1) Why projects that rely on volunteers assume said volunteers understand the purpose and importance as well as passionate apologists
2) Why archeological digs employ a hierarchical organizational style that creates distinct group divisions and privileges rank
3) Why digs are run like boot-camp and tacitly cultivate a "suck it up" culture
4) How a leader can expect volunteers to work without regular expressions of encouragement and appreciation
5) The notion that a project is more important then the people who make it possible; I appreciate focus but not at the expense of individual well-being
I do know some things:
1) I can become enthusiastic about a well-articulated vision, even someone else's
2) While I contribute hours of manual labor, I still appreciate inclusion in discussions held at the edge of my square, literally over my head, regarding the progress being made; I have a brain as well as strong arms
3) I'm a sucker for kindness and words of encouragement
4) Flexibility, a bit of fun and variety, compassion, and egalitarianism mean a lot to me
5) Limited sleep and physical duress profoundly affect my view of any situation
6) I can keep working even when feeling marginalized
7) I'm thrilled that we fly home in one week
It's been a tough week. Tuesday, Anita and I experienced something new that left her "Gob-smacked." The dig director and chief archeologist stood in our square and spoke to us about our work. A first. Then they complimented us. Completely disorienting. (We've excavated down to a flag stone surface and interesting mortar stone that resembles a toilet. But it's not. )
Tuesday afternoon we had pottery washing from hell. A core group scrubbed, some beginning right after lunch and others joining at 4:00, until well after 6:00. Light-headed with hunger, I stopped for supper at 6:30. Walking into the dining hall I paused. Ten or twelve people sat eating, without any thought of those still scrubbing. I almost lost my cool. So much for the "We're not done 'til it's all done" pottery-washing motto. I ate and returned to finish the chore. Kindness saved the day. Lizzy, our field supervisor, had helped with the pottery – something other sups consider beneath them, and Anita gave me an amazing back rub to help relieve the knots I've developed.
Windy Wednesday, only not wanting to disappoint my co-workers, Anita and Lizzy, got me up for the day. At the tall, we had our second encouraging visit with compliments. Nice, but still baffling. Just before quitting time, another twist developed. Some complication with the tourist police, who claim that we're tourists rather than volunteers and workers for the Department of Antiquities, meant that we watched our two small school buses drive off while we were still on the tall. We were ferried back to camp in the two rental cars the project directors use. Today, Thursday, negotiations somehow worked out a single school bus that, along with the cars, gets everyone to work and back. Wednesday evening, we joined the La Sierra group for a meal at Kan Zaman, a restaurant built in what was once an Ottoman fort. The name translates: A place in time, a phrase roughly equivalent to "Once upon a time," that begins every good story. Very nice:
Lots of digging. We completed work in Room A1 and drew top plans. Ugh. We removed the balk stub and began taking out the north balk for square 7K24. Lots of broken pottery and Anita found a seal with hash marks. She said she could now die happy.
This week I've worked the sift hoping to avoid further back strain. (I'm so ready for a visit to the chiropractor and massage therapist.) Today, Ken and I rode in a car – to and from the tall. It felt odd. Yes, I appreciated it, but riding in air conditioning while most of our fellow proletariat rode in the crowded bus, made me suspect myself as a possible elitist.
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