Sami Kassel, who just graduated with a degree in Anthropology from Boston University and joins us at the Kashevaroff excavation, takes us deeper into the Ethnography of an Archaeologist.
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After edging around a scurrying river, traipsing through a marshy field, and nimbly avoiding any bears that may be lurking in the bushes, one may stumble across the Archaeol tribe, a small yet vibrant community nestled on the side of Kashevaroff mountain in a remote region of Kodiak, Alaska.
The Archaeols can be easily identified by their traditional garb: sturdy, dark boots, which allow them to easily scale mountains of dirt or wade through streams; soft fabrics layered close to their bodies, which can be rearranged in response to changing weather; and thick overalls made from a slick material, brightly colored under layers of mud and ash. This discoloration marks the experience and status of the wearer; the more caked-on the dirt and wrinkled the fabric of one’s overalls, the more deference they are accorded. Clean garments are disdained, and newcomers to the community will quickly scramble to sully their clothes. This grime spreads to the Archaeols’ faces and hands—any exposed skin—and dirt settles in their hair and fills the creases around their eyes. They seem not to notice, or mind, when the soil finds its way to their food, or to the mouths of their water containers. In fact, so contrary to the expectations of any visitor who may be arriving from the neighboring town, where native households contain shrines dedicated to the ritual cleansing and purification of their bodies [see Miner, Body Rituals among the Nacirema], dirt seems to be the absolute and sole focus of the Archaeols’ lives.
Every man and woman above the age of fourteen spends nearly every waking hour immersed in the soil. With crude and often broken tools, they burrow into the earth, slowly and carefully creating massive pits. These trenches are called sayts, and are created so that the Archaeols may be truly surrounded by the earth. Centimeter by centimeter they scrape away the ground below their knees, taking care to interact with and honor each small layer. Even when the sayts are so deep that an Archaeol may sit on the bottom and no longer feel the breeze as it passes through the air, they continue to dig. It is clear that for the Archaeols, there is no greater joy than working with the dirt.
Archaeols working with dirt, the most prized pastime
When an Archaeol comes across a stone, they usually toss it aside, disgruntled that their connection to the dirt has been interrupted. They may even lick the stone before it is discarded, so that not a single grain of precious soil may be squandered. Occasionally, an Archaeol will encounter a particularly offensive rock, which they refer to as an artufakt. In a fit of rage, the Archaeol will shout and scream to call the attention of the rest of the group. Other Archaeols will inspect the intrusive stone, and shriek to express their disgust. With great care to avoid extensive contact with the artufakt, an Archaeol will place it in a sealed bag, which has been marked with symbols indicating the area of dirt which was contaminated by the stone. The artufakt is then taken far away from the sayt, to be kept in a sealed drawer or behind thick glass, so as to prevent any chance of future contamination between the offending rock and the Archaeols’ cherished dirt.
Despite my many observations, the significance of the dirt still remains unclear. I hope to gain more insight on my next field project.