#019: Fieldnotes, Khonkho Wankane (The Blues). 07/05/06

Wednesday

4:42 pm

Woke up 9:30 am; hard to get out of bed. Had breakfast and hung around, a little dazed, until leaving for site with the cook at 11:30. Arrived and hung out a bit at different units until lunch time. A group of three worker-friends of mine invited me to dine with them on their picnic blankets. I graciously nibbled on the potato, meat strips and cheese chunks they kept handing to me, and they asked about how much a plan ticket costs from U.S. (got asked that twice today. After lunch and nap with the archaeologists, wandered around the rest of the afternoon, chatting with various people but not getting any interviews. It’s hard today – I feel awkward and tired and completely don’t know how to approach them, even with simple history-related questions. I often give them a vague window and wait for them to come through it to me, but they don’t. I have to pry, and withstand century-long silences in which I try to figure out what to say next. It’s arduous and draining and it sucks.

Walked around with camera - just planned on taking pix of excavation itself, but it turned out to be a great icebreaker in my discussions with workers. Everyone asked right away for the picture – “when are you going to bring it to me?” – and I told them all tomorrow, realizing later that I don’t yet have the photo paper to print them on. When I took their pictures almost everyone posed with their tools – a shovel, a trowel – and didn’t smile, just looked solemn and proud. All seemed pretty excited about the photos, having them taken and then looking at them in viewfinder. A few people asked how much the camera cost - $200, I say. Can’t remember if that’s right. I figure that giving the photos back to them will be a good opportunity to ask them to tell me a bit about history. The ethnographic exchange reversed, I guess, if not initiated.

After taking a bunch of photos at people’s request, I returned to the worker from yesterday (F____) and asked him if he had any more histories. “Mañana,” he said. “I have to think some more.” The grad student (A___) working with him tells me later that he heard from F____ this morning a story about the Inca, and landscape, and the origins of Ilimani and the other big mountains. The grad student asks F___ at the end of the workday if he could retell the story for me and, thankfully, he does - in Castellano first, then Aymara, then more in Castellano. I have trouble understanding everything so I don’t have many questions – I wish I had asked the grad student to translate during the story.

Good talk with A___ earlier about my project, and he says the director/Professor may want to put a chapter in a book, published for the community, about the history of the site as told by Khonkho folks (Khonkhinos)…just something simple. To be published here in Bolivia by end of year. We talk about how little time there is – hopefully I’ll be finished/have enough by early August. At least there are some books you can read about the topic, he says: Inca, even Maya origin myths…historiography…also strongly suggests reading Abercrombie, 1986: Pathways of Memory and Power.

Feeling so sad tonight, little heart all blue. Missing home, I think, and affection. Not sure what it is I’m doing here – feels silly, ultimately, being here, away from my home and the things and people I love…just so that I can be able to make a point about something that isn’t even close to my heart in any way. Just, looking for....something.

One of the grad students is playing a CD right now from a gospel blues singer lady, which makes me feel better. Strength, she's telling me, so much strength. “Jesus knows I have a weakness…”