I Volunteered for This?! Life on an Archaeological Dig
things as a flashlight (never used), a clothesline and
clothespins (often used for one of the most popular
forms of entertainment on the dig—laundry), a fourinch Marshalltown mason’s trowel (a variety not available in Israel), some “Lomotil” (for my gastronomical
adventures), mosquito repellent (a most needed item
as Israeli mosquitoes rival those in my home state for
their voraciousness), a heavy pair of hiking boots I’d
purchased as work boots (sandals don’t offer enough
protection in the field), a canteen, sunglasses, clothing to work in, relax in, explore Israel in, and more.
On my head was a large-brimmed straw hat I’d worn
since leaving the States; on my shoulder was a bag
filled with camera equipment, and in my heart was a
feeling of apprehension.
I had chosen to go on this dig not knowing anyone, a decision I wondered about as a group of us sat
staring at one another while waiting on the hostel
lawn for our room assignments and asking questions
like: “Is this your first dig?” (Hopefully those of us
who asked this would find other novices who were in
the same predicament.) “Where are you from?” “Does
anybody know what’s going on here?”
Crystal Loudenback
Surveyors at Tel Ira measure a level. As a dig progresses the surveyor’s
measurements help relate the various excavation areas to one another so
that occupation levels from a particular period can be identified in different locations. Beyond the surveyors are the remains of a Roman fort.
By dinner time that first evening, things started
taking shape. Room assignments had been given out
and I found myself one of four women in room 32. We were more fortunate than many of the others as we had our own
private bathroom instead of having to walk to the communal facilities at the end of the building. The other furnishings in
our room consisted of one bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling, a desk with a broken chair, three single cots and a bunk
bed. Later we were joined by another roommate in the top bunk. The room also came equipped with a family of cockroaches and a hoard of mosquitoes. My roommates were associated with Allegheny College; the bugs had no alma mater.
After dinner, Dr. Kochavi and Dr. Hobson introduced Tel Ira to us and
explained what would be expected of us as volunteers. Only later did I realize the
full impact of their words.
The next day started with a 4:30 a.m. wakeup: “Boker tov” (Hebrew for
Good Morning) spoken with a British accent as Peter, a volunteer from England,
made his early morning rounds. My first breakfast of bread, jam and tea followed
at 4:45. The bus left for the tell at 5:00.
The bus ride was not a typical jaunt to the countryside. Our transportation
was often a lorry of ancient vintage with four rows of padded benches running the
length of the vehicle. We would pack ourselves, our day’s food and water, and our
equipment side-by-side, hoping that we all made it. While the first part of the trip
followed smooth, paved roads, the last nine kilometers took us over rugged desert
terrain. At this time of the morning most of our crew was still sleepy and we tried
to catch a few additional moments of rest. However, bouncing our way across the
first wadi (a dry river bed) was enough to discourage all but the most determined
nappers. Those of us not sleeping took it upon ourselves to make sure that the nappers didn’t fly off their seats unexpectedly.
For some reason we never seemed to keep a bus driver for long. One theory
was that the drivers were fearful for the “lives” of their buses—and our lives
weren’t really a consideration in the matter.
Crystal Loudenback
The oldest volunteer at Tel Ira, Bob
Kaufman, p