New ways of growing vegetables, for instance tomatoes under plastic, led to new marketable resources. Most important was the devastating effect of the Iraq-Iran war, and the lives it had claimed from these communities. For those ethnoarchaeologists interested in problems of change and continuity this was a dramatic and intensely revealing time.
In 1968, at the beginning of this ethnoarchaeological study, the majority of the local inhabitants were isolated from mainstream Iraq. Few of them visited any place other than the local market town of Shatra, and they clearly resisted outside influences in their daily lives. By 1990 when the expedition’s work concluded, only a few men over the age of 16 had not visited Nasiriya, the provincial capital, as well as Shatra, and no small few had been to Baghdad in the north (a 6-8 hour trip by bus from Shatra) and Basra in the south (a 4-5 hour trip by bus from nearby Nasiriya).
* For the reality behind this story see Pournelle, “Marshland of Cities,” 235-36.
† See also Gavin Young and N. Wheeler, “Water Dwellers in a Desert World,” National Geographic 149, 4 (1976): 502–23; “The Folk that Live in the Marshes,” Observer Magazine May 22 (1977): 30–43; and Return to the Marshes (London: William Collins, 1977).
3
WAYS AND MEANS
The research plan for this study had to be simple and flexible, for no set time period could be allotted to these studies, and the excavations at al-Hiba had to be the first concern. Holidays, days when rain or mud made the site unworkable, and evenings were available. At other times I participated in the daily digging and dealt with the ancient pottery recovered from the excavations. From time to time two or three consecutive days could be arranged, especially when staff members made group visits to other sites. It was also possible to set aside a few days before the excavations began and after they were finished.
I wanted to know how local craftspeople gathered their raw materials, how they modified or prepared these raw materials for use, what kinds of artifacts were then made and the details of their construction, their function or functions, their longevity, and how they were disposed of when they were abandoned or no longer usable. Two other elements were important: one was the variation in an artifact’s form or function based on tribal or village contexts; the other was the change that took place in any aspect of an artifact’s life cycle and the reason or reasons for that change. I focused on major, locally obtainable, raw material resources that had been available to ancient people who lived in this area: mud or clay, reeds, wood, and bitumen. I added sheep, cattle, and water buffalo to our study. In order to avoid confusion, I investigated each resource separately. For instance, only when I had completely finished collecting information about mud would I begin asking questions about reeds. As a result, a number of procedures, for example the use of reeds in mud construction, were documented twice: once when studying reeds and again when studying mud construction.
I will introduce each subject with a description of what I learned about these materials and their usage in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Then I will present a short section on the changes I noticed in individual artifacts or groups of artifacts during the 22 years of our investigation and why these changes occurred. Finally I will try to indicate the impact this information can have on our knowledge of the past.
Good Manners
Accompanied by Mohammed al Dukkhan, our mound guard and my guide, I would visit a village or settlement. Inevitably the villagers knew of my pending visit. As their laws of hospitality demanded, we were invited for coffee, tea, or both in a mudhif maintained by the local sheikh or his followers, or in one or more village homes or Bedouin tents (see p.145–9). Inevitably we were asked to stay for a meal. We tried not to inconvenience anyone by accepting, but sometimes it was impossible to refuse the invitation. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, when few families had enough food to keep them from hunger, the burden of extra mouths to feed had serious consequences. Nevertheless, hospitality was considered an important manifestation of generosity, and generosity was a major requirement of family honor (see p.17). No matter how destitute a family, they always tried to provide some help for those worse off than themselves. Women prepared more than the family needed, even if the main course was boiled greens, lest some hungry stranger wander by at mealtime.
Accepting an invitation for tea, coffee, or food was an obligation to eat or drink whatever you were offered. To do otherwise was to insult your host. Some visitors thought they could beg off food they considered unpleasant, like a chunk of fat from the tail of a fat-tailed sheep, by claiming vegetarianism. If this were not true and the visitor later ate any meat during his or her stay in the area, it became immediate village gossip and both the host and his village were dishonored by this visible rejection of their hospitality. The visitor was never believed again. It was also considered ill manners to eat in one house and then accept another invitation for the same meal or to eat in the village and return to your camp for an additional meal or snack. This double dipping broadcast to the community that you had found the hospitality of your first host inadequate and was considered a grave insult. I remember with great embarrassment an incident when I took a fellow excavator to drink coffee with the Bedouin. He asked for boiling water and used it to clean the communal coffee cup before drinking from it. This extra-hygienic flourish, offensive both to his host and the assembled guests, was fortunately considered so outrageous that it eventually became a community joke.
Such finicky behavior would rightly be destructive to one’s reputation with people of the village. Nor was there any reason for it. If, for instance, you were served the gelatinous eye of a sheep plucked from the socket of the cooked beast you could force yourself to swallow it in spite of the determined resistance of your esophagus.
All sorts of noises, some of which are considered bad manners elsewhere, are permitted at dinner. Belching, smacking your lips, making loud sucking or chomping noises with your mouth show that you relish the food and can be used as cover during the contest between your will and your stomach.
Because foreigners were unusual in these villages and camps, almost all village men would soon join us at our host’s to drink tea, talk, and ask questions. This initial encounter could be time consuming, sometimes lasting three or four hours. It took less time in small villages than in larger ones because of the number of people present, for it was essential to the honor of our hosts that they follow the rules of hospitality precisely. Only after every rule had been observed and every person present been given the opportunity to welcome me and ask their questions could I ask mine. Everyone was eager to be helpful, and often arguments would break out over exactly how something I was inquiring about was done, how something was used, how much it cost, and so on. I collected information, even that which was contradictory. When everyone had finished their say on the subject, I tried to identify people in the village who had actually made or used each item, and then I would make appointments to return and watch the artifact’s manufacture and use. Often this meant returning to the same village several times while investigating a single class of objects, because I tried to watch everyone regularly involved perform the process from beginning to end.
Careful Observation
I must emphasize the importance of the visual aspect of ethnoarchaeology. Only repeated, concentrated observation over long periods of time helps us escape a variety of pitfalls: our own preconceptions; the multitudinous snares of relying on biased, ignorant, or culture-protective informants; the danger of questionnaires, which can be intentionally or accidentally designed to elicit what the designers predetermine they want to hear; or the formulation rather than sampling of opinion.
How we see things depends on our point of view. Our preconceptions arise from our own cultural bias and what we have read or
