Accepting an invitation for tea, coffee, or food was an obligation to eat or drink whatever you were offered. To do otherwise was to insult your host. Some visitors thought they could beg off food they considered unpleasant, like a chunk of fat from the tail of a fat-tailed sheep, by claiming vegetarianism. If this were not true and the visitor later ate any meat during his or her stay in the area, it became immediate village gossip and both the host and his village were dishonored by this visible rejection of their hospitality. The visitor was never believed again. It was also considered ill manners to eat in one house and then accept another invitation for the same meal or to eat in the village and return to your camp for an additional meal or snack. This double dipping broadcast to the community that you had found the hospitality of your first host inadequate and was considered a grave insult. I remember with great embarrassment an incident when I took a fellow excavator to drink coffee with the Bedouin. He asked for boiling water and used it to clean the communal coffee cup before drinking from it. This extra-hygienic flourish, offensive both to his host and the assembled guests, was fortunately considered so outrageous that it eventually became a community joke.
Such finicky behavior would rightly be destructive to one’s reputation with people of the village. Nor was there any reason for it. If, for instance, you were served the gelatinous eye of a sheep plucked from the socket of the cooked beast you could force yourself to swallow it in spite of the determined resistance of your esophagus.
All sorts of noises, some of which are considered bad manners elsewhere, are permitted at dinner. Belching, smacking your lips, making loud sucking or chomping noises with your mouth show that you relish the food and can be used as cover during the contest between your will and your stomach.
Because foreigners were unusual in these villages and camps, almost all village men would soon join us at our host’s to drink tea, talk, and ask questions. This initial encounter could be time consuming, sometimes lasting three or four hours. It took less time in small villages than in larger ones because of the number of people present, for it was essential to the honor of our hosts that they follow the rules of hospitality precisely. Only after every rule had been observed and every person present been given the opportunity to welcome me and ask their questions could I ask mine. Everyone was eager to be helpful, and often arguments would break out over exactly how something I was inquiring about was done, how something was used, how much it cost, and so on. I collected information, even that which was contradictory. When everyone had finished their say on the subject, I tried to identify people in the village who had actually made or used each item, and then I would make appointments to return and watch the artifact’s manufacture and use. Often this meant returning to the same village several times while investigating a single class of objects, because I tried to watch everyone regularly involved perform the process from beginning to end.
Careful Observation
I must emphasize the importance of the visual aspect of ethnoarchaeology. Only repeated, concentrated observation over long periods of time helps us escape a variety of pitfalls: our own preconceptions; the multitudinous snares of relying on biased, ignorant, or culture-protective informants; the danger of questionnaires, which can be intentionally or accidentally designed to elicit what the designers predetermine they want to hear; or the formulation rather than sampling of opinion.
How we see things depends on our point of view. Our preconceptions arise from our own cultural bias and what we have read or been told by “experts.” Of the two, what we have been told by “experts,” a phenomenon often unrecognized, is the more destructive of true understanding. From early childhood through old age, many of us accept without question concepts and solutions provided us by the books we read, the television or movies we see, and the opinions favored by our friends, relatives, and teachers. So powerful is the effect of this lifelong reliance on “experts” and “expert opinion” that I have observed extremely bright college students watch a video of pottery making three or four times before realizing that major aspects of the process are different from the way I described it to them moments before.
What we are capable of seeing depends on our ability to suspend routine processing of visual images. In everyday life, most of us observe phenomena only long enough to classify them and assess their immediate utility or meaning. This transitory glance helps us avoid the paralysis that would result from sensory overload had we to absorb and analyze every visual detail we perceived before we could respond. Fortunately speedy absorption of detail and comprehension are easily taught for most kinds of visual stimuli. Courses in speed reading and reading comprehension have in particular enjoyed considerable success.
The camera is also useful in helping us see clearly. A recording of an ethnographic process on file can be viewed repeatedly. The mistakes of interpretation made the first viewing can be corrected at a later showing. A film can serve as a training tool for students and also help the ethnoarchaeologist verify previous observations or discover new aspects that escaped observation in the field. Using cameras for studying ethnographic detail, however, is not necessarily the same as the production of an ethnographic or documentary film. In the former one focuses the camera and lets it run through every aspect of a process no matter how repetitive or boring. In the latter a producer or director often edits the material to present effectively a particular message or point of view and to take into account the normal span of audience attention. Today the easy availability of movie or video cameras makes them an important research tool. In the late 1960s in Iraq restrictions on their import and use and the cost of the equipment made them impractical. Still cameras, however, were an acceptable import, and shooting snapshots throughout a process of artifact manufacture or use proved extremely useful.
Clarity of perception is equally important in understanding the cultural significance or impact of change. Sometimes we can observe changes but lack understanding. Other times change is not easily seen, yet it is obvious from subsequent behavior or occurrences that important changes have taken place. Sometimes dramatic changes that appear major turn out to be minor, and sometimes changes that appear minor have significant cultural impact. Based on my experience at al-Hiba, I feel certain that the investigator must actually be present just before, or at the time when, major cultural changes occur in order to understand fully their significance or their structure. It is in community actions and deliberations that take place during the contemplation of these changes and in their initial processes that real issues and factors are weighed and discussed. A good example of this can be found in the discussion of change from mud to plastic toys (see p.89). Although afterward people attributed the change to the durability and color of the plastic, the primary motivating factor and its enforcement depended on aspects of family honor (see p. 88–9).
Since in ethnography the investigator deals with a living culture it is possible to explore actions and opinions of each member of the group provided they are willing to explain these to you. With perseverance one is able to understand the significance to the villagers individually and collectively of what we observe. This immediacy of understanding is not possible for the archaeologist, who must rely for his or her elucidations on those few artifacts preserved, his or her interpretations of their contexts, and whatever written documentation exists. The complexity of results from ethnoarchaeological research cautions archaeologists against over reliance on or easy acceptance of simple theoretical constructs to explain the nature, function, and significance of artifactual evidence.
Long-term,