I called him to tell him that I was going out of town for work. He met the car, a small minibus full of travelers, which was sitting parked on the side of the road in the center of town. The midafternoon sun meant that the streets and shops were busy, full of people shopping, working, and sitting gathered in small groups in the shade of trees and shopfronts. I was sitting in the back seat on the driver's side when he arrived. He climbed in the driver's door, stuck his head and shoulder around the seat, and placed a stack of folded money in my hand. He told me to use the money to buy phone units and call him while I was away. I thanked him but was embarrassed. I knew that everyone in the car had seen what he had done. I knew they would see him giving me the money as a sign of intimacy, an exchange that normally takes place between a man and his girlfriend.

Sitting here today, my phone rings. I look over and see that it is him, but I do not answer. I’ve been avoiding his calls since I returned to Fielmua a few weeks ago. I don't feel that I can explain my need to remain distant, to untangle myself from our relationship. I don't think that I can clearly express my need to be free from his controlling regulation, the arguing, and the shadow that he casts over my daily life here. And so, I ignore the call, knowing that he will assume that I have perhaps met someone else, someone who will not permit me to see him. This is the reason that will satisfy him, the only one that will square up to his internal logic. But even knowing this, I can be sure that my distance has caused him some shame, and for that I am sorry.

In this opening vignette I recall a brief ethnographic moment that highlights how relationships are performed under the gaze of a culturally informed viewership. The exchange that took place in this moment opens up layers of ethnographic knowledge. Like ripples in a pond, one moment tells us about the performance of intimacy, the political economy of sex, and cross-gender public interactions.