parts of their professional preparation. As a student in a human service program, you
have probably participated in other types of experiential education as well because
learning from experience has always been heavily emphasized in human service edu-
cation. Since human service education began in the 1970s, students have participated
in simulations and case study analysis, group discussions have revolved around stu-
dent field experiences, and extensive fieldwork has been required for degree comple-
tion. The National Standards for Human Service Worker Education and Training (Council
for Standards in Human Service Education and Training [CSHSE], 2013) describes
the field experience as
an environment and context to integrate the knowledge, theory, skills, and pro-
fessional behaviors that are concurrently being taught in the classroom. It must
be an integral part of the education process” a process of experiential learning
that integrates the knowledge, theory, skills, and professional behaviors that are
concurrently being taught in the classroom (CSHSE, 2013, p. 10).
Human service programs vary in the structure of their field component. While all hu-
man service programs emphasize field experiences as critical components of student
preparation, their duration, format, and timing in the overall education program can
vary widely from one program to another. Despite the many variations found among
human service field programs, you will probably find that your department’s program
design includes some combination of the following components:
1. Students engage in fieldwork early in their academic program while en-
rolled in one or more related academic courses. This type of experience is
often referred to as a field practicum or perhaps as a service-learning project.
2. Students engage in fieldwork at approximately the midpoint in the program,
after having studied human service content in traditional academic courses.
Field experience at this point is especially useful as it enables students to
apply their previous theoretical learning to their fieldwork and then return
to course work with greater understanding and insight based on direct expe-
rience in the field.
3. Students engage in fieldwork at or near the end of their academic program.
This experience, often referred to as an internship, serves as a capstone expe-
rience, allowing students the opportunity to apply and test what they have
learned in the classroom, as well as an opportunity to gain new knowledge
and skills.
xxi
Despite the fact that human service students are nurtured and developed within
such a tradition of active, experiential learning throughout their course of study, you
may find that you are approaching your fieldwork with a sense of anxiety, concerned
that you might not be sufficiently prepared. As one student expressed in a first session
of field seminar, “What if I go into my internship and find out I don’t know anything?
What if I fail?” Although this anxiety is an understandable and normal part of starting
a new experience, in most cases there is little basis for this fear in reality. The forego-
ing discussion illustrates that students entering a field experience at any point during
their human service program are not cast into the practice world without knowledge,
information, or preparation for the task at hand.
Perhaps the greatest challenge for students in a human service field experience
is not one of possessing knowledge but one of making use of that knowledge in practical
ways. The field component is intended to be central to your learning, serving as an in-
tegrative experience in which you retrieve your previous learning and apply it to prac-
tice situations. This objective can be quite daunting, especially in view of the broad
curriculum that you have probably studied within your human services program. Con-
tent in human service education covers a wide range of topics and skills, including,
for example, information about special populations and human problems; theories of
human behavior and human development; skills in working with individuals, fami-
lies, groups, and organizations; professional ethics; cultural awareness and skills; and
development of self-awareness. Despite its challenges, your task during your field-
work is to make use of this material (and more), applying it accurately and skillfully
to practice situations that you will encounter day to day. Through your field experi-
ence, your academic learning can come alive and take on new meaning as you see the
connections between the knowledge and skills you have gained in the classroom and
your “real-world” practice experiences while working in a human service agency. This
dynamic connection between the academic and the practical makes fieldwork experi-
ences in human services especially satisfying, interesting, and challenging.
With all of this in mind, the goals of this text are (1) to help you integrate the-
oretical and conceptual information with your experiences in the field, (2) to help
you learn more from your experiences in the field by thinking extensively and care-
fully about those experiences, (3) to facilitate your personal and professional growth
through a focus on self-awareness and critical reflection, and (4) to provide the infor-
mation, structure, and coaching necessary for you to explore the relatively unfamiliar
territory of a fieldwork experience with confidence. Toward these ends, you will find
that the text includes useful information about every stage of the process from begin-
ning the experience (Chapter 1, Getting Started) to ending the experience and mov-
ing on (Chapter 10, Ending Your Internship, and Chapter 11, Planning Your Career).
Each chapter calls upon you to be an active learner, reacting to, applying, and reflect-
ing upon the many ideas discussed. As you work through the material and exercises
in the text, they will guide and support you through the various stages of your field
experience, helping you to seize its opportunities, anticipate and avoid its potential
pitfalls, and extract maximum learning and personal growth from your experiences.
The human service literature uses a variety of labels to refer to field experiences
in human services. The terms practicum, fieldwork, and internship are frequently used
to denote various types of field experiences. Nomenclature varies from program to
program and has been the subject of much discussion in human services programs
xxii introDuction
(Simon, 1999). For the sake of clarity, fieldwork, field experience, and internship are the
terms generally used in this book, and they are used interchangeably.
Now, as we embark on your fieldwork experience together, best wishes to you!
Keep in mind what a privilege it is to be allowed the status of an “insider” within a
professional organization. Be determined to use every opportunity to advance your
learning and development as well as to serve others. These attitudes will set the stage
for an unforgettable and invaluable learning experience.
References
Council on Standards for Human Service Education. (2013). National standards: Baccalaureate de-
gree in human services. Retrieved from http://www.cshse.org/pdfs/Standards-Baccalaureate.pdf
Simon, E. (1999). Field practicum: Standards, criteria, supervision, and evaluation. In H. Harris
& D. Maloney (Eds.), Human services: Contemporary issues and trends (2nd ed., pp. 79–96).
Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
introDuction xxiii
Author Bio
Pamela Myers Kiser holds a BA from Wake Forest University and a MSW from
the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has been a faculty member
in the human service program at Elon University since 1981. At Elon she is the
Watts-Thompson Professor of Human Services and in 2010 was named the fourth
Distinguished University Professor in Elon’s history. She has presented at national
and international conferences on internships and has provided consultation about
internships and service-learning with other colleges and universities both nationally
and internationally.
xxv
Chapter 1
getting Started
If this is your first fieldwork experience, you probably have many questions about
it. You might feel uncertain about what to expect as well as unclear about what is
expected of you. As a result of this ambiguity, you might find that you have some
mixed emotions about doing an internship, ranging from excitement and eagerness
to anxiety or even dread. This chapter will help you to feel more comfortable as you
approach your internship by giving you a clearer idea of what an internship is (and
isn’t) and the types of learning goals it is meant to accomplish. In order to bring the
internship into clearer focus, the chapter offers foundational information about intern-
ships and discusses some guidelines for success as well as some pitfalls to avoid.
A Student’S ReflectionS on PRePARing foR inteRnShiP
I can’t wait to do my internship! I have been looking forward to this for two years.
I must admit that I do have some worries and lots of questions about the intern-
ship, though. For example, how do I go about getting an internship placement?
Once I have a placement, how am I supposed to fit an internship into my life?
I don’t have time for my family and friends even now! What will be expected of
me? Will I be like an employee? A volunteer? How much will I work? All day?
Every day? Will I work the same hours each day? It seems that I have more ques-
tions than answers at this point, but I am looking forward to it anyway. One thing I
do know is that I will get some real-life experience in the field that I hope to work
in after college. I appreciate the opportunity to do that.
So What is an internship?
It can be difficult to form a clear and cohesive picture of what an internship is like,
especially if you have never participated in such an experience before. One factor
that contributes to this difficulty is the fact that internships can take many forms. For
example, in some programs, internships are full-time. Students work full days, five
days per week in their placements, and their curriculum is arranged so that no other
coursework interrupts the day. These internships are generally referred to as “block
placements.” Other programs use “concurrent placements,” meaning that students
perform their internships while also being enrolled in traditional classroom courses. In
these arrangements, students attend their placements on alternating days or establish
other types of part-time schedule arrangements. Most academic programs that pre-
pare students for human service careers require multiple field experiences and these
often vary in length and intensity with the longest and most time-intensive experi-
ences coming at or near the end of the program.
What makes an internship worthy of the name is not how the time is arranged or
whether it is part-time or full-time, but the total amount of time spent in the place-
ment, how that time is used, and the quality of the reflection, application of previous
learning, and other forms of critical thinking that are included in the experience. A
number of factors have come to be identified with high-quality internships. First and
foremost, the internship must be consistent with the student’s academic preparation
and offer experiences consistent with professional expectations and standards in that
field. This situation then allows for the most essential work of internships, that is, the
intentional application of theory to practice in the field (Cunningham & Sherman,
2008; Stichman & Farkas, 2005). Extensive mentoring and supervision for students
through both field supervisors and faculty members is therefore a central feature of
high-quality internships as the teaching role of these experienced and knowledgeable
professionals is key to facilitating students’ integration and application of knowledge
(Conn, Roberts, & Powell, 2009). Seminar courses linked with internships are also
common and are highly beneficial in facilitating this mentoring and application of
theory to practice (Moore, 2013).
A number of definitions of the term “internship” are offered in the literature. As
internships have proliferated in virtually every field of study, the National Associa-
tion of Colleges and Employers (NACE) proposed the following definition to provide
greater clarity about experience:
An internship is a form of experiential learning that integrates knowledge

and theory learned in the classroom with practical application and skills
development in a professional setting. Internships give students the oppor-
tunity to gain valuable applied experience and make connections in profes-
sional fields they are considering for career paths; and give employers the
opportunity to guide and evaluate talent (NACE, 2011).
This definition rightly identifies that students in internships make connections

between the workplace and their classroom learning while exploring a professional
field of interest to them. Similarly, the definition offered by the Council for Standards
in Human Service Education (CSHSE) places emphasis on the integration of theory
and practice as central to the internship experience. Using the terms “fieldwork”
2 Chapter One
and “internship” synonymously, CSHSE (2013) describes the internship in the fol-
lowing way:
Field experience such as a practicum or internship occurs in a human ser-

vices setting. Fieldwork provides an environment and context to integrate
the knowledge, theory, skills, and professional behaviors that are concur-
rently being taught in the classroom. It must be an integral part of the edu-
cation process (p. 10).
The following description is perhaps broad enough to be inclusive of most field

experiences in human services and yet clear enough to be helpful: The human service
internship is an experience in which a student, sponsored by an educational institu-
tion, engages in education and training while working in a human service organization
or role for a substantive period of time under the supervision of an agency staff mem-
ber and a faculty member. The student engages in an ongoing process of observation,
practice, and reflection in order to learn from experience. From so doing, the student
gains new knowledge and skills, applies academic knowledge to practical situations,
refines previously acquired skills, and gains a greater understanding of self and the
human service profession.
To gather more information specifically about human service internships, you
might visit the website for the CSHSE. There you will find suggested parameters and
guidelines for internship experiences that ensure the quality of student learning.
A Student’S ReflectionS on the inteRnShiP
At my internship I am treated as a regular staff member and not as an intern most

of the time. In fact, I sometimes forget that I am still a college student. It’s great to
be treated as an equal and to know that my opinions are valued by others. I have
the same responsibilities as the staff when it comes to dealing with the residents.
As an intern, though, I have been given a broader experience so that I can learn
more. I not only work with the residents but with their families as well, so part
of my day is spent with the family workers. The staff is letting me see the whole
operation and not just one aspect. Best of all, I am gaining confidence every day,
and I’m learning things about myself that I never knew before.
Myths About internships

Because the internship is a unique academic experience, students can begin the expe-
rience with some unrealistic expectations. Under these circumstances, it is inevita-
ble that students will encounter problems, disappointments, and misunderstandings.
Therefore, a helpful step in getting ready for your internship is clearing up common
myths and misconceptions. As with most situations in life, you will experience far
more satisfaction and less frustration if you understand beforehand what is realistic
and unrealistic to expect in the situation.
GettinG Started 3
Myth #1: While Doing My Fieldwork, I Will Learn by Doing and Will Not
Have Assignments and Homework as in Traditional Classes
Although you will no doubt learn by doing, this is not the only manner in which learn-
ing takes place during your fieldwork. Assignments vary from program to program
and from professor to professor, but typically students are required to write and read
extensively during their field placements. Students are generally required to write
reflection papers and/or daily journal entries about their experiences, research papers
about the problems and populations with which they are working, and/or book and
article reviews based on a reading list developed for the internship. Additionally, stu-
dents in most human service internships attend class regularly (often weekly), meet-
ing with other students in a seminar-style setting to discuss their experiences and to
make meaningful connections between those experiences and their academic knowl-
edge. Final grades are usually based on the quality of students’ work in the field site
as well as their work on related papers, presentations, and/or seminar participation.
Myth #2: Doing an Internship Is Like Being a Volunteer

in the Organization
When students have been volunteers before but have not been interns, they some-
times enter their fieldwork agencies assuming that they are more or less one and
the same. Like volunteers, most students are not paid for their work during the field
experience, but the similarity between volunteer work and fieldwork ends here. Vol-
unteers are generally asked to do whatever the agency needs to have done, whether
this is direct work with clients, clerical tasks, or even building and grounds mainte-
nance. In contrast, the central focus of a fieldwork experience is the student’s learning
rather than the agency’s needs. The activities of a student should be identified and
planned based primarily on their educational value. In most field placements, as in
most jobs, the student will perform a variety of tasks, some with greater educational
value than others. A quality field experience, however, will engage the majority of the
student’s time in activities that develop and refine professional knowledge and skills.
If you should find that the majority of your time is being spent on tasks with low edu-
cational value, you should discuss this with your field supervisor and faculty liaison.
A further distinction between a volunteer and an intern is that a greater level of
responsibility is generally expected of an intern. Because interns are preparing for pro-
fessional careers in human services, they are expected to adhere to professional standards
in their work. Professional dress, reliability, promptness, and other characteristics of pro-
fessionals are clearly expected of interns. Volunteers, on the other hand, may be granted
more latitude in such matters. As distinct from volunteers, interns generally enjoy certain
privileges as well. Most interns, for example, have access to client records and participate
in professional-level activities such as staff meetings, case conferences, and in-service
training sessions. Volunteers are not typically included in these types of activities.
Because interns are more committed to long-term engagement in the human
service field than are volunteers, greater attention is generally given to the mentoring
of interns as they develop a sense of professional identity. Interns are guided to reflect
extensively on their experiences and how these relate to their own values, goals, and
sense of self. Both your field supervisor and your faculty supervisor will be attuned
to helping you develop greater professional expertise, competence, and confidence
throughout your internship, all of which will contribute to your development of a
4 Chapter One
more coherent professional identity (Perry, 2012). Such goals and relationships go well
beyond the typical experience of volunteers.
Myth #3: Doing an Internship Is Like Doing a Service-Learning Project

In recent years, service-learning has become a growing trend on college campuses. In
service-learning experiences, students participate in community work that links with
the learning objectives of a particular course. Because all academic disciplines engage
in service-learning, students might participate in service-learning projects in classes
such as history, literature, and biology, as well as in human services classes. Human
service internships are similar to service-learning projects in that there is a focus on
students learning from work in the community.
There are also, however, some distinct differences between these two types of
learning experiences that are worth exploring. Service-learning projects place a strong
emphasis on meeting a community need. While student learning is also a goal, this
goal is balanced with the need to serve the community. In service-learning, there is
also a strong focus on the principle of reciprocity, that is, the community must benefit
as well as the student. In contrast, human service internships are primarily focused
on the student and student learning. While some internships might also provide an
important service to the community, this is not a necessary condition for internships.
Some supervisors and/or agencies, for example, do look to interns to provide a specific
service or to produce a particular “product” during the internship. Therefore, some
internships might appropriately be thought of as service-learning internships while
others might not.
Both types are equally valuable as internships, and students in human service
programs typically have many experiences in which the focus is on service. Learning
to serve is obviously an important goal of all human service programs. Nevertheless,
service to the community is not the primary goal of the internship. In order to prepare
students to perform as professionals, the internship’s primary goal is student learning
and professional development.
Myth #4: If I Do Not Enjoy My Internship, I Must Have Chosen

the Wrong Field Site or the Wrong Career
Just as with classroom courses, some of the most valuable field experiences are those that
are most challenging and push you beyond your comfort zone. In internships, it is nec-
essary to be uncomfortable at times to experience the greatest personal and professional
growth. Enjoyment should not be the measure of your satisfaction with your placement.
Rather, it is more useful to examine how much you are being challenged, both person-
ally and professionally, by the environment and experiences that it has to offer.
It is also fair to say that a single field experience in one organization cannot fully
reflect what working in that field is like. Many factors play into the quality of your
experience as an intern, including the professionalism of the staff, the quality of the
agency’s programs, the organization’s culture and interpersonal dynamics, the nature of
the organization’s relationships with clients and the larger community, and the quality
of the leadership and management of the organization. It is unfortunate when the char-
acteristics of a specific organization lead a student to conclude that an entire field of
service or client population is not for them. If you do not have a positive experience in
GettinG Started 5
your internship, try to sort out for yourself the specific factors that are problematic and
try not to generalize to an entire population of clients or type of organization.
Myth #5: An Internship Is Like an Apprenticeship. I Will Work Under

a Qualified Professional and Learn to Do as He or She Does
An apprentice is generally thought of as an individual who is learning technical skills
from a more experienced and skilled person. Although it is true that you will be work-
ing under an experienced supervisor and will have the opportunity to observe that
supervisor and others as potential role models, the learning involved is more complex
than an apprenticeship implies. Human service work is sometimes described as both
an art and a science (Graybeal, 2007; Gladding, 1992; Young, 2013). This refers to the
fact that although some tasks may follow a clear protocol of how to proceed, many tasks
in human services rely to some extent upon personal style and judgment as to how and
when they are done. Your field experience will require that you observe, analyze, cri-
tique, and evaluate yourself and others. Out of this reflection and synthesis your own
personal style of helping people and working with others will emerge. Although you
will probably emulate various role models as you develop your own approach, the crit-
ical thinking and independence required of a developing human service professional
go well beyond that of an apprentice in fields that are more technical in nature.
Myth #6: Being an Intern Is Like Having a Job so I Will Have the
Responsibilities and Autonomy of a Professional Staff Person
Some students who are beginning internships are already employed in the human ser-
vice field while also pursuing their degrees, or they have been employed in the field in
the past. These students are often quite comfortable on the job, and they are eager to
immerse themselves in that familiar experience again, expecting and hoping that the
internship will be like a job. Other students have not been employed in the field but
have spent a great deal of time in classrooms studying it, and they too are eager to be on
the job, often feeling that they have sat on the sidelines long enough. It is sometimes
frustrating to both groups of students to find that as the internship experience begins
they are often asked to observe others, read related materials, and sit in on meetings in
which they may be able to participate very little. This period is a predictable stage in the
development of the internship. Students need time to become acclimated to the orga-
nization and learn basic procedures and policies. This period also allows the supervisor
and other staff members to become familiar with the intern’s particular capabilities.
As the placement progresses over time, students are typically allowed more
autonomy. The degree of responsibility and autonomy that a given student is allowed
varies considerably depending upon the nature of the agency, liability and legal con-
straints within that agency, the student’s level of maturity and professional skills, and
the field instructor’s supervisory style. Students should not expect to assume the role
of a professional automatically but should recognize that, depending upon the partic-
ular situation, this status may be earned as the field experience progresses. In general,
interns are often not as busy as professional staff, in part because there is less that
they are qualified to do independently. This can be benefical since it is important in
internships to have sufficient time to prepare for new tasks and reflect on experiences.
6 Chapter One
Those interns who already have extensive experience in the human services field
might find the different pace of the internship to be particularly frustrating or uncom-
fortable, especially if their internship is in the same agency in which they are employed.
Interns in this situation are generally assigned new responsibilities, new learning goals,
and a new set of challenges. Despite their eagerness to dive into a job, these interns
too can benefit from the space and time that most internships allow for closer observa-
tion, reflection, and intentionality in the learning process. They can be short-changed
if they are allowed to slip into treating their internship as simply “another job.”
Myth #7: For My Fieldwork to Be Most Useful, It Should Be in the Same

Type of Job I Would Like to Find After Graduation
Although this statement seems to be common sense, it is not always true. While it is impor-
tant to keep your career goal in view, it is often not possible or even advisable to enter a
field placement in your desired position. There are usually a number of developmental
steps to be taken to achieve professional competence in a given role. Your fieldwork can
often best be used to help you achieve one or even several of these developmental steps.
For example, a student who was interested in becoming a family counselor was
disappointed to find that she could not secure a placement in this field due to concerns
of privacy and confidentiality, as well as her level of training. In her human service
program, three field experiences were required. For these three opportunities, she was
placed in a preschool childcare center, a battered women’s shelter, and a group home
for children with emotional and behavioral issues. Although none of these settings
offered her the exact role to which she aspired, each of them contributed knowledge
and skills that were important to her overall preparation for the role of family counselor.
Myth #8: Everyone Gets an “A” in the Internship

Grades in fieldwork courses often follow a distribution more similar to classroom
courses than many students expect. As discussed under Myth #1, a number of differ-
ent types of assignments are factored into the internship grade. Also, there is often
wide variance in student performance levels in the field sites, ranging from students
who perform exceptionally well to those who perform adequately to those who per-
form below average or even unsatisfactorily.
Before arriving for the first day of your internship, read the course syllabus care-
fully in order to understand the various assignments and requirements of your field-
work experience and how the different components will be weighted in assigning
your final grade. Also, pay special attention to the items on the evaluation instrument
that your field supervisor will use to assess your learning and performance. Becoming
familiar with these documents will clarify the exact expectations and standards that
you need to meet in order to earn a grade that you can be proud of.
Myth #9: My Fieldwork Will Probably Lead to a Job

in That Organization
Although some internships do extend directly into employment for the student in
the host organization, this outcome is more the exception than the rule. Nevertheless,
GettinG Started 7
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI
Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)
The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.
NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA
I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.
MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]
MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY
With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
“We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
BRAZIER
Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT
SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB
CUTTING THE EDGE

FINISHING THE BOTTOM
LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING
FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE
TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL
NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK
DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG
REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

BEATING THE BARK
WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT
MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN

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The Human Services Internship:

Getting the Most from Your Experience

Getting to Know Your Agency 38

Developing Ethical Competence 75

Learning to Learn from Experience: Understanding

Understanding Your Preferred Learning Style 109

Using Supervision 137

Understanding the Supervisory Relationship 138

Communicating in Your Internship 157

The Basic Skills 157

Developing Cultural Competence 199

Writing and Reporting Within Your Field Agency 227

Writing in Human Service Settings 228

Taking Care of Yourself 253

Developing Self-Awareness 254

Ending Your Internship 287

Evaluating Your Performance 288

Planning Your Career 313

Ethical Standards for Human Service Professionals 341

New to This Edition

Features from Previous Editions

Philosophy and Approach

A Student’S ReflectionS on PRePARing foR inteRnShiP

An internship is a form of experiential learning that integrates knowledge

This definition rightly identifies that students in internships make connections

Field experience such as a practicum or internship occurs in a human ser-

The following description is perhaps broad enough to be inclusive of most field

A Student’S ReflectionS on the inteRnShiP

At my internship I am treated as a regular staff member and not as an intern most

Myths About internships

Myth #2: Doing an Internship Is Like Being a Volunteer

Myth #3: Doing an Internship Is Like Doing a Service-Learning Project

Myth #4: If I Do Not Enjoy My Internship, I Must Have Chosen

Myth #5: An Internship Is Like an Apprenticeship. I Will Work Under

Myth #7: For My Fieldwork to Be Most Useful, It Should Be in the Same

Myth #8: Everyone Gets an “A” in the Internship

Myth #9: My Fieldwork Will Probably Lead to a Job

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

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