Images of the Past 7th Edition, (Ebook

PDF)
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/images-of-the-past-7th-edition-ebook-pdf/
CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR
The Hunters 99 The Origins
of Agriculture 179
Introduction The Rise of Homo sapiens 99
CONCEPT The Origins of Language 103 Introduction The First Farmers 179
SITE The Klasies River Mouth Caves 105 CONCEPT Explaining the Origins
of Agriculture 185
CONCEPT Modern and Ancient DNA 108
SITE ’Ain Mallaha 189
SITE The Valley of the Neanderthals 111
CONCEPT Wheat, Barley, Pigs, Goats,
CONCEPT The Fate of the Neanderthals 115
and Sheep 191
CONCEPT The Upper Paleolithic 117
CONCEPT New Evidence 194
SITE Dolni Vestonice 121
SITE Göbekli Tepe, Turkey 195
SITE The Cave of Lascaux 124
SITE Abu Hureyra 196
CONCEPT Portable Art 130
CONCEPT Archaeobotany 200
CONCEPT Symbols and Notation 132
SITE Jericho 203
SITE Lake Mungo, Australia 134
CONCEPT Archaeozoology 206
CONCEPT The Peopling of the Pacific 136
SITE Çatalhöyük 209
CONCEPT Radiocarbon Dating 137
SITE Mehrgarh 214
CONCEPT The Peopling of the Americas 139
CONCEPT Pottery 216
SITE Monte Verde 143
SITE Ban-po-ts’un 218
SITE Kennewick Man 146
CONCEPT Rice 221
CONCEPT Pleistocene Extinction 147
SITE Khok Phanom Di 222
Images and Ideas The End
SITE Guilá Naquitz Cave 225
of the Paleolithic 149
CONCEPT Zea mays 228
CONCEPT Postglacial Foragers 151
SITE Tehuacán 232
CONCEPT The Postglacial Environment
of Europe 154 SITE Guitarrero Cave 236

SITE Vedbæk 156 CONCEPT Agriculture in

Native North America 240
CONCEPT Bone Chemistry and
Prehistoric Subsistence 162 CONCEPT Breast-Feeding and Birth Spacing 242

SITE Carrier Mills 165 Images and Ideas The Spread

of Agriculture 244
CONCEPT The Human Skeleton 170
CONCEPT Contemporary Hunter-Gatherers 172
Images and Ideas The World
of Hunter-Gatherers 174

Contents vii
 CONCEPT The Olmec Horizon 317
SITE El Mirador 319
CONCEPT Carved Stones and Early Writing 323
SITE Monte Albán 324
CHAPTER FIVE CONCEPT Settlement Pattern Surveys 329
Native North Americans 249 SITE Teotihuacan 331
CONCEPT The Mesoamerican Ballgame 338
Introduction The Diversity SITE Tikal 339
of Native American Life 249 CONCEPT Tikal’s Monument Record 343
SITE Poverty Point 254 CONCEPT Wetland Fields 345
SITE Hopewell 258 SITE Palenque 347
CONCEPT The Archaeology of Exchange 263 CONCEPT Writing and Calendars 351
SITE Cahokia 265 SITE Tula 353
CONCEPT Monumental Architecture 269 SITE Chichén Itzá 356
SITE Moundville 271 SITE Tenochtitlán 360
CONCEPT Grave Offerings 275 CONCEPT Aztec Markets 365
SITE The Draper Site 277 CONCEPT Human Sacrifice and Cannibalism 366
SITE Snaketown 281 Images and Ideas The End of Prehispanic
CONCEPT Studying Community Plan Civilizations in Mexico 368
at Snaketown 286
SITE Chaco Canyon 287
SITE Ozette 292
CONCEPT Chiefs 296
Images and Ideas The Clash
of Worlds 298
CHAPTER SEVEN
South America: The Inca
and Their Predecessors 373

Introduction Prehispanic South America 373

SITE El Paraíso 377
CHAPTER SIX
CONCEPT The Maritime Hypothesis 381
Ancient Mesoamerica 303 SITE Chavín de Huántar 382
CONCEPT The Textiles of Paracas 386
Introduction Early State Development SITE Moche 387
in Mesoamerica 303
CONCEPT The Nazca Geoglyphs 392
SITE San José Mogote 308
SITE Sipán 393
CONCEPT Nonresidential Architecture 311
SITE Tiwanaku and Wari 397
SITE San Lorenzo and La Venta 313

viii Contents
SITE Chan Chan 401
SITE Cuzco and Machu Picchu 405
CONCEPT Inca Highways 409
SITE Huánuco Pampa 411
Images and Ideas The Organization CHAPTER NINE
of State Society 415 Prehistoric Europe 489

Introduction From the First Farmers

to the Roman Empire 489
SITE Franchthi Cave 493
SITE Varna 495

CHAPTER EIGHT CONCEPT The Iceman 498

SITE Charavines 502
States and Empires
in Asia and Africa 419 CONCEPT The Megaliths of Western Europe 506
SITE Stonehenge 510
CONCEPT The Aegean Bronze Age 514
Introduction Asia and Africa After
the Transition to Agriculture 419 SITE Knossos 517

SITE Eridu 423 SITE Mycenae 520

CONCEPT Temples 427 CONCEPT The Bronze Age North of the Alps 524

SITE Uruk 428 SITE Borum Eshøj 526

CONCEPT Early Writing Systems 433 SITE Vix 529

SITE Harappa and Mohenjo-daro 436 CONCEPT The Bog People 532

CONCEPT Economic Specialization 442 SITE Maiden Castle 534

SITE Hierakonpolis 444 Images and Ideas Lessons from

Prehistoric Europe 537
CONCEPT The Cemetery at Hierakonpolis 449
SITE Giza and Dynastic Egypt 450
CONCEPT Pyramids 455
SITE An-yang 457
CONCEPT The Roots of Chinese Cuisine 462
SITE Xianyang 464
SITE Angkor 470
SITE Jenné-jeno 474
SITE Great Zimbabwe 478
Images and Ideas Theories of
State Development 483

Contents ix
 Kennewick Man 550
ETHICS IN ARCHAEOLOGY 551
THE RESPONSIBLE ARCHAEOLOGIST 551
CAREERS IN ARCHAEOLOGY 554
CHAPTER TEN
Images and Ideas The End 556
The Past as Present and Future 543

Introduction The Past as Present APPENDIX: Common Measurement

Conversions and Equivalents 558
and Future 543
GLOSSARY G-1
THE VALUE OF THE PAST 543
REFERENCES R-1
THE HERITAGE OF THE PAST 545
CREDITS C-1
WHO OWNS THE PAST? 546
INDEX I-1
U.S. LEGISLATION AND ARCHAEOLOGY 549

x Contents
<
Preface
mages of the Past is an introduction to prehistoric ar-
I chaeology that aims to capture the excitement and vi-
sual splendor of archaeology while providing insight into
current research methods, interpretations, and theories in
the field. To introduce our text, we offer some back-
ground on why we wrote the book, describe its organiza-
tion and distinctive features, indicate what is new in this
edition, provide some information on the various supple-
ments, and, finally, acknowledge all those individuals
and institutions that have contributed to Images of
the Past.
WHY WE WROTE THIS BOOK
Perhaps a short history of our own teaching experience
and the motivation for this volume will help convey our
intent. Images is the result of a combined total of more than
50 years of teaching archaeology. Some years ago, when
our introductory archaeology curriculum was revamped
with an advanced section for majors and a beginning
course for other students, we decided to make interesting
archaeological sites the focus of a survey of world prehis-
tory. We would discuss a series of sites from the Pliocene
(now Miocene!) to the present that reflected archaeologi-
cal knowledge about the past and how that information
was obtained. The emphasis on sites allowed us to cover
time and space and certain methods and theories, as well
as provide a general survey of world prehistory. Students
generally enjoyed the course and completed the semester
with a broad understanding of archaeology, the major
questions in the discipline, and the ways that archaeolo-
gists think about the past.
But we were generally dissatisfied with the texts
that were available for this introductory archaeology
course. A number of introductory books on the subject al-
ready existed, of course. Such volumes generally took
one of two directions: They provided either a comprehen-
sive survey of world prehistory or a primer on method
and theory. Back then, and still today, surveys of world
archaeology summarized what archaeologists had
learned, but they often tended to be rather dry encyclo-
pedias of information on the many places and times that
people lived in, in the past. That vast body of data is for-
midable to beginning students, and they have trouble
discerning what is really important. Primers on method
and theory, on the other hand, were compilations of the
history, techniques, concepts, and principles of archaeol-
ogy: how to search for archaeological remains, how exca-
vations are done, how to determine the age of prehistoric
materials, who Louis Leakey was, and the like.
Neither of these approaches met our needs, so we
decided to write a text that followed the format that had
been successful in our introductory class. We wrote a
book that combined both survey and primer, but with an
emphasis on archaeological sites. We believed then, and
still do today, that a combination of what has been dis-
covered and how archaeologists learn about the past is of
value in introductory archaeology courses.
We also took a new tack in the book. Rather than try
to cover all of archaeology, we chose to emphasize only
certain discoveries that had produced major insights into
prehistory. Our focus was, and still is, on some 80 archae-
ological sites from a variety of times and places around
the world. These sites are signposts to the past and allow
students to focus on what is important.
To play to our strengths, we divided the writing
according to our own areas of knowledge and activity.
Doug Price is interested in prehistoric foragers and the
transition to agriculture; Gary Feinman is interested in
the rise of complex societies and the organization of
states. Price works primarily in the Old World with stone
tools, bones, and hunter-gatherers; Feinman does field-
work largely in Mexico and China, where ceramics are a
primary source of information. Our diverse interests al-
lowed us to create a text with balanced coverage of the
Eastern and Western Hemispheres.
We also took a new approach to the format and lay-
out of the text. We divided the information into pieces,
with more than 80 sites and numerous small sections on
ideas, methods, people, and things. These short segments,
while full of information, can be readily digested by the
reader and allow the instructor to organize the readings
in the book as best fits the course. The substantial num-
ber of illustrations helps convey both the diversity and
splendor of archaeology.
Thus Images offers a visual, site-oriented look at
human prehistory. What is important, we believe, is to con-
vey the excitement, intrigue, and imagery of archaeology.
Preface xi
We think that Images does that and that it provides a rich
introduction to archaeology. We hope that our interest in
and enthusiasm for archaeology carry over to you in this
book and that you will enjoy these Images of the Past.
ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK
Our journey begins with the evidence for the first hu-
mans, more than 5 million years ago, and concludes with
the rise of great empires around the world. This survey
of world prehistory is organized in 10 chapters, along
chronological and/or geographical lines. Chapters 2
through 4 are in chronological order, from the earliest
human remains several million years ago to the begin-
nings of farming around 10,000 years ago. These chapters
follow the expansion of human beings from our original
home in Africa to Asia, Europe, and eventually Australia
and the Americas. Chapter 4 covers the beginnings of
agriculture from a global perspective.
Chapters 5 through 9 are concerned with the rise of
large, complex societies and early states and empires. This
second half of the text has a geographical organization,
with chapters on North America, Middle America, South
America, Asia and Africa, and Europe. Within each of these
chapters, we have generally followed the sequence of
development through time, from earlier to later. Although
the earliest state societies arose in the Old World, we have
arranged the chapters from the New World to the Old in
order to emphasize and compare the rise of states in both
areas. This arrangement of the chapters is intended to en-
hance comprehension of major processes such as the spread
of agriculture and the rise of more complex societies.
We have sandwiched these ten chapters of site-
oriented survey between two distinctive bookends that
introduce the field and convey some sense of the larger
context of archaeology. Chapter 1 provides a brief over-
view of principles and methods. This information gives
the reader a basic understanding of the kinds of things
that archaeologists want to know and how they find them
out. Chapter 10 has been expanded as a conclusion for
the book. This chapter considers why archaeology is im-
portant and the ethical responsibilities of being an ar-
chaeologist.
HALLMARK FEATURES OF THE BOOK
Each of the chapters on world prehistory contains site
and concept essays enclosed by an Introduction and by
a concluding section called “Images and Ideas.” The In-
troduction provides an overview of the major themes
and discoveries in the chapter. The Introduction also con-
tains essential maps and chronological charts for the
chapter. The “Images and Ideas” sections provide a reca-
pitulation of the chapter content and place that informa-
tion in a larger context, often incorporating new concepts,
theories, or comparisons. Examples of discussions in the
xii Preface
“Images and Ideas” sections are the behavioral correlates
of cold climate adaptations, the origins of language, and
the nature of cultural complexity. The Introductions
and “Images and Ideas” sections should be read with
some care; they provide the glue that binds the site de-
scriptions together.
Interspersed among the site descriptions are concept
sections that cover some of the how and why of archaeol-
ogy: essential methods, debates about archaeological in-
terpretation, or certain spectacular finds. In these concept
sections, we illustrate some of the more interesting ques-
tions archaeologists ask about the past and highlight vari-
ous new methods that are employed to decipher the
archaeological record.
Because prehistory is a very visual subject, we have in-
corporated more than 500 illustrations in this book—more
than any other book on the market. It is essential to see and
study the maps, plans, artifacts, and places that help make
up the archaeological record. The basic framework of
archaeology is the place of prehistoric materials in time and
space. For this reason, we have included a series of coordi-
nated maps and timelines to show readers where these sites
and materials fit in terms of geography and chronology.
Throughout the text, we have included a number
of learning aids to help students better understand the
material. Chapter outlines lead off each chapter, giving
students a preview of what is to come. Marginal quotes
allow students to hear the voices of the field. Technical
terms and important concepts in archaeology are indi-
cated in bold type; these words can be found both in the
adjacent margin of the text and in a glossary at the end of
the book. The size and scale of archaeological sites and
features is an important aspect. Where appropriate, we
have tried to provide some sense of the size of areas and
structures with reference to modern features such as city
blocks, football fields, and buildings. An appendix offers
some English–metric measure conversions and various
equivalents to help make sizes more comprehensible.
Supplementary readings are essential for introduc-
tory courses for several reasons: to provide interested stu-
dents with directions for further study, to assist in the
preparation of papers, and to elaborate on subjects that
can be addressed only briefly in a textbook. In Images of
the Past, a short list of Suggested Readings appears at the
end of each chapter, appropriate to the subject matter.
A more complete list of sources used in the preparation
of the book can be found in the back pages. Specific cita-
tions were not used in the text itself for the sake of read-
ability, but references for the information can be found
under the name of the individual associated with the
work in the bibliography at the back of the book. In addi-
tion, this bibliography appears in searchable format on
the book Web site.
An important note on dates in this edition: Because
of the long time span covered by archaeology, the age of
archaeological materials is given in several ways. Dates
older than 10,000 years ago are described in years before
the present (B.P.) or in millions of years ago (m.y.a.). Dates
less than 10,000 years ago are given in calendar years be-
fore Christ (B.C.) or anno Domini, “in the year of the Lord”
(A.D.). Dates for the past 10,000 years have been corrected,
or calibrated, for a known error in radiocarbon dating.
Another term used for more recent periods of time is mil-
lennium, a period of 1000 years. We live today in the third
millennium, the third 1000-year period after Christ. The
millennia before Christ run in reverse—for example, the
first millennium goes from 1000 B.C. to 1 B.C., and so on.
WHAT’S NEW IN THIS EDITION
The seventh edition of Images of the Past contains a num-
ber of additions and changes from the previous version.
We have retained the basic structure of a site-by-site jour-
ney through the past, interspersed with blocks of text
about places, methods, and things. We believe that this
connected series of short modules serves the reading
habits of our students well.
The past does not get old, and new discoveries and
interpretations are a constant in archaeology. The pace of
discovery and insight in modern archaeology is such that
each year there are dramatic changes in our knowledge. We
hope to keep Images of the Past as up-to-date as a book about
the past can be. At the same time, we hope to improve the
quality of the book with a new round of revisions.
We have done some reorganization, corrected errors,
updated contents, and added some new material. Through-
out the volume, we have tried to improve the flow and
accuracy of the text and to add to the connectivity of our
story. Major changes include the lumping of two pairs of
chapters, the addition of several new sites, and a number
of new illustrations. More details on these revisions follow.
Chapter 1, Principles of Archaeology, was revised
heavily for the last edition and has not undergone sub-
stantial changes this time around. The same cannot be
said for previous chapters 2 through 5 in the last edition.
These chapters have been subject to substantial revision
and modification. Chapter 2, The First Humans, and
Chapter 3, Out of Africa, have been combined into a
single new Chapter 2. We have now placed together in a
single chapter all human ancestors prior to the appear-
ance of the Neanderthals and anatomically modern hu-
mans, Homo sapiens. We think this is more useful for
explaining and understanding the early evolution of our
early ancestors. There is now more discussion of the
genus and species Ardipithecus ramidus, which has been
recognized in recent years as an important link in the line
of human evolution. The site of Swartkrans in South
Africa has been deleted to focus more on the human re-
mains from East Africa that provide an almost complete
story of the developments from ape to human.
In the second half of the new Chapter 2, more discus-
sion on the role of the brain in our evolution and its growth
over time in terms of energy needs and activity has been
added. More details on the important site of Dmanisi in
the country of Georgia have been included. This site con-
tains the oldest known human evidence outside of Africa.
Additional details from Atapuerca, the oldest archaeologi-
cal site in Europe, have been included, focusing on the new
dates from the site and the very early finds from Sima del
Elefante. In addition, the age of a number of skeletons of
Homo heidelbergensis from Simos de los Huesos has been
redated to 530,000 years before present. Kalambo Falls and
Olorgesailie have been removed in favor of the site of
Schöningen in Germany where the evidence for the use
of wooden spears is dramatically preserved in deposits
of soft coal and peat, some 400,000 years old.
In a similar fashion, Chapter 4, The Hunters, and
Chapter 5, Postglacial Foragers, have been combined in a
new Chapter 3, The Hunters to document the rise of
Homo sapiens, anatomically modern humans around the
end of the Pleistocene geological epoch. New develop-
ments in the study of ancient DNA are outlined as this
field of investigation rapidly grows and advances our
knowledge of the past. The sites of Pincevent and Lin-
denmeier have been removed and more attention given
to the peopling of the New World and the First Ameri-
cans. More emphasis is placed on the coastal route be-
tween Siberia and North America and more detail is
provided on new pre-Clovis sites in the United States.
The post-Pleistocene segment of the new Chapter 3 has
been condensed, following suggestions from reviewers
of the book, and the site of Elands Bay and Sannai
Maruyama are no longer included. The discussion of the
nature of hunter-gatherers and human society has been
expanded.
The Origins of Agriculture are now the subject of
new Chapter 4. Two new areas, South Asia and New
Guinea, have been added to the list of places where agri-
culture appears to have been independently invented.
A substantial new section has been added on New Evi-
dence from Southwest Asia, which has forced a major
rethinking of the nature of human society and activity in
this region at the time of the transition to agriculture. The
site of Gobekli Tepi in Turkey is the location of monu-
mental construction in the form of large underground
structures supported by massive carved columns of stone
that completely revises our view of the earliest pre-
pottery Neolithic in that region. The size and scale of con-
struction imply much more organized and sophisticated
societies. About the same time, new colonists were leav-
ing mainland Southwest Asia and sailing to Cyprus, a
distant and rather barren island in the eastern Mediter-
ranean. They took with them to this largely empty is-
land new species of plants and animals, both wild and
potentially domesticated forms and created a new
ecosystem on the island. This expansion to Cyprus dra-
matically documents the spread of agriculture at an
early date.
Preface xiii
 The new Chapter 5, Native North Americans, now
includes new information on the introduction of cacao
from Mesoamerica to Chaco Canyon. Recent findings
from Cahokia also are presented. In the revised Chapter
6, Ancient Mesoamerica, new information on the Pre-
classic Maya is incorporated into the text as are new
ideas regarding prehispanic Mesoamerican craft produc-
tion. The new Chapter 7, South America; The Inca and
their Predecessors, expands consideration of the Wari
empire.
New Chapter 8, States and Empires in Asia and
Africa, starts with a new introduction on Indian Ocean
trade and weaves a discussion of interregional trade and
exchange into this section of the book. New findings from
northern Mesopotamia and concerning China’s first em-
peror also are added. The coverage on Great Zimbabwe
also is updated.
New Chapter 9, Prehistoric Europe, and Chapter 10,
The Past as Present and Future, have undergone rela-
tively minor changes with a few new photos, a few cor-
rections, and some expanded discussion of issues in the
concluding chapter. A more detailed discussion of the lat-
est interpretation of the Stonehenge region and the sig-
nificance of these monuments has been added.
We hope that the revised content has resulted in a
book that students will continue to want to pick up and
read. In addition to the changes in the text, the supple-
ments for the book remain a strong component and are
detailed in the next section. We also have expanded our
lists of suggested readings, which will allow readers to
dig more deeply into many topics raised. The input from
students, instructors, and reviewers has been most help-
ful in revising this edition of Images. We benefit greatly
from your suggestions and very much appreciate your
help and interest. Please do let us know when you would
like to see changes in the book.
SUPPLEMENTS
For the Student
The Student’s Online Learning Center (by Adam Wetsman,
Rio Hondo College). This free, Web-based student supple-
ment features a large number of interactive exercises and
activities, helpful study tools, links, and useful informa-
tion (www.mhhe.com/priceip7e). The Web site is designed
specifically to complement the individual chapters of the
book. In-text icons guide students to information on a par-
ticular topic that is available on the Web site.
Useful Study Tools
• Chapter objectives and outlines—give students sign-
posts for understanding and recognizing key chap-
ter content.
xiv Preface
• Multiple-choice and true/false questions—give stu-
dents the opportunity to quiz themselves on chapter
content and visuals.
• Essay questions—allow students to explore key
chapter concepts through their own writing.
• Glossary—defines key terms.
• Audio glossary—helps students with words that are
difficult to pronounce through audio pronunciation.
Useful Information
• FAQs about archaeology careers—give students an-
swers to questions on available jobs, necessary edu-
cation and training, and basic texts on the field, as
well as picking a college or university, going on a
dig, and getting more information.
• Career opportunities—offer students related links to
useful information on careers in anthropology.
For the Instructor
The Instructor’s Online Learning Center (by T. Douglas
Price, Gary M. Feinman, and Adam Wetsman). This indis-
pensable, easy-to-use, password-protected instructor sup-
plement provides a variety of features:
• Image Library—offers professors the opportunity to
create custom-made, professional-looking presenta-
tions and handouts by providing electronic versions
of many maps, tables, illustrations, and photos from
the text. All images are ready to be used in any ap-
plicable teaching tools.
• PowerPoint lecture slides—give professors ready-
made chapter-by-chapter presentation notes.
• Instructor’s Manual—offers chapter outlines, chap-
ter summaries, learning objectives, lecture launcher
ideas, and suggested films and videos.
It also provides access to all of the student online materi-
als. Visit our Online Learning Web site at www.mhhe
.com/priceip7e to access these robust supplements.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Any large project like this is the culmination of the efforts
and contributions of a multitude of individuals and insti-
tutions. We want to thank the many people who have
helped with this book in a number of different ways—
reviewing the text, providing new data, supplying photo-
graphs and art, locating materials and information, check-
ing facts, and giving general support. With more than 500
illustrations, the task of finding artwork, obtaining copies
and permissions, and organizing it all is enormous. We
have done our very best to contact the copyright holders
of the original work included herein and to secure their
permission to reprint their material; if we have overlooked
anyone, we offer our sincere apologies.
This project has been long and complex and would
not have been possible or pleasurable without the help of
these friends and colleagues: Kim Aaris-Sørensen, Melvin
Aitkens, Niels Andersen, Larry Bartram, Gert Jan Bart-
stra, John Bennet, Pia Bennike, Peter Bogucki, Richard
Bradley, Maggie Brandenburg, C. K. Brain, Robert Bright-
man, Göran Burenhult, Jim Burton, Brian Byrd, Christopher
Chippendale, Tim Champion, Grahame Clark, Desmond
Clark, Carmen Collazo, Meg Conkey, Lawrence Conyers,
Nina Cummings, Erwin Cziesla, George Dales, Jack
Davis, Hilary and Janette Deacon, John de Vos, Preben
Dehlholm, Tom Dillehay, Christopher Donnan, Scott
Fedick, Lisa Ferin, Kent Flannery, Melvin Fowler, George
Frison, Anne Birgitte Gebauer, Henry George, Ted Gerney,
Jon Gibson, Junko Habu, Peter Christian Vemming Hansen,
Spencer Harrington, Sønke Hartz, Matt Hill, Ian Hodder,
Brian Hoffman, Frank Hole, Vance Holliday, F. Clark
Howell, Fang Hui, Tom Jacobsen, Dick Jeffries, Greg John-
son, Ken Karstens, Larry Keeley, Mark Kenoyer, Susan
Kepecs, J. E. Kidder Jr., Richard Klein, François Lévèque,
Katina Lillios, Henry de Lumley, Tom Lynch, Joyce
Marcus, Alexander Marshack, Ray Matheny, Alan May,
Roderick McIntosh, Susan McIntosh, Richard Meadow,
James Mellaart, A. T. M. Moore, Donna J. Nash, Chris
O’Brien, Inger Österholm, David Overstreet, John Park-
ington, Peter Vang Petersen, Tom Pleger, Theron D. Price,
Naomi Pritchard, Jeffrey Quilter, John Reader, Charles
Redman, Merle Greene Robertson, Gary Rollefson, Ulrick
Rossing, William Ruddiman, Denise Schmandt-Besserat,
Sissel Schroeder, Kathie Schick, Jeff Shokler, Brian Siegel,
Ralph Solecki, Charles Spencer, Dragoslav Srejovic,
Sharon Steadman, Vin Steponaitis, Jim Stoltman,
J. F. Thackeray, Helmut Thieme, David Hurst Thomas,
Donald Thompson, Larry Todd, B. L. Turner II, Patty Jo
Watson, John Weinstein, Huang Weiwen, J. Peter White,
Joyce White, Edwin Wilmsen, Peter Woodman, and
Tineke van Zandt.
Several individuals deserve special mention. Linda
Nicholas helped greatly with many aspects of the project,
especially finalizing large parts of the text and illustrations.
Jennifer Blitz spent much of a year obtaining illustrations
and permissions for the first edition with extraordinary
energy and care. We are also very grateful to the teaching
assistants we had over the years in our introductory course
in archaeology at the University of Wisconsin for their
input and comments.
Reviewers for the seventh edition provided lots of
ideas and suggestions, and we gratefully acknowledge
their contributions:
We thank our reviewers for the previous six edi-
tions, who provided help, ideas, and inspiration to revise
and refine the text:
Douglas B. Bamforth, University of
Colorado–Boulder
Timothy Baumann, University of
Missouri–St. Louis
J. M. Beaton, University of California–Davis
Ellen E. Bell, California State University–Stanislaus
Richard Blanton, Purdue University
Charles A. Bollong, University of Arizona
Scott Brosowske, University of Oklahoma
G. A. Clark, Arizona State University
Angela E. Close, University of Washington
Kathryn Cruz-Uribe, Northern Arizona University
Michael Danti, Boston University
Richard Effland, Mesa Community College
James Enloe, University of Iowa
Charles Ewen, East Carolina University
Steven Falconer, Arizona State University
Kenneth L. Feder, Central Connecticut
State University
Lisa Frink, University of Nevada–Las Vegas
Lynne Goldstein, Michigan State University
William A. Haviland, University of Vermont
John W. Hoopes, University of Kansas
John J. Killeen, Louis Berger and Associates,
Cultural Resource Group
Steve Langdon, University of Alaska–Anchorage
Paul E. Langwalter II, Cypress College
Carole A. Mandryk, Harvard University
Marilyn Masson, State University of
New York–Albany
Randall McGuire, State University of
New York–Binghamton
Alan McPheran, University of Pittsburgh
Kristy Miller, Estrella Mountain Community College
Slobodan Mitrovic, Brooklyn College
Gary W. Pahl, San Francisco State University
Kerry Josef Pataki, Portland Community
College–Sylvania
Timothy R. Pauketat, University of Illinois
Mary Pohl, Florida State University
David Pokotylo, University of British Columbia
Donald A. Proulx, University of
Massachusetts–Amherst
Mark A. Rees, University of Louisiana at Lafayette
John W. Rick, Stanford University
Lauren Ritterbush, Kansas State University
Preface xv
 Lauren W. Ritterbush, University of Kansas
Ralph M. Rowlett, University of
Missouri–Columbia
Katharina J. Schreiber, University of
California–Santa Barbara
Alexia Smith, University of Connecticut
Michael P. Smyth, University of Kentucky
Alexandre Steenhuyse, Virginia Commonwealth
University
Jennifer Taschek, San Diego State University
Tina Thurston, SUNY Buffalo
Jason L. Toohey, University of Wyoming
William Turnbaugh, University of Rhode Island
Tineke Van Zandt, Pima Community College
Joseph Walter Ball, San Diego State University
Peter S. Wells, University of Minnesota
Adam Wetsman, Rio Hondo College
Lisa Westwood, California State
University–Chico
Mary K. Whelan, University of Iowa
xvi Preface
Nancy Marie White, University of South Florida
Fred Valdez, The University of Texas at Austin
Randall White, New York University
Chip Wills, University of New Mexico
David J. Wilson, Southern Methodist University
Richard W. Yerkes, Ohio State University
This seventh edition has required a large group of
talented individuals to put it together and we would like
to heartily thank them. The McGraw-Hill staff included
Gina Boedeker, Managing Director; Penina Braffman,
Development Editor; Erin Melloy, Project Manager; Sue
Culbertson, Buyer; JaNoel Lowe, Copyeditor; Susan
Gall, Proofreader; and Nicole Bridge Developmental
Editor.
To all of these individuals go our deep and sincere
thanks. We hope that you find the result worth your efforts
and that you will continue to provide input, suggestions,
and new discoveries that will improve the next edition.
T. Douglas Price
Gary M. Feinman
<
About the Authors

Doug Price is Weinstein Professor of European Archaeol-

ogy and Director of the Laboratory for Archaeological
Chemistry at the University of Wisconsin–Madison,
where he has been on the faculty for more than 35 years.
He was also 6th Century Chair in Archaeological Science
Gary Feinman is Curator of Mesoamerican Anthropol-
at the University of Aberdeen for several years before
ogy at The Field Museum in Chicago. He also is an Ad-
his retirement. He is currently Honorary Professor in
junct Professor of Anthropology at both the University
the Department of Prehistoric Archaeology at the Uni-
of Illinois–Chicago and Northwestern University. Fein-
versity of Aarhus, Denmark. His research has involved
man’s current research, which he directs with Linda
substantial fieldwork on the beginnings of agriculture
Nicholas, is focused on understanding the economy and
in southern Scandinavia and laboratory studies using
daily life at the time of the Monte Albán state in the Val-
strontium isotopes to study prehistoric human mobility.
ley of Oaxaca, Mexico, primarily through excavations at
He has been involved in fieldwork in Denmark, Ireland,
the site of El Palmillo. He also is involved in a regional
Wisconsin, Michigan, the Netherlands, Peru, Mexico,
settlement pattern project in eastern Shandong Province,
Guatemala, Israel, and New Mexico. He likes archaeol-
China, with colleagues from The Field Museum and
ogy, most children, cooking, college football. He doesn't
Shandong University. Feinman is the author of various
like lengthy, self-promoting descriptions by a book's
books and articles and has conducted field research
author.
in the North American Southwest. He has taught post-
graduate classes in Mexico and China. In addition to
archaeology, Feinman enjoys sports, hiking, time with
family and friends, travel, and communicating about
science and archaeology to the public through diverse
media and means.

About the Authors xvii

This page intentionally left blank
Also Available from McGraw-Hill

by T. Douglas Price

Principles of Archaeology, 2007

 C H A P T

1 E R O N E

Figure 1.1 Excavations at Boxgrove, a Paleolithic site in England.

 <
Principles of (
Archaeology
:
Introduction
E xcavation is at the heart of the fascination of archaeology. Digging into the
earth to reveal buried lives is an extraordinary undertaking. Excavations at
CHAPTER OUTLINE

Introduction 1
<
the site of Boxgrove in southern England (Figure 1.1), for example, are uncover-
ing human bones and stone tools from almost half a million years ago. Archaeol- TIME 2
ogy tells us about our human past.
This book, Images of the Past, is about archaeology and covers more than
7 million years and much of the planet. But it is simply not possible to write
about all of human prehistory in a single volume such as this; that would be like
Geological Time 3

CHANGE 5
V
trying to see all the attractions in Washington, DC, in 10 minutes. Because we can Biological Evolution 6
visit only a few of the more interesting places, we have chosen important archae- FUNDAMENTALS OF
ological sites that have substantially increased our understanding of the past.
We hope the pathway through the past that weaves through the following
pages provides you with a sense of what archaeologists know about our global
past and how they have come to know it. The trail that runs through this volume
ARCHAEOLOGY 7

The Discovery of
Archaeological Sites 8
:
and ties the past to the present involves major trends in our development as a Archaeological Excavation 11
technological species—growth, diversification, and specialization. Growth is seen
in the increasing number of people on the planet and in the greater complexity of
human technology and organization. Diversity is observed in the variable roles
and social relationships that exist in society and in the kinds of environments
our species inhabits. Increasing specialization is witnessed in the tools and tech-
Context, Association,
and Provenience 14

Analysis of Archaeological
Materials 18
y
niques used to obtain food and manufacture objects. The story of our human
past, then, is the story of these changes over time as we evolved from small, local Interpretation of
groups of people living close to nature to large nation-states involved in global
trade, warfare, and politics.
Archaeology is the study of our human past, combining the themes of time
and change. Those themes—change in our biology and change in our behavior
Archaeological
Information 24

Images and Ideas The

<
Basics of Archaeology 32
over time—are also the focus of this book. Archaeology is the closest thing we
have to a time machine, taking us backward through the mists of the ages. The
fog becomes thicker the farther back we go, and the windows of our time ma-
chine become more obscured. In Chapter 2, we go as far back as humans can go,
some 7 million years ago, when we took our first steps in Africa. Subsequent
chapters trace the achievements of our ancestors as we migrated to new conti- prehistory In general, the human
p
past; specifically, the time before the
nents, developed innovative technologies for coping with cold climates, crafted
appearance of written records.
more complex tools, imagined art, domesticated plants and animals, moved into
cities, and created written languages. But first, in this chapter, we present an in-
troduction for comprehending our human past—those themes of time and
change—along with basic methods and principles of archaeology.
:
archaeology The study of the human
past, combining the themes of time
and change.

1
W
Figure 1.2 The Big Bang began the
history of the universe, spewing
space and time into the unknown.
w w w. m h h e . c o m / p r i c e i p 7 e
For preview material for this chapter,
see the comprehensive chapter outline
and chapter objectives on your online
learning center.
If you count one number per second,
night and day, starting with 1, it would
take 17 minutes to count to a thou-
sand, 12 days to count to a million,
and 32 years to count to a billion.
—Carl Sagan (1987)
2 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
TIME
To understand time, it is necessary to imagine the unimaginable. Sometime
between 10 and 15 billion years ago, an explosion of cosmic proportions
ripped time and space apart and created our universe. Hydrogen and helium
hurtled through the emptiness, cast out of that original Big Bang (Figure 1.2).
Clouds of these gases began to coagulate, and as they were compacted by grav-
ity, temperatures rose and the energy created in the nuclear furnaces of the first
stars lit up the universe.
More complex reactions in these emerging stars gave rise to heavier atoms
of carbon, oxygen, magnesium, silicon, sulfur, and the other elements. Huge
eruptions and disintegrations tore these early elements out of the stars and
spewed them across space, creating newer and heavier stars. Smaller conglomer-
ations of elements, lacking the mass or the temperature to ignite, condensed and
gathered around the edges of the brightly burning stars. Some of these cold out-
liers became hard, metallic globes; others, frigid balls of gas. The planets were
born. Some gases remained on the harder planets and condensed into oceans
or enveloped the surface as a primordial atmosphere. Violent electrical storms,
driven by energy from the stars and cataclysmic volcanic activity, rifting the sur-
face of the forming planets, tore apart and reconstituted these elements in the
early seas and atmospheres.
On the planet we call Earth, formed about 4.6 billion years ago, this alchemy
of primeval forces churned out new molecules in an atmosphere of methane,
ammonia, hydrogen sulfide, water, and hydrogen. Among the multitude of chem-
istries created in the soup of the early Earth’s oceans was a remarkable combination
of atoms. This was a strange molecule, able to reproduce itself—to make a copy of
its original—to live. Life emerged shortly after 4 billion years ago. Like the broom
of the sorcerer’s apprentice in the film Fantasia, once begun, the copying process
filled the seas with duplicates. These reproducing molecules grew, achieved more
complex forms, and became the building blocks of more elaborate organisms that
developed metabolic and sexual reproductive functions. Systems for eating and
internal metabolism enabled organisms to obtain energy from other life-forms. Sex-
ual reproduction allowed for a tremendous diversity in offspring and, thus, a
greater capacity for adapting to changing environments and conditions.
Plants appeared in the oceans and spread to the land. The atmosphere
fed carbon dioxide to the plants, and they in turn replenished the air with
oxygen through the process of photosynthesis. Swimming cooperatives of
 First molecules

Sunday—Day 1

Bacterialike
Monday—Day 2 organisms
Photosynthesis
Algae
First cells

Tuesday—Day 3

First cells containing

genetic material
Wednesday—Day 4

Invertebrates

Thursday—Day 5

Trilobites

Friday—Day 6
Hominins
First primates 11:48 P.M.
11:00 P.M.
Saturday—Day 7
Insects
Swamps
and forests
Dinosaurs
3:00 P.M. Occurring within the last
5 seconds before midnight

Each day = 650 million years

Agriculture and
First art domestic animals Industry

Figure 1.3 The evolution of life on

Earth seen as a single week in time.
molecules in the oceans moved onto the land and began to use the oxygen in the
Planet Earth forms at 12:01 on Sun-
air for breathing and other metabolic functions. Fish, amphibians, reptiles, day morning, life shows up for work
insects, mammals, and birds spread across the face of the earth. And then, only a on Monday morning, fish evolve on
moment ago in geological time, a human creature evolved as part of this great Saturday morning, and the first
chain of living beings. bipedal hominins show up at 11:48
Saturday night.
Geological Time
Time is a very difficult concept. The universe is perhaps 10 billion years old. Earth
is roughly 4.6 billion years old. The idea of 10 billion years, 4.6 billion years, or
even 1 million years is impossible for us to comprehend. But to understand our
past and our place in the cosmos, we need some way to appreciate such a vast
span of time. If we could compact the eons that have passed into meaningful units
of time, the events of our evolutionary history might make more sense.

Time 3

era A major division of geological
time, tens or hundreds of millions of
years long, usually distinguished by
significant changes in the plant and
animal kingdoms. Also used to denote
later archaeological periods, such as
the prehistoric era.
m.y.a. Abbreviation for millions of
years ago.
epoch A subdivision of geological
time, millions of years long, represent-
ing units of eras.
4 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
Consider a single week, from Sunday morning to Saturday night, as a sub-
stitute for our countdown to today (Figure 1.3). One day in this 4.6-billion-year
week would represent over 650 million years, a single hour would be 25 million
years, a minute would be 400,000 years, and the passage of a single second
would take more than 6000 years.
Roughly 4.6 billion years ago—the 7 days of our symbolic week—the earth
formed in our solar system. The time was the first thing Sunday, 12:01 A.M. By
Sunday evening, a primitive atmosphere and oceans had appeared, and the first
molecules began to coalesce. By Monday morning, the first traces of life emerged
in the shape of bacteria that evolved and multiplied. More complex bacteria and
algae, using photosynthesis, began the task of converting the poisonous, primor-
dial atmosphere to an oxygen base on Tuesday. Not until Thursday were the first
cells carrying genetic material created. Late Friday morning, the first invertebrate
animals—resembling jellyfish, sponges, and worms—evolved. Before dawn on
Saturday morning, the seas were teeming with shell-bearing animals, such as the
trilobites. Around breakfast time on Saturday, fish and small land plants appeared.
By 11:00 A.M., amphibians began to move onto the land, and insects appeared in
a warm landscape of swamps and forests. Late that same afternoon, the first di-
nosaurs crawled about. Smaller, warm-blooded dinosaurs began to produce live
young and nurse them. The ancestors of modern mammals appeared shortly
after 9:30 P.M. At 10:53 P.M., the common ancestor of apes and man made its home
in the dense forests of Africa. The first recognizable human, walking on two legs,
made an appearance at 11:48 P.M. The first art was created less than 5 seconds
before midnight. Agriculture and animal domestication originated only 2 seconds
before the end of the week, and the industrial revolution began just as the echoes
of the last bell at midnight disappeared.
To help make this huge time span comprehensible, archaeologists and geol-
ogists have developed systems for breaking the vastness of time into smaller seg-
ments. Archaeologists deal with the period of humans on the planet, roughly the
past 6 or 7 million years. Archaeologists use geological time, but they also have
created a means of reckoning time that reflects changes in human behavior and
artifacts. This archaeological system of chronology involves divisions such as Pa-
leolithic, Neolithic, Bronze Age, and Iron Age and is discussed in more detail in a
subsequent chapter. (See Chapter 3, p. 70.)
Geologists deal with the entire history of the earth and distinguish a series
of eras representing major episodes, usually separated by significant changes in
the plant and animal kingdoms (Figure 1.4). The Precambrian was the first major
era of geological time, extending from the origin of the earth to about 600 million
years ago (m.y.a.). The succeeding Paleozoic era witnessed the appearance of the
first vertebrate species: fish and the first amphibians. Plants spread onto the land,
and reptiles began to appear. Around 245 m.y.a., the Mesozoic era, the Age of Di-
nosaurs, began following a period of extinction. The Cenozoic, our current era,
began about 65 m.y.a. with the expansion of modern mammals, birds, and flow-
ering plants, following the extinction of the dinosaurs. This episode of extinction
is now thought to have resulted from the catastrophic impact of a meteor, caus-
ing major climatic and environmental disruption.
The Cenozoic is further divided by geologists into a series of seven epochs,
only the last four of which are relevant to the evolution of the human species.
The Miocene, which dates from 25 to 5.5 m.y.a., witnessed the emergence of our
first humanlike ancestor near the end of the epoch. The Pliocene, beginning
about 5.5 m.y.a., is the geological epoch in which a variety of hominins, or
humanlike creatures, appeared. The Pleistocene, beginning about 2 m.y.a., was
marked by a series of major climatic fluctuations. Completely modern forms of
the human species appeared toward the end of this epoch. The Recent epoch—
also called the Holocene (or the Postglacial or Present Interglacial)—began only
 Millions of
Era Period Epoch years ago (m.y.a.) Important Events

Recent (Holocene) Modern genera of animals.

Quaternary 0.01
Pleistocene Early humans and giant mammals now extinct; glaciation.
2.0
Pliocene Anthropoid radiation and culmination of mammalian speciation;
CENOZOIC 5.5
Miocene earliest apes.
25
Tertiary Oligocene
38
Eocene Expansion and modernization of mammals.
54
Paleocene
65
Dinosaurs dominant; marsupial and placental mammals appear; first
Cretaceous
flowering plants spread rapidly.
135
Dominance of dinosaurs; first mammals and birds; insects abundant,
MESOZOIC Jurassic
including social forms.
180
First dinosaurs and mammal-like reptiles, with culmination of large
Triassic
amphibians.
245
Permian Primitive reptiles replace amphibians as dominant class; glaciation.
270
Carboniferous Amphibians dominant in luxuriant coal forests; first reptiles and trees.
350
PALEOZOIC Devonian Dominance of fishes; first amphibians.
400
Silurian Primitive fishes; invasion of land by plants and arthropods.
440
Ordovician First vertebrates, the jawless fish; invertebrates dominate the seas.
500
Cambrian All invertebrate phyla appear and algae diversify.
540

PRE- Oldest rocks; a few multicellular invertebrates; earliest fossils at 3.6 b.y.a.
CAMBRIAN Single-cell organisms appear.

4600

11,000 years ago and witnessed the origins of agriculture, the first cities, and the Figure 1.4 The major periods of
industrial age, including our present time. geological time and their principal
characteristics.

CHANGE
Change, modification, variation—these themes describe the path of evolution
from the first self-replicating molecules to the fully modern humans of today.
Most of the evolution of life on Earth is marked by biological evolution from one
species to another in order to adapt to change. As humans, we have a second,
unique system for adaptation that involves learned behaviors. Culture is a means
of human adaptation based on experience, learning, and the use of tools. Cultural
and biological responses to cold conditions provide an example. Humans built
fires to stay warm, whereas body hair increased on other animals, such as the
woolly mammoth. Within limits, culture enables us to modify and enhance our
behavior without a corresponding change in our genetic makeup. As a conse-
quence, biological evolution and natural selection alone cannot explain the cul-
turally acquired traits of the human species.
The prehistoric record of our ancestors is characterized by both biological culture A uniquely human means of
nonbiological adaptation; a repertoire
evolution and cultural developments (Figure 1.5). Biological, rather than cultural,
of learned behaviors for coping with
changes dominated our first several million years of existence. The evolution the physical and social environments.
of our earliest forebears was highlighted by key changes in movement, body

Change 5
 2000
Figure 1.5 Biological organisms Equus
and cultural artifacts change over 1 m.y.a.
time. The history of the automobile
from A.D. 1910 to 2000. The evolu-
tion of the horse from Hyracotherium,
45 m.y.a., to Equus, 1 m.y.a.
1970

Pliohippus
3 m.y.a.
1950

Merychippus
15 m.y.a.

1930

Mesohippus
35 m.y.a.

1910 Hyracotherium
45 m.y.a.

size, teeth, and the size and organization of the brain. The transmission of
cultural traits through learning occurs much more rapidly than Darwinian evolu-
tion. The past hundred thousand years or so of our presence on the planet are
marked primarily by cultural changes rather than biological ones. The story of
archaeology—the search for evidence of our cultural development over time—is
the subject of this book. The nature of biological evolution is briefly discussed in
more detail before we return to the subject of archaeology.

Biological Evolution
The theory of natural selection, formulated by Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel
What are the differences be- Wallace in the middle of the nineteenth century, describes this process of change.

y tween cultural development

and biological development?
Wallace and Darwin were strongly influenced by the ideas of Thomas Malthus,
an English clergyman and philosopher. In his Essay on the Principle of Population
(1798), Malthus observed that the growth rate of the human population poten-
tially exceeded the amount of food available. Malthus argued that famine, war,
and disease limited the size of human populations, and for those reasons the
number of people did not overwhelm the resources available to feed them. In
essence, Malthus noted that not everyone who was born survived to reproduce.
Darwin coined the term natural selection to account for the increase in off-
spring of those individuals who did survive. He introduced the concept in his
1859 publication On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. During a
global voyage of exploration aboard the HMS Beagle, Darwin had observed that
most species of plants and animals showed a great deal of variation—that indi-
viduals were distinct and exhibited different characteristics. Following Malthus,
Darwin pointed out that all organisms produce more offspring than can survive

6 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology

and that the individuals that survive do so because of certain advantageous char-
acteristics they possess.
In other words, the surviving organisms are better adapted to the world
that confronts them. For example, offspring with better hearing or eyesight can
more effectively avoid predators. Nature’s choice of better-adapted individuals—
the “survival of the fittest,” according to Darwin—leads to continual change in
the species, as their more advantageous characteristics are passed genetically
from one generation to the next. This basic process gave rise to the myriad crea-
tures that occupy the world today. Evolutionary change is often described as dif-
ferential reproductive success, and natural selection is the principal, though not
the exclusive, mechanism responsible for it. Of course, as environmental condi-
tions change, those physical characteristics that enhance survival and successful
parenting also may vary.
Views on this process of evolution change over time, too. New mechanisms
for evolution have been proposed, and there is ongoing discussion about the level
in populations at which selection operates, whether on groups or on individuals.
There is also debate about the pace of change—whether major evolutionary mod-
ifications occurred gradually, as Darwin emphasized, or rather abruptly and sud-
denly. Stephen Jay Gould and Niles Eldredge of Harvard University describe the
uneven pace of evolution as “punctuated equilibrium.” It now seems that some
biological shifts occur gradually, as Darwin described, whereas others may occur
in rapid spurts following long periods of stasis, or little change. A major theory
such as evolution is modified over time, but the basic tenets of this view have
withstood many tests and offer the best way to understand the emergence of life
and early humans.
Does evolution happen slowly
or quickly?
y
FUNDAMENTALS OF ARCHAEOLOGY
As noted previously, archaeology is the study of our human past, combining the
themes of time and change, using the material remains that have survived. Ar-
chaeology focuses on past human behavior and change in society over time. Ar-
chaeologists study past human culture across an enormous amount of time and
space—essentially, the last several million years and all of the continents except
Antarctica. In one sense, archaeology is the investigation of the choices that our
ancestors made as they evolved from the first humans to the historical present.
Archaeology is also a detective story, a mystery far more complex and
harder to solve than most crimes. The clues to past human behavior are
enigmatic—broken, decomposed, and often missing. Piecing together these bits
of information to make sense of the activities of our ancestors is a challenge. This
challenge—and the ingenuity, technology, and hard work necessary to solve it—
creates both the excitement and the frustration of archaeology.
Archaeology is a fascinating field, in part because the subject matter is
highly diverse and highly human. There are so many times and places involved,
and so many questions to be asked. Archaeology accommodates an extraordinar-
ily wide range of interests: chemistry, zoology, human biology, ceramics, classics,
computers, experiments, geology, history, stone tools, museums, human fossils,
evolution The process of change over
theory, genetics, scuba diving, and much, much more. Many of these subjects are time resulting from shifting conditions of
discussed in the following chapters. the physical and cultural environments,
Another way to regard the nature of archaeology is to consider how it fits involving mechanisms of mutation and
in among academic fields of study. There are different kinds of archaeology, and natural selection.
disciplinary homes vary. Archaeology is usually situated in the social sciences or biological anthropology The study
humanities in a university setting. In the United States, archaeology is usually of the biological nature of our nearest
relatives and ourselves.
part of a Department of Anthropology, which combines archaeology with
cultural anthropology The study of
biological anthropology and cultural anthropology, all focused on humans
living peoples and the shared aspects
and culture. Biological anthropology is the study of the biological nature of our of the human experience.
nearest relatives and ourselves. Biological anthropologists study bones, blood,

Fundamentals of Archaeology 7

anthropological archaeology
(prehistory) Archaeological investiga-
tions that seek to answer fundamental
questions about humans and human
behavior.
historical archaeology Archaeology in
combination with the written record.
artifact Any object or item created or
modified by human action.
site The accumulation of artifacts
and/or ecofacts, representing a place
where people lived or carried out cer-
tain activities.
fieldwork The search for archaeologi-
cal sites in the landscape through sur-
veys and excavations.
survey A systematic search of the
landscape for artifacts and sites on the
ground through aerial photography,
field walking, soil analysis, and geo-
physical prospecting.
excavation The exposure and recording
of buried materials from the past.
8 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
genetics, growth, demography, and other aspects of living and fossil humans and
primates like the monkeys and apes. Cultural, or social, anthropologists study
living peoples and focus on the shared aspects of the human experience, describ-
ing both the differences and the common characteristics that exist.
Archaeology in anthropology departments is sometimes designated as
anthropological archaeology, or prehistory. Anthropological archaeology refers
specifically to archaeological investigations that seek to answer the larger, funda-
mental questions about humans and human behavior that are part of anthropo-
logical enquiry. Prehistory refers to the time of humans before the written record
placed us in history. Many archaeologists do study prehistory, but many also
study literate societies such as the Maya and Aztec, and the urban civilizations of
ancient Mesopotamia and China, where writing began. The term prehistory is
often misused and applied to these early literate civilizations as well. Historical
archaeology—archaeology in combination with the written record—borders on
the field of history and usually refers specifically to the archaeology of civiliza-
tions of the Renaissance and Industrial era.
The Discovery of Archaeological Sites
Archaeologists study change in human culture, from the time of our early ances-
tors to the historical present. Much of the information about the past comes from
artifacts and sites. Artifacts are the objects and materials that people in the past
made and used. Sites are accumulations of such artifacts, representing the places
where people lived or carried out certain activities. The process of discovery,
analysis, and interpretation of artifacts and sites is the basic means through
which archaeologists learn about the past.
Archaeological materials are most often discovered by accident. Digging
and construction activities often uncover prehistoric objects; farmers and individ-
uals in the outdoors come upon artifacts. Amateur archaeologists often know a
great deal about the prehistory of their local areas and frequently find sites while
walking fields. It is essential that these finds be reported to a local historical soci-
ety, museum, or university. The past is too important not to share.
In addition to the chance discoveries, much of the information gathering for
archaeological studies requires fieldwork that is intended to locate artifacts and
sites. Artifacts and sites are found either on the surface or beneath the ground.
Surveys (undertaken by archaeologists to discover artifacts on the ground) and
excavations (used to expose buried materials) are the primary discovery tech-
niques of professional field archaeology.
The discovery of archaeological sites depends in part on what is already
known about the landscape, environment, and history of an area. Before begin-
ning fieldwork, archaeologists check the relevant written material on the time
period and place of interest. That research reveals the present state of knowledge,
indicates what is not known, as well as what is, and helps establish directions for
further research. Such library research is also essential to ensure that investiga-
tions similar to those planned have not already been completed.
The next step is to visit the local historical society or other archaeological in-
stitutions, such as museums or university departments, where records of the area
are maintained. Such institutions generally keep archives of information on the lo-
cation and contents of known archaeological and historical sites. Study of those
archives indicates what types of sites are already known and perhaps their size and
the general content of artifacts. Conversations with local amateur archaeologists
and other interested individuals can provide additional useful information.
Maps are one of the most important tools for fieldwork. Topographic maps
(showing the shape of the land surface with contour or elevation lines) are avail-
able for most areas and contain a great deal of information about longitude and
latitude, elevation, slope, and the location of water, roads, towns, and other
 Figure 1.6 An aerial photograph of
an effigy mound in southern Wiscon-
sin, approximately 800 years old.
The mound has been outlined in
white. See also the aerial photograph
of Poverty Point, Louisiana, in
Figure 5.5.

features. In the United States, the U.S. Geological Survey compiles and distrib-
utes these maps.
Aerial photographs also can provide information on the location of archae-
ological sites (Figure 1.6). Old foundations or prehistoric agricultural fields, over-
grown with vegetation and almost hidden on the surface, may appear in aerial
photographs. When prehistoric structures were originally abandoned, the de-
pressions often filled with rich topsoil, which provides better growth conditions
for vegetation. In fields of wheat, for example, such different soil conditions
might result in a distinctive pattern showing the outlines of houses or whole
villages. In many parts of the world, such patterns are best observed from low-
flying planes during a dry period in the early summer.
The next step in discovering the past involves fieldwork. An archaeological
survey is a systematic search of the landscape for artifacts and sites (Figure 1.7).
It is not always possible to make a complete survey of the entire area under in-
vestigation, because roads, forests, other vegetation, or construction often covers
substantial parts of the landscape. It may be possible to thoroughly survey only a
portion of the entire area, but that portion should be representative of the larger
region under investigation. The larger the proportion of the research area that
can be surveyed, the better.
The basic type of archaeological field survey involves systematic field
walking. Field crews walk up and down cultivated fields and exposed surfaces.

Figure 1.7 Field survey in Den-

mark. The small red flags mark the
location of finds on the surface of
the plowed field. This site was from
the Neolithic period.

Fundamentals of Archaeology 9

Figure 1.8 Working a site. Intensive
surface collections are made to pick
up artifacts that may help date the
site. One archaeologist holds a stadia
rod used to measure the elevation.
10 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
The intervals between the walks are determined by the size of the sites that may
be in the area and the nature of the ground cover.
When an artifact is found, it is put in a bag, and the location of the find is
recorded (Figure 1.8). The surrounding area should be searched carefully by
walking back and forth at close intervals. It is important to determine whether the
object is a single, isolated find or whether there are more artifacts. Surveyors also
look for unusual discolorations on the surface that might indicate features such as
fireplaces or pits. It is important to establish the area covered by artifacts to deter-
mine the size of the site and to obtain an estimate of the density of artifacts.
Information must be recorded about each find. These field notes should
include such information as (1) location, site number, map number, which field,
and position in the field; (2) the archaeological material found: types and number
of artifacts, fire-cracked stones, charcoal, and so on; and (3) observations about the
site—for example, discolorations in the soil that could indicate cultural layers or pits,
the presence of mounds, stone foundations or walls, nearby streams or other sources
of water, and other pertinent environmental information.
Archaeological remains are often buried beneath the sediments that have
accumulated since their deposition. Objects found on the surface often have been
brought up from deeper layers through agricultural or animal activities. Such
materials usually provide only a partial indication of the information that can be
obtained from a buried site.
Once buried sites have been located by survey and have been mapped,
other kinds of fieldwork can be undertaken to learn more about them. Boring
into the ground with an auger or corer brings up a column of soil showing the
sequence of layers and samples of sediments at the site. Small test pits, perhaps
1 × 1 m in size, dug into the ground can provide similar information and may be
necessary to determine if a buried site is present. A number of borings and/or
test pits often are made, following a regular pattern over the surface of the site.
Soil samples should be collected from all parts of the site and at varying depths.
Physical and chemical analysis of soil samples may provide information
about the origins of the deposits, the water content and fertility of the soil, the
amount of organic material, and the basic chemistry of the soil. These studies
may provide further information on environmental and human activities involved
in the formation and burial of the site and help to explain the conditions of
preservation.
Phosphate analysis of the sediments from a site may reveal traces of human
activities. Phosphate is found in bone, feces, urine, and other organic matters that
accumulate in and around human habitation. Phosphate appears as a strong blue
color in the soil sample when hydrochloric acid and ascorbic acid are added. Areas
with higher concentrations of phosphate show up as stronger blue colors in such
analyses. Phosphate testing may supplement surface surveys in areas where vege-
tation prevents observations of the surface or where cultural layers are buried
deep under the topsoil. Within a known habitation area, these tests may be used to
determine the extent of the site and to detect special areas such as house floors.
Other objects in the soil also are informative. Materials found in soil sam-
ples often include pieces of wood and plants, seeds, fragments of insects, mollusk
shells, hair, or chips of bone or stone. Such items provide information on the for-
mation of the layers, the local environment, and the nature of past human activi-
ties. For example, if small chips that result from the manufacture of arrowheads
and other stone tools are present in borings and test pits, it is likely that tools
were made or used in the vicinity and that other buried artifacts are present.
Geophysical prospecting can be used to detect disturbances in the subsoil
and the presence of prehistoric features. These methods include measurements of
magnetic variations in the ground and of the electrical conductivity (resistivity)
of the soil, and the use of ground-penetrating radar. Metal detectors, for example,
register the presence of metal objects on the surface and buried in the soil. Metal
detectors emit an electromagnetic field that is disrupted by the presence of metal
 Antenna

Wall
(a) (b) (c)

objects in the ground. Magnetometers can provide a map of the magnetic anom- Figure 1.9 Georadar in action.
alies in the ground and are very useful for finding buried structures. (a) Lawrence Conyers and assistant
The use of ground-penetrating radar (GPR or georadar) is standard practice pulling the ground-penetrating
on many archaeological excavations to look for features and structures before ex- radar (GPR) across an open area at
Petra. (b) Schematic drawing of the
cavation. The use of ground-penetrating radar is a technique for studying buried
instrument in use, emitting micro-
archaeological sites (Figure 1.9). Electromagnetic waves in the form of georadar
waves and measuring the response
are sent into the ground, something like the sonar used in submarine hunts. Low- with an antenna. (c) A computer-
energy radar waves register anomalies in the subsoil, which are shown on a map generated display of the results of
or a graph. Excavation is often required to identify such irregularities. the magnetometer survey showing
In sum, prehistoric sites are often found through a combination of archival the outline of a rectangular structure
research and fieldwork. Archival research provides information on what is al- buried in the middle of the open
ready known about an area. Fieldwork often results in the discovery of the area. Test pits at this location re-
unknown. When new sites are discovered, surface survey, testing, boring, and vealed that stone walls were being
several geophysical methods are available to determine the size and possible con- recorded by the GPR.
tents of the prehistoric deposit. However, once a site is discovered and defined
from the surface, excavations are often necessary to expose what lies beneath the
surface of the ground.

Archaeological Excavation
Excavation is the technique that archaeologists use to uncover buried remains
from the past. Buried materials usually are more abundant and better preserved
than those found on the surface. In excavations, accurate information can be ob-
w w w. m h h e . c o m / p r i c e i p 7 e
served on the arrangement and relationships of structures, artifacts, plant and
animal remains, and other materials. The term in situ (Latin, “in place”) is used to For a Web-based activity on the opening
of the tomb of Tutankhamen, see the
describe archaeological remains in their original position of deposition. Internet exercises on your online learn-
Excavation often is essential to obtain more information about the past. ing center.
Excavations are conducted to answer specific questions that the archaeologist
would like to answer: Who lived at the site? What did they eat? What did they do?
Where did they get raw materials for making tools and equipment? What kinds of
relations did they have with their neighbors? How was their society organized and
structured? How did they understand the world around them? and so on.

The Excavation Director The direction of an excavation requires a variety of

skills and knowledge for planning the field season, raising money to pay for the
work, supervising and training a crew of volunteers or students, recording the
information from the site with drawings and photographs, and measuring and ground-penetrating radar (GPR
mapping the location of all finds, samples, and features (Figure 1.10). The direc- or georadar) An instrument for re-
mote sensing or prospecting for buried
tor must monitor progress in the field laboratory as well, where finds are washed,
structures using radar maps of subsoil
sorted, cataloged, and bagged for storage. Some knowledge of preservation tech- features.
niques is necessary to conserve fragile objects.
Fundamentals of Archaeology 11

Figure 1.10 Excavations at a Meso-
lithic site in Denmark. Measuring,
recording, studying.
12 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
Excavations require reams of drawings, recordings, and other paperwork.
The director must keep an excavation log or diary, recording the course of the
excavation, the work schedule, the number of people working, accounts of ex-
penses, dimensions and positioning of excavation areas, layout of the measuring
system, and all finds. There must be recording systems for all measurements, for
observations and interpretations, and for all drawings, photos, and samples.
The Field Crew Archaeology is the science of the past, but it is also a social expe-
rience in the present. Excavation is a labor-intensive undertaking, and the field
crew is the most important part of the project. This crew is a group of individuals
involved in the actual digging process, unearthing the sites and artifacts. Crews
are composed of a variety of individuals, young and old, ranging from profes-
sional archaeologists with advanced degrees to undergraduate and graduate stu-
dents, and sometimes people just interested in the subject.
Fieldwork can require a few days, weeks, or months and can involve walk-
ing miles each day with one’s head down in a survey of the ground or moving
tons of earth to expose buried levels. Excavations are hard work, often in the hot
sun. Frequently, they are carried out in remote places, requiring patience and en-
durance. Archaeology is also good dirty fun, and the experience of working, and
relaxing, with others who enjoy the same things can be unforgettable. The dis-
covery process is captivating, and sharing that excitement with colleagues and
comrades enhances the entire experience.
Fieldwork is, finally, an extraordinary learning experience. One realizes the
difficulties involved in recovering information from the past and comes to appre-
ciate what has been previously learned. In addition, a constant stream of ques-
tions about the past and the significance of place, artifact, and context comes to
mind during the process. All in all, archaeological fieldwork can be one of the
most stimulating activities there is.
Selecting Sites for Excavation The choice of which site to excavate is deter-
mined by several factors, including potential danger to the archaeological
remains. Archaeological sites are being destroyed at a rapid rate by the growth
and development of modern civilization, and there is a serious and real con-
cern about the loss of undisturbed sites for future research. Sites threatened by
modern construction are often good candidates for excavation. The rescue exca-
vation, intended to save information from such sites, is the most common type
of project taking place today.
Sites are also chosen for excavation because they appear to be well preserved
or to contain new information that will help us to better understand the prehis-
tory of a particular region. The choice of a site for excavation is often based on
the results of a survey. An initial survey of an area, including coring and testing,
may indicate that one or several sites would be worth excavating. Careful surface
collection and testing must be carried out at the site selected for excavation to
make sure the site can provide the kinds of information that are needed and to
assist in planning the excavation.
Historical archives may be studied over and over again, but archaeological
sites are nonrenewable resources, like endangered species. Excavations involve
moving the earth and all its contents from a site. Every excavation means the
destruction of all or part of an archaeological site. All that is left when an excavation
is over are the finds themselves, the unexcavated parts of the site, and the samples,
photographs, drawings, measurements, and other notes that the archaeologists
made. Accurate notes and records of the layers, structures, and artifacts at a site are
essential, not only for the investigator, but also to create a permanent archive of
information about the site that is available to others (Figure 1.11).
The contents of a particular site are a matter of preservation (Figure 1.12).
Important factors in preservation include the age of the site, the effects of erosion
 Figure 1.11 Archaeological field
notes: two pages of information on
an Alaskan koniag house and its
features.

THEN
Figure 1.12 The vagaries of preser-
vation. Organic materials—wood,
bones, features, antlers, hides, and
the like—rarely survive in archaeo-
logical sites. The upper drawing
shows some original material from
the Stone Age in Scandinavia, in-
cluding fishing and hunting spears,
fishing nets, clubs and axes, a bow
and arrows, baskets and bags, neck-
laces and pendants, and other tools.
The lower drawing shows what
would remain after the organic ma-
terial decayed: the stone arrowheads,
an axe, and the stone weights for the
fishing net—only a tiny part of the
total equipment that was in use in
the past.

NOW

Fundamentals of Archaeology 13

Figure 1.13 A total station in use
mapping an archaeological site in
the highlands of Peru. Two members
of the field crew work at the total
station, and two others are locating
and marking map points with the
reflecting target for the total station.
The total station uses a laser beam to
measure the distance and angle be-
tween the instrument and the target
and then calculates the exact posi-
tion of the target.
w w w. m h h e . c o m / p r i c e i p 7 e
For a Web-based activity on the inno-
vative area of GIS, see the Internet exer-
cises on your online learning center.
bioturbation Activities of plants and
animals in the earth, causing distur-
bance of archaeological materials.
total station A computerized surveying
and mapping instrument that uses
a laser beam or radio waves to measure
the distance and angle between the
instrument and the target and then
calculates the exact position of
the target.
archaeological record The body of
material and information that survives
for archaeologists to study.
context The association and relation-
ships between archaeological objects
that are in the same place.
14 Chapter 1 Principles of Archaeology
and deposition, bioturbation, and conditions of humidity and acidity. Archaeo-
logical sites vary from excellent conditions of almost complete preservation in
extremely wet or arid conditions to poor acidic situations where almost nothing
is left but inorganic objects of stone, pottery, and perhaps charcoal. Examples of
extraordinary preservation can be seen in the Tollund Man from the waterlogged
bogs of Denmark (see Figure 9.49) and the Iceman from the frozen glaciers of
Alpine Italy (see Figure 9.10). Very old sites from the Paleolithic rarely have good
conditions for preservation, and thus only stone tools and occasionally bones are
preserved.
It is important to know as much as possible about a site before full-scale
excavation in order to choose the best strategy for the project. At every excava-
tion, the archaeologist is faced with a series of decisions about how to achieve the
most and best-documented information. Under ideal circumstances, a site could
be fully excavated and everything recorded in the finest detail. In the real world,
however, constraints on time and funding and a need to leave a portion of the
site for future archaeologists make it standard practice to excavate only a part of
the total site.
Maps and Grids Accurate mapping of layers and artifacts is the key to the
proper recording of information at an archaeological excavation. The exact
topography, or shape, of the site must be recorded in the form of an accurate con-
tour map made using a surveyor’s level and the site grid. A grid is marked out
across the surface of a site before excavation. This grid should be used for all
horizontal measurements. A site grid represents a coordinate system, usually
with lines running north-south and east-west at regular intervals. Intervals along
the two axes of the grid are designated with a system of letters or numbers or
both. The grid lines and measurements within each grid square are measured
as distances in meters and centimeters north and east of the baselines at the edge
of the excavations.
The site grid may also be oriented according to local topography or ar-
chaeological features such as mounds or middens. At coastal sites, trenches are
sometimes excavated perpendicular to the coastline to study layers and site for-
mation in relation to the coast. In a narrow cave, the grid is often aligned to the
long axis of the cave.
Location of the site and the site grid in relation to global latitude and longi-
tude must be determined. A control point, or site datum, must be located in the
neighborhood of the excavation as a point of origin for vertical measurements.
A preexisting datum point, such as a surveyor’s benchmark, may be used if
available. Otherwise, a permanent feature, such as a rock outcrop or a building
foundation, may be marked and used as the datum point. The location and eleva-
tion of this point must be established in relation to known points, such as geo-
graphic features or distant benchmarks.
Vertical location in the excavation is best determined using a surveying in-
strument, set at a known elevation, and sighting on a vertical measuring rod.
Measurements at the site should be converted to meters above sea level, or the
elevation of the datum line may simply be recorded. In archaeology today, a total
station is normally used to electronically map the site, record elevations, and de-
termine the location of architecture, features, and artifacts (Figure 1.13).
Context, Association, and Provenience
The body of evidence that archaeologists work with is part of the archaeological
record—the information about the past that has survived to the present. This
record includes both past materials and the context in which they are found.
Context is an essential aspect of archaeological information. Context involves
the association and relationships between objects that are in the same place.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN