#009: Fieldnotes, Khonkho. 06/23/06
Friday
First day going out to the site as “the anthropologist.” Workers seemed happy on their first day of work, eager to put shovels to soil. They weren’t excavating today, just clearing the pits of fill from last year, being the dirt which the archaeologists use at the end of each season to cover up the non-extractable findings (building foundations, canals), protect them from weather and wear. It was a lot of digging and heaving, plopping earth into buckets, but the work wasn’t too strenuous to prevent some sporadic, light conversation and jokes, all in Aymara.
Figuring out how to conduct myself in this situation was tricky at first, especially with none of my archaeologist friends there. I asked one of the Bolivian archaeologists before she left whether my presence would be seen as weird or distracting, or whether she should say something to the workers, introduce me. She assured me that it was fine, that they’re used to being watched. There are anthropologists there pretty much every year asking them questions, she said. I asked her what I should do there, could I help out in some way, make myself useful? She told me that if I really wanted to make a good impression with the workers, I could take care of the wawa, or baby. One of the women, a mallkuteka (mallku’s wife), had brought her one year-old to work and sat him down near the excavation pit on a blanket. He kept crying and fussing, forcing her to leave the pit every five minutes or so to tend to him. I walked over towards the two and offered my help. The mom went back to digging, so I kept the baby company, giving him my Spanish mini-dictionary to play with, and showing him how to draw on big rocks with little rocks. He liked that a lot. The mom then came over, smiling to see me playing with the baby, but a little too shy, it seemed, to talk to me. She liked my dictionary, at least. Asked me if it’s “para aprender” (for learning)? I nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to learn Spanish!” I said, in Spanish.
At around 3:15 in the afternoon, everybody put down their picks and shovels and sat down beside the pits, men and women sitting in separate clumps. Someone told me its time for aculli, the customary coca-chewing break. Good opportunity to talk. I sat with the women and introduced myself, tried to strike up a conversation. Two out of the four or five were receptive, introduced themselves, seemed eager to chat and learn about me. They asked about where I’m from, what kind of food we eat there, and whether my parents are sad that I’m here? No, I said, my parents are happy for me, because they’re learning about Bolivia because of my trip. I asked them how the work at the site is going; good, they said. I told them I am an anthropologist, interested in observing the excavation and talking to the workers, seeing how people learn from it. I asked what they were excavating and got a short answer from one woman about clearing the fill out. I asked about the Solstice, why it happened at the site – no answer. One lady asked whether I liked the festival – I said I did, very much. They liked my dictionary, took it in their hands and giggled at it. Giggled at lots of things, and mumbled things in Aymara, especially after asking me questions in Spanish and hearing my standard response - “what?” - a few times to make sure I understood. I wasn’t sure what their laughter meant, exactly, so I just laughed along every time.
06-24-06 Sat.
At site: New unit being excavated today, led by A., one of the grad students. I watched A. joined two workers in sprinkling a bottle of puro on the ground before digging – the word for it is “ch’allar,” making an offering. At A.’s suggestion, I walked over to one worker – the maestro or leader of the group – with a bag of dulces (sweet hard candies) as an excuse to strike up a conversation, and asked why they ch’allar … he told me (through another grad student who translates) that it’s for good luck, so that they find walls, llama fetuses, human burials, cooking areas. The grad student explained that, in archaeology, at least, these are called focal points, central findings, because they can tell you so much about the rest of a site, the way people there lived and died. I asked the worker why they wanted to find these things. He responded that if they just found dirt (“suello” or “tierra”) it would be a waste of man hours.
06-25-06 Sun.
The cooks are off today, so we (the grad students and I) cooked for ourselves. The project directors were off in La Paz. We made a stir fry with all the vegetables that the cooks don’t how to use and have left to gather dust on the shelves – bell peppers, broccoli, string beans. I constructed a salad with spinach, avocado, and apple slices and someone else whips up a mustard vinaigrette. It was so unexpectedly wonderful to eat food that actually contains flavor; quite a change from the dishes we typically get, involving quinoa soup and some combination of rice, pasta and potatoes, maybe a fried egg.
The rest of the day was lazy, mostly. I missed my romantic college-ness, so I decided to lay out on the straw field behind camp with some Walt Whitman and look for pictures in the clouds. Little did I know that, like most of the fields around here, this one was populated with paja grass needles, sharp-as-hell little seed spindlies that love to embed themselves in every layer of clothing you’re wearing. I spent all afternoon picking the goddamn things out of my fleece with a tweezer.
First day going out to the site as “the anthropologist.” Workers seemed happy on their first day of work, eager to put shovels to soil. They weren’t excavating today, just clearing the pits of fill from last year, being the dirt which the archaeologists use at the end of each season to cover up the non-extractable findings (building foundations, canals), protect them from weather and wear. It was a lot of digging and heaving, plopping earth into buckets, but the work wasn’t too strenuous to prevent some sporadic, light conversation and jokes, all in Aymara.
Figuring out how to conduct myself in this situation was tricky at first, especially with none of my archaeologist friends there. I asked one of the Bolivian archaeologists before she left whether my presence would be seen as weird or distracting, or whether she should say something to the workers, introduce me. She assured me that it was fine, that they’re used to being watched. There are anthropologists there pretty much every year asking them questions, she said. I asked her what I should do there, could I help out in some way, make myself useful? She told me that if I really wanted to make a good impression with the workers, I could take care of the wawa, or baby. One of the women, a mallkuteka (mallku’s wife), had brought her one year-old to work and sat him down near the excavation pit on a blanket. He kept crying and fussing, forcing her to leave the pit every five minutes or so to tend to him. I walked over towards the two and offered my help. The mom went back to digging, so I kept the baby company, giving him my Spanish mini-dictionary to play with, and showing him how to draw on big rocks with little rocks. He liked that a lot. The mom then came over, smiling to see me playing with the baby, but a little too shy, it seemed, to talk to me. She liked my dictionary, at least. Asked me if it’s “para aprender” (for learning)? I nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to learn Spanish!” I said, in Spanish.
At around 3:15 in the afternoon, everybody put down their picks and shovels and sat down beside the pits, men and women sitting in separate clumps. Someone told me its time for aculli, the customary coca-chewing break. Good opportunity to talk. I sat with the women and introduced myself, tried to strike up a conversation. Two out of the four or five were receptive, introduced themselves, seemed eager to chat and learn about me. They asked about where I’m from, what kind of food we eat there, and whether my parents are sad that I’m here? No, I said, my parents are happy for me, because they’re learning about Bolivia because of my trip. I asked them how the work at the site is going; good, they said. I told them I am an anthropologist, interested in observing the excavation and talking to the workers, seeing how people learn from it. I asked what they were excavating and got a short answer from one woman about clearing the fill out. I asked about the Solstice, why it happened at the site – no answer. One lady asked whether I liked the festival – I said I did, very much. They liked my dictionary, took it in their hands and giggled at it. Giggled at lots of things, and mumbled things in Aymara, especially after asking me questions in Spanish and hearing my standard response - “what?” - a few times to make sure I understood. I wasn’t sure what their laughter meant, exactly, so I just laughed along every time.
06-24-06 Sat.
At site: New unit being excavated today, led by A., one of the grad students. I watched A. joined two workers in sprinkling a bottle of puro on the ground before digging – the word for it is “ch’allar,” making an offering. At A.’s suggestion, I walked over to one worker – the maestro or leader of the group – with a bag of dulces (sweet hard candies) as an excuse to strike up a conversation, and asked why they ch’allar … he told me (through another grad student who translates) that it’s for good luck, so that they find walls, llama fetuses, human burials, cooking areas. The grad student explained that, in archaeology, at least, these are called focal points, central findings, because they can tell you so much about the rest of a site, the way people there lived and died. I asked the worker why they wanted to find these things. He responded that if they just found dirt (“suello” or “tierra”) it would be a waste of man hours.
06-25-06 Sun.
The cooks are off today, so we (the grad students and I) cooked for ourselves. The project directors were off in La Paz. We made a stir fry with all the vegetables that the cooks don’t how to use and have left to gather dust on the shelves – bell peppers, broccoli, string beans. I constructed a salad with spinach, avocado, and apple slices and someone else whips up a mustard vinaigrette. It was so unexpectedly wonderful to eat food that actually contains flavor; quite a change from the dishes we typically get, involving quinoa soup and some combination of rice, pasta and potatoes, maybe a fried egg.
The rest of the day was lazy, mostly. I missed my romantic college-ness, so I decided to lay out on the straw field behind camp with some Walt Whitman and look for pictures in the clouds. Little did I know that, like most of the fields around here, this one was populated with paja grass needles, sharp-as-hell little seed spindlies that love to embed themselves in every layer of clothing you’re wearing. I spent all afternoon picking the goddamn things out of my fleece with a tweezer.
posted by kazmira at 6:48 PM
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