Islamic Bayda Project, Season 2016

By Micaela Sinibaldi

The third season of the Islamic Bayda Project took place from July to August 2016 and was again affiliated with the Council for British Research in the Levant. The Palestine Exploration Fund has generously co-funded the project since its first season; this support has been essential to reaching our important results.

This season, a larger team was in the field than in former years. In addition to a team of international and Jordanian volunteers, archaeology students from Cardiff University joined as part of their courses and trained in archaeological documentation and excavation. As usual, the project included local team members from the Ammarin tribe from Bayda, whose experience in excavating in Bayda from the former seasons was crucial to the team.

Fig. 1: The location of Islamic Bayda in relation to Petra, from the 1st edition of Jane Taylor’s Petra (London 1993).

This season was very exciting, as receiving funding for six weeks allowed the team to complete the excavation of Mosque 2, dated to the Late Islamic period, which we had started excavating in 2015. While in 2015 we had uncovered the mihrab (niche pointing to Mecca) of the mosque and its southern part, this season we uncovered the mosque entrance and its northern part. The good state of preservation allowed a detailed reconstruction of the architecture of the mosque. Particularly interesting was discovering that one of the arches supporting the roof had collapsed in such a way to allow reconstructing its height and curve, and therefore the height of the mosque. The evidence from this campaign confirmed the hypothesis that the mosque had been destroyed by an earthquake.

The team also carried on a survey of modern villages in the region and visited houses of the modern Ammarin village in Bayda and Dana and observed that there the construction techniques have many elements in common with the buildings excavated at Islamic Bayda. In addition to sampling organic material from selected stratigraphic units, we also took samples for micromorphological analysis of the stratigraphy. We also investigated parts of Mosque 1 and its relationship to the earlier phases, which had been detected in the 2015 season.

Fig. 2: The team practicing excavation and documentation in Mosque 1 (photo by Micaela Sinibaldi).

Fig. 3: Study of local building techniques at the nearby Ammarin village (photo by Sarah Elliott).

The project had numerous visits this season, as the news have been spreading about our important discovery: the first mosque ever excavated in Petra, and, moreover, in very good conditions of preservation. We had visitors from the Petra Park, the Department of Antiquities, the Hussein Bin Talal University in Petra, children from a workshop organized by the Petra National Trust, and a one-day visit by a team from the Council for British Research in the Levant, including Carol Palmer, the Director of the British Institute in Amman, and a group of staff and research fellows, who have helped with their expertise in advising on sampling for laboratory analysis. After the end of the season, a presentation on the Islamic Bayda Project was also part of a special day organized by the Council for British Research in the Levant on the cultural heritage in Bayda and the potential of involving its community in its promotion.

On our weekly day off, Friday, the team was as always free to relax and enjoy several well-deserved trips to Petra and other sites, like Aqaba, and camping weekends in the beautiful Petra region. Congratulations to the team for this excellent season which has allowed accomplishing all the original goals!

Fig. 4: Weekend trip to Dana Natural Reserve (photo by Micaela Sinibaldi).

Fig. 5: Presentation of the results from Mosque 2 to the local community (photo by Qais Tweissi).

Medieval Metalwork in Bilād al-Shām

By Gregory Bilotto

Through the generous support of the Palestine Exploration Fund, I was able to visit two mediaeval Islamic archaeological sites and the metal artefacts recovered from their subsequent excavations for my research in metalwork in Bilād al-Shām (the Levant). These two sites, Ḳayṣāriyya (Caesarea) and Ṭabariyya (Tiberias), have provided the largest quantities of metalwork datable to the Fāţimid period (909-1172 CE).

My interest in mediaeval Islamic metalwork stemmed from working in numerous archaeological excavations completing my MA degree in Islamic architecture while living in Cairo, Egypt. My graduate studies focused the architecture of the Fāţimids – a dynasty that reached ultimate feats in structure and design.

Fāţimid decorative arts, principally the often-overlooked study of metalwork, also helped express these accomplishments. It was Fāţimid artisans’ metalwork production in mediaeval Bilād al-Shām, Ifrīḳiya (North Africa) and Miṣr (Egypt) that inspired me to continue my research in the doctoral programme at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies.

Fig. 1. Copper-alloy vessels, 11th century CE cache Ṭabariyya, Israel Museum.
Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Na’ama Brosh.

Travelling from London to Jerusalem, my research brought me to the archaeological sites, but also to several museums in the Holy City. The Israel Museum, which contained a large quantity of the excavated metal objects (Fig. 1), had among its collection a copper-alloy and enamel vessel with human figural decoration. This type of decoration and enamel technique is exceptionally rare as there are no related examples from the Fāţimid period.

Fig. 2. Fāţimid copper-alloy vessel with human figural decoration in enamel, Israel Museum. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Na’ama Brosh.

After holding this precious metal vessel in my hands, carefully examining the facial expressions and epigraphy, there is no doubt that it represents the epitome of Fāţimid art, which is truly incredible (Fig. 2). I also had the opportunity to visit the museum store administered by the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) in Bet Shemesh, outside Jerusalem (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. A view of the IAA store, Bet Shemesh. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Ayala Lester.

The store holds the remainder of the excavated metalwork, mostly consisting of tools and scrap. These objects were extremely helpful in determining centres of metalwork production and technique (Fig. 4). My research continued in Jerusalem with examination of several mediaeval Islamic metal vessels at the Rockefeller Archaeological Museum and a unique Fāţimid metal object at the Leo Aryeh Mayer Museum of Islamic Art.

Fig. 4. Copper-alloy scrap, 11th century CE Ṭabariyya, IAA store. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Ayala Lester.

Arriving at the ruined mediaeval city of Ḳayṣāriyya for the first time, I was amazed and awed. The majestic coastal city has an exotic and almost tropical quality (Fig. 5). The living history was tangible, with years of habitation from the Romans to the Ottoman Empire, one can imagine ships and armies of conquest arriving throughout time.

Fig. 5. A northern view, Ḳayṣāriyya, with its antique and mediaeval ruins. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016.

The metal cache I was interested in was secreted away during the 11th century CE – a time when one of these conquering armies was invading; another such event occurred at Ṭabariyya.  I noted many unpublished details about the geography during my visit, and examining the findspot for the cache of metalwork was not only exciting but extremely helpful in placing the material in context (Fig. 6).

Fig. 6. Findspot of the Fāţimid metal cache, Ḳayṣāriyya. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016.

Further Reading

Arnon, Y., et al. 1999. ‘The Fatimid Hoard from Caesarea: A Preliminary Report’, in M. Barrucand (ed), L’ Égypte Fatimide: son art et son histoire, Paris: Presse l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 233-48.

Hirschfeld, Y., et al. 2008. Tiberias Excavations in the House of the Bronzes, Final Report

Volume I: Architecture, Stratigraphy and Small Finds, (Qedem 48), Jerusalem: Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Khamis, E., 2013. The Fatimid Metalwork Hoard from Tiberias: Excavations in the House of the Bronzes, Final Report Volume II, (Qedem 55), Jerusalem: Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Rosen-Ayalon, M., 2013. ‘A Unique Metal Object from Tiberias’, Atiqot 76, 173-81.

Stacey, D., et al. 2004. Excavations at Tiberias 1973-1974: The Early Islamic Periods, (IAA Reports 21), Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority.

 

Miscellanea of Duncan Mackenzie

By Sarah Irving

This summer, a travel grant from the Palestine Exploration Fund allowed me to spend some time in London, rifling through the PEF’s archives for traces of Yusif ‘Abu Selim’ Khazin and Yusif Khattar Kanaan, two Lebanese Christian overseers who, between 1890 and World War One, worked on the Fund’s excavations.

My primary interest, and the focus of this piece of research, is the role of Arabs working on archaeological digs in Palestine in the Late Ottoman period. The standard view of the archaeology of this period tends to focus on a single (white, educated, male) leader who makes pioneering discoveries and to whom all credit for a dig accrues. As future publications emerging from this research will show, this image often does not hold up under scrutiny of the daily records and personal writings of excavators and their staff and visitors. I think that the two Yusifs – as well as many other non-Westerners who contributed to British, American, German and French archaeological digs in the Holy Land pre-WWI – were actually important figures, not only in the practical, day-to-day running of the excavations, but also at times in how finds were understood and interpreted.

One part of my approach to this issue has been to look at the networks of contact and knowledge exchange which happened, not only in formal, academic settings but also in informal environments. Much of my focus has been on the writings and activities of Frederick J. Bliss and R.A.S. Macalister, as the two longest-serving PEF excavation leaders at the time. In this blog, though, I want to show a couple of small, rather peripheral, but also quite fascinating and indicative objects which emerged from the archives.

The first is a pair of calling-cards found in a wallet belonging to Duncan Mackenzie. Mackenzie was a Scottish archaeologist, best-known for his work with Sir Arthur Evans at Knossos in Crete. After Macalister’s resignation from the PEF to take up his chair at University College Dublin in 1909. Although Mackenzie had a reputation as a brilliant field archaeologist, he was also a difficult character; in a 1996 article for Palestine Exploration Quarterly, Nicoletta Momigliano described his time at the Fund’s Ain Shams dig as one of “conflicting interests and expectations, of misunderstandings and self-delusions, of wounded pride and dysentery. It is not a ‘success’ story”.

Calling-cards bestowed on Mackenzie by Boulus Said of “The Palestine Educational Store, Jaffa Road” and Gustaf Dalman, styling him “Rector of the German Archaeological Institute, Consul to His Majesty the King of the Swedes, Goths and Wends, and to the King of Denmark”. (PEF-DA-MACK-313.01 – 03)

Calling-cards bestowed on Mackenzie by Boulus Said of “The Palestine Educational Store, Jaffa Road” and Gustaf Dalman, styling him “Rector of the German Archaeological Institute, Consul to His Majesty the King of the Swedes, Goths and Wends, and to the King of Denmark”. (PEF-DA-MACK-313.01 – 03)

The calling-cards reflect, however, a different aspect of Mackenzie’s time in Palestine, his interactions with the intellectual and social milieu of Late Ottoman Jerusalem. Jerusalem is often painted a somewhat of a backwater, especially in contrast with Cairo and Beirut, the thriving centres of the Arabic Nahda, or renaissance. But the city saw much coming-and-going of Western scholars, missionaries, diplomats and businessmen, as well as a more stable population of local Arabs and Jews engaged in thinking, writing, studying and publishing. Mackenzie met many people from each of these overlapping social worlds, as these cards demonstrate.

The first was given to him by Boulus Said. Boulus owned the Palestine Educational Bookshop (the precursor to the Educational Bookshop on Salah Eddin Street, beloved of many visitors to present-day Jerusalem).  In his study of Palestinian books and literacy Reading Palestine, Ami Ayalon estimates that Boulus Said founded the bookshop around 1910 – so when he handed Duncan Mackenzie this card he had only recently set up his store. Later, on his return from the USA, Boulus’ cousin Wadie (later William) joined the business and established a branch in Cairo; Wadie is probably best-known as father of the great Palestinian scholar Edward Said.

The Palestine Educational Bookshop was not only one of the first bookstores and stationers in the country. It was also a publisher, and the company name appears on many works from the Mandate era, in both Arabic and English. A rival Jerusalem bookshop, the Andalus, advertised the fact that it could source books from Cairo within 24 hours, ordering via telegraph and receiving them through the railway which passed through Gaza and Jaffa to arrive in Jerusalem; there seems little reason why the Educational, with its Cairo branch, could not have performed similar feats. Certainly newspaper adverts highlight its range of international titles.

The presence of a calling-card from Boulus Said in Mackenzie’s wallet, therefore, represents a beginning – an early moment in the development of a significant cultural and intellectual phenomenon in pre-1948 Jerusalem, and the linkage of that moment to some of the most important figures in twentieth-century Palestinian history. The second calling-card, though, represents something more like an ending. It came from Gustaf Dalman, a German Orientalist, theologian and ethnographer.

In the 1890s and 1910s Dalman had lived and worked in Palestine (he also, early in his career, applied to become a Free Church of Scotland missionary there), and published major works on, in particular, the Aramaic language, Hebrew theology, and Christianity. At this point in time, German researchers were producing some of the most important scholarship on both contemporary and historic Palestine, and Dalman was foremost amongst them. But soon after Mackenzie left Palestine in 1913, WWI saw German influence in the Middle East (via its ally, the Ottoman Empire), collapse.

The American archaeologist WF Albright recorded just after the war that Dalman had returned to Jerusalem, but that his rivals amongst the British and French scholars in the city were trying to have his passport revoked. The portrait Albright’s letters paint of Dalman is of a rather sad and isolated figure. Mackenzie’s collection of cards, therefore, bears witness not only to the rise of a distinctive Palestinian literary and social milieu with Boulus Said, but also to the decline of Germany’s heyday in the Ottoman-ruled Holy Land.

Caption: A well-travelled envelope carrying a letter to Duncan Mackenzie, via Cairo, Wadi Halfa and back to Alexandria. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: A well-travelled envelope carrying a letter to Duncan Mackenzie, via Cairo, Wadi Halfa and back to Alexandria. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: Reverse side of the envelope showing further stamps. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: Reverse side of the envelope showing further stamps. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

The final small item also represents an ending, although on lesser scale. A little envelope, addressed to Mackenzie (care of the Thomas Cook travel agency), it is liberally covered with the stamps of postal offices stretching from Alexandria, via Cairo and Wadi Halfa, to Khartoum, and finally stamped ‘Unclaimed’. All date from 1913, and show it to be a remnant of the PEF’s attempts to contact Mackenzie during his employment on a dig in Sudan that year.

By this time he was embroiled in an acrimonious dispute with the Fund over the terms under which his employment had been terminated and his failure to deliver excavation reports from Ain Shams. The envelope – which presumably did reach Mackenzie, since it appears in the archive, or else was returned to its sender – highlights the efficiency of the Egyptian postal service in this era, and the reach of the British imperial administration. But with its array of postmarks and fruitless journey across North Africa, it also seems to echo the missed opportunities and miscommunications that marked the PEF’s relationship with this brilliant, troubled, unconventional man.

Further Reading:

Ayalon, A. 2004. Reading Palestine. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Momigliano, N. 1996.  Duncan Mackenzie and the Palestine Exploration Fund. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 128 (1): 139-170

Said, E. 2000. Out of Place: A Memoir. London: Granta.

Who Was Karimeh Abbud? Part 1

By Mary Pelletier

A quick Google search reveals an oft-repeated, neat little biography for Karimeh Abbud, complete with an image of her, stood next to a large-format camera, shutter release in hand.  Karimeh was allegedly the first female photographer in Palestine, born in 1896 to an esteemed, intellectual family who resided in Bethlehem. She also went by the title ‘Lady Photographer’, and proudly stamped the moniker on her prints. Seeing this calling card, I was hooked – how had Karimeh managed to make her mark in the old boys’ club of Holy Land photography practice?

Karimeh Abbud and her camera, Haifa, 1920s. Photo by C. Swaid (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

Karimeh Abbud and her camera, Haifa, 1920s. Photo by C. Swaid (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

The biographical information about Karimeh online was surprisingly one-dimensional. She had worked throughout Palestine, making her studio in Nazareth, Bethlehem and Jerusalem, specialising in photographs of women and families. Articles stated her importance with certainty, but I was curious as to the source of this information – did it come from her family? Who had declared her the ‘first’ Palestinian female photographer, or as some claimed, the first female to run a photographic business in the Middle East? What had happened to her photographs, and why weren’t they in a museum collection somewhere?

Karimeh Abbud studio stamp (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

Karimeh Abbud studio stamp (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

With funding from the PEF, I got right down to asking anyone in Bethlehem and Jerusalem with photography knowledge who would listen – where can I find Karimeh Abbud and her photographs? Articles from the Jerusalem Quarterly and online sources cited the Nazareth Archive Project and Ahmad Mrowat as being the source of the research. The Nazareth Archive Project was said to house Karimeh’s work, but phone numbers to Mrowat were disconnected, as were phone numbers I tracked down for family members who were said to have helped compile this initial information, circa 2007.

Photograph of two unknown women taken by Karimeh Abbud (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.23)

Photograph of two unknown women taken by Karimeh Abbud (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.23)

Karimeh’s name seemed to be one that everyone knew – but no one knew much about. One Palestinian photography collector let out a long sigh when I asked him what he knew of Karimeh’s work, citing that her reputation had been overblown – her studio photographs were nothing special, photographically speaking.  I disagreed – I had been attracted to Abbud’s photographs because those I had seen online seemed much more intimate than the stage-y, directed portraiture of Jerusalem photographers like Khalil Ra’ad.

Looking at photographs from Issam Nassar’s collection, reproduced here, the subjects of her photographs seem to exude a comfort, both with their partners and with the photographer herself – as though the taking of the picture is not a transaction, but instead a sort of collaborative effort. (Nassar has written further on Abbud in the larger context of Middle Eastern portraiture in the Jerusalem Quarterly, cited below).

That skeptical collector also put me in touch with Rev. Mitri Raheb, head of Bethlehem’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, and, as it turned out, Karimeh’s unintentional biographer.

This photograph printed on carte postale has the stamp of Karimeh Abbud. It was sent with a note on the back to Um Diabis Abbud on October 30th, 1930 from Dmitri, whose last name is not legible. (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.28)

This photograph printed on carte postale has the stamp of Karimeh Abbud. It was sent with a note on the back to Um Diabis Abbud on October 30th, 1930 from Dmitri, whose last name is not legible. (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.28)

Meeting with Rev. Raheb helped to set some things straight about Karimeh’s biography – his book, a limited-print run paperback written in Arabic and with a foreword by Ahmad Mrowat, charts her life through Lutheran church records. He sets a clear picture of her life’s trajectory, her family life, the chances afforded her by her family’s status, even her marriage – many things left out of any online articles. All of the context afforded by Rev. Raheb’s publication is important, especially when considering the style of Karimeh’s subjects and her mobility.

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 45)

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 95)

:Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 44)

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 94)

The images in the book had come from two Abbud family photographic albums. These two undated images, taken by Abbud herself, are reproduced on pages 94 & 95 of Raheb’s publication and demonstrate Abbud’s signature portraiture environment – the women here are comfortable with each other, but also with Abbud’s presence. It is obvious in both images that their proximity to one another demonstrate a close relationship – most likely mother and daughters, and then the two sisters, alone – but we also see that Abbud treated her familial subjects in the same way she treated her paying clients, and vice versa – there is a warm professionalism that plays out in each of these different sets of images.

It is the foreword by Mrowat in this text that seemed curious to me, however. Where earlier articles by Mrowat stated he had acquired ‘some 400’ Abbud photographs from an Israeli photography collector, this text (published 2011) noted a legal case brought against him by the same Israeli collector. He states that the collector had no right to keep the photos, as he was not related to her in any way. This calls into question the amount of weight placed on earlier claims for the archive in his articles – who actually owned the pictures that were being written about, did the author have permission from the owner(s) to use them, and were the claims accurate? Does the Nazareth Archive Project exist outside of articles bearing its name?

There are many outstanding questions I am in the process of answering – beginning with gaining access to the ‘some 400’ photographs that were the subject of this legal case. A ‘Part 2’ will be forthcoming!

Further reading:

Mrowat, A. 2007. “Karimeh Abbud: Early Woman Photographer (1896-1955).” Jerusalem Quarterly 31: 72-78.

Nassar, I. 2011. “Early Photography in Palestine: The Legacy of Karimeh Abbud.” Jerusalem Quarterly 46: 23-31.

Raheb, M. 2011. Karimeh Abbud: Pioneer Female Phographer of Palestine. Bethlehem, Palestine: Diyar Consortium. Print. Arabic language.

Pilgrim Camps on the Hajj Roads to Mecca

By Claudine Dauphin

The Desert is green! My arrival in Jordan on 13th April 2016 coincided with hail, strong winds, lashing rain and intense cold, turning the semi-arid desert immediately south of Amman into a green carpet (Fig. 1). Courtesy of global warming, three days later, it was full Summer and a ‘‘baptism by fire’’ at 38°C in the shade for my first day of fieldwork on the camps of the Darb al-Hajj al-Shami, the ‘‘Syrian’’ Pilgrimage route running from Damascus to Mecca and bisecting Jordan lengthwise.

Fig. 1A green desert, mid-April 2016 (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 1 A green desert, mid-April 2016 (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Following the central ridge of Jordan, which was densely populated in Antiquity, the original ‘‘Mediaeval’’ road (7th-15th centuries) incorporated stretches of the Iron Age and Nabatean Kings’ Highway and of the Roman Via Nova Triana. It was replaced in the 16th century by the Ottoman route further east into the desert, with which the Hijaz Railway competed between 1900 and 1918 (Figs 2 and 3).

Fig. 2Hijaz Railway Mafraq Station (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 2 Hijaz Railway Mafraq Station (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 3Original Hijaz train carriage in wood, exhibited in the courtyard of The Jordan Museum, Amman (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 3 Original Hijaz train carriage in wood, exhibited in the courtyard of The Jordan Museum, Amman (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

In 2014, I had followed the Ottoman Darb al-Hajj by taxi and on foot from Ramtha on the Syrian border southwards (425 kms or 264 miles), section by section between historically-attested stop-overs, whilst checking the changes in the landscapes pre-detected on geological and pedological maps, aerial photographs and Google Earth. This Spring, I put my steps into those of Ottoman pilgrims returning from Mecca, starting at the fort of Qala’at Mudawwara (Fig. 4) on the border with Saudi Arabia, thus reversing the order of the 12 stop-overs, and focused on the open-air encampments, which I had reconstructed on paper from the descriptions of 19th century travellers, J.L. Burckhardt and Ch. Doughty, Arab, Persian and Indian illuminated manuscripts and miniatures, and early photographs.

Fig. 4DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi looking down to the Ottoman fort of Qala’at Mudawwara. The pilgrim camp filled the vast expanse surrounding it (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 4 DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi looking down to the Ottoman fort of Qala’at Mudawwara. The pilgrim camp filled the vast expanse surrounding it (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

How is it possible to locate the bases of tents and hearths in a wilderness of sand and rocks? Setting information, culled, with an official permit, in the archives of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan (DAoJ) against RAF 1953 aerial photographs provided by the Royal Jordanian Geographic Centre, I applied British methods of Historic Landscape recording and interpretation (walking the entire area, detecting features thanks to slanting afternoon light, recording by GPS, measuring, drawing and photography). DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi and I plotted access from the main Hajj road or via secondary paths, determined the extent of each camp and defined its natural limits (wadi or terracing), recorded hearths, traces of tents, enclosures for the camels, donkeys, mules and horses of the Hajj caravan, which in its 16th-18th century heyday, comprised some 60,000 pilgrims and 80,000 camels.

Fig. 5 Goats feeding on bushes on the Darb al-Hajj at Qala’at al-Hasa. The kerb is visible between the two goats (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 5 Goats feeding on bushes on the Darb al-Hajj at Qala’at al-Hasa. The kerb is visible between the two goats (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Most exciting was recording al-Hasa: under a blazing sun, walking across the Ottoman bridge, along the Hajj road with its revetment of pebbles and flint (Fig. 5), and its drainage system, past the Ottoman fort and onto the pilgrim camp, measuring the circuit wall of an immense camel enclosure, picking out the faint outlines of octogonal and rectangular tents between artemisia bushes, with a cooking-hearth outside the entrance of each tent, gave me a real sense of Time abolished, a feeling of reaching out to the daily routine of 18th century pilgrims on the Darb al-Hajj. My greatest reward, however, was the discovery of the actual Hajj road (Fig. 6) running past Qala’at Daba, between the pilgrim encampment (also a First) and the modern tarmac road, and uphill towards Zizya.

Fig. 6 View of Qala’at Daba from the just-discovered Hajj road in the foreground. Between it and the Ottoman fort, to the left, lay the pilgrim camp (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 6 View of Qala’at Daba from the just-discovered Hajj road in the foreground. Between it and the Ottoman fort, to the left, lay the pilgrim camp (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

In comparison, the camps of the Mediaeval Darb al-Hajj were more difficult to reconnoitre and delimit securely, the majority of them having been absorbed by sprawling urbanisation (Ramtha, Qasr Shabib in Zarka, al-Thaniyya now part of al-Karak, and Zizya), which has eradicated nearly all evidence of pilgrims’ resting places. It required a much greater leap of imagination to give physical substance to descriptions of the camps by Mediaeval Hajj pilgrims, such as the famous Ibn Battuta (Tangiers 1304-Morocco 1368-69 or 1377) who travelled on the ‘‘Syrian’’ Hajj road in 1326.

As dusk fell on the faint traces of the pilgrim camps, the ears of my imagination could still hear the clatter of the cooking and eating in front of the tents, the growling of camels and the neighing of horses, donkeys and mules, as they settled down to sleep before yet another gruelling day’s walk to the next stop-over on the road to Mecca.

The Islamic Bayda Project, Season 2015

The Archaeology of an Islamic-period village outside of the Petra valley

By Micaela Sinibaldi

When I had the opportunity to start a project at Bayda in 2014, I felt very fortunate. As an archaeologist who has now worked in Petra for the past 20 years on the subject of Medieval and Islamic-period settlements, I had realised that Bayda has a huge potential for understanding the largely neglected topic of settlement during the late historical phases of Petra. The best known sites of this period in Petra belong to the Crusader phases, which has always been the main focus of my research.  However, the region saw also uninterrupted settlement through the whole Islamic period. Islamic Bayda consists of a village with a long history of settlement, with a very significant phase belonging to the Late Islamic period.

The second season of the Islamic Bayda Project took place in Autumn 2015 and was affiliated with the Council for British Research in the Levant. The Palestine Exploration Fund has generously co-funded the project since its first season, and this support has been essential to the success of the fieldwork. This season I decided to invite an international team of experienced volunteers to participate, which has resulted in excellent results and a remarkable team spirit. As usual, the project included local team members from the Ammarin tribe from Bayda, some of whom were already experienced from the former season.

In 2014 the project focused on the excavation of a village habitation. This season the team focused on the analysis of the two mosques of the village. The aim was to document the architecture and building techniques of these two public buildings, which are rare examples of Islamic-period mosques in Petra. Excavations revealed that Mosque 1 had been built over a former building.  We were excited to find out that Mosque 2 was in very good condition, giving us an important opportunity for studying its architectural characteristics. We also continued to collect soil samples; these are destined for palaeobotanic analysis during the study season, as an aim of the project is to document daily life in the village. The plan for the next season is to finish excavating and recording these two important structures.

Team cleaning E. Wall, Mosque 1. (MS)  Drawing internal elevation, E. Wall, Mosque 1 (KC)  Collecting soil for palaeobotanical analysis (KC) Drawing elevations, Mosque 2. (AT)
Team cleaning E. Wall, Mosque 1. (MS)

A new initiative, the Schools Day, was first launched in 2014, and it was repeated in 2015. With the important logistic cooperation of the Petra Archaeological Park, students from local schools have been invited to visit the site and learn more about its importance, about the job of the archaeologist, and about the destructive effects of looting the archaeological deposits. This season, I asked my team members to illustrate the results of the project, according to their  expertise. Visits at the site have included local authorities, including staff of the Petra Archaeological Park and the Department of Antiquities, and the Director of the American Center of Oriental Research, Dr. Barbara Porter. Among the themes discussed with the Petra Archaeological Park was the idea of working on a future plan for the valorization of the site and increased access to tourists.

Working at the site has been lots of fun this season. Work in the field involved two tea breaks in the shade of our tents where the team relaxed and exchanged the news of the day. I chose to base my team of volunteers within the Bayda community, which meant that in the morning we would arrive there in minutes and could just walk to the site in the afternoon to complete drawings, but also that we had opportunities to visit friends or receive their visits in the evenings.

Schools Day - visiting Mosque 1 (QT) Schools Day - Wadi Musa class and Bayda team (QT) Visit of Barbara Porter (AT) Visit of Petra Archaeological Park Staff (AT)
Schools Day - visiting Mosque 1 (QT)

On our day off, Friday, the team was free to relax and enjoy Petra and the region. In Petra, the team visited the Jabal Harun, al-Habis castle and al-Deir, and we organised field trips to al-Wu’ayra castle and Shawbak castle. Every weekend we managed to camp outdoors, making tea, cooking and relaxing. Few things are as great as gathering around a fire under the stars after enjoying a stunning sunset!

Tea break! (MS) Weekend visit to Jabal Harun, Petra (KC) Taking a break from fieldwork (KC) Relaxing by the fire (MEA)
Tea break! (MS)

(Image credits: Micaela Sinibaldi, Katleen Couchez, Ahmad Thaher, Qais Tweissi, Mahmoud Eid Ammarin).

Satellite Images for the Sea of Galilee Project

By Ken Dark

The Sea of Galilee Project is an archaeological analysis of the Roman-period and Byzantine landscape surrounding the Sea of Galilee. It involves both new survey and new analysis of data derived from earlier work by other scholars. The Project has been supported by the Palestine Exploration Fund (PEF) through two grants.

The first of these provided funding towards fieldwalking in the Ginosar Valley on the western side of the ‘Sea’ in 2012, on which an interim report appeared in the Palestine Exploration Quarterly (PEQ) in 2013. The second grant, the subject of this note, funded the use of satellite imagery to seek new evidence of settlement location and landscape organization dating to the Roman or Byzantine periods around the ‘Sea’. Whereas fieldwalking produced surprisingly extensive evidence for Roman-period and Byzantine activity, satellite imagery has yielded disappointingly few new data.

The Sea of Galilee. Copyright Ken Dark.

The Sea of Galilee. Copyright Ken Dark.

A field-by-field search of the area around the lake-edge using satellite imagery revealed two main categories of features on the west and north of the ‘Sea’: pre-modern water-courses (of natural origin), and undated relict field boundaries (mostly linear strips and rectilinear enclosures, perhaps for olive-groves). However, there are no similar features to the east of the ‘Sea’, which may be explained by the relative proximity of high hills to the shore, allowing little room for agriculture. There is no evidence of unknown occupation areas on any of the satellite images examined so far.

That is, both conventional fieldwalking by this project in 2012 and surface surveys previously conducted by other scholars, have seemingly been far more effective as means of identifying the Roman-period and Byzantine settlement-patterns than using satellite images. This raises interesting methodological questions about the limitations of satellite archaeology overall. While a useful tool, details of topography, present landscape-use and geoarchaeological considerations may all limit its effectiveness. It also raises questions about landscape organization around the ‘Sea’: were there really no more Roman-period and Byzantine settlements than those already recognised?

 

In the footsteps of “Sitt Halima”

By Rosanna Sirignano

(Continued from “Introducing ‘Sitt Halima‘”)

Those who have women as informants are in a specially favourable position; the women are very much interested in their conditions and linger with pleasure over things which men glide over lightly.” (Granqvist 1931: 22)

Having obtained PEF support to go to Artas, I travelled there this October. After spending a couple of days in Jerusalem I left for Bethlehem together with my husband. Fadi Sanad, president of the Artas Folklore Center, welcomed us at Bab al-Zqaq from where we took a shared taxi to the village. He had arranged everything for us: the first two weeks we stayed in an apartment provided by Abu Sway family. Thanks to their hospitality and open mindedness we soon felt part of the community. The night we arrived women from Sanad family encouraged me to wear a traditional Palestinian dress and to attend a henna party.

En route to the henna party. Photo: R. Sirignano.

En route to the henna party. Photo: R. Sirignano.

Women dance with a basket full of sweets during a wedding. Photo: R. Sirignano.

Women dance with a basket full of sweets during a wedding. Photo: R. Sirignano.

A few days later Fadi´s younger brother got married. I had the privilege of getting involved in wedding preparation from the women’s side, while my husband enjoyed the atmosphere from the men side. When my husband left, I moved to Fadi Sanad´s mother´s place. She lived with three unmarried and beautiful daughters. Here my field work really began.

My research assistants were children from Abu Sway and Sanad family. They helped me to learn the local dialect and find my research participants, and they assisted me in doing the interviews.

I interviewed eleven women from 50 to 97 years old belonging to some of the families described in Granqvist´s work.

One of my research participants in her courtyard. Photo: R. Sirignano

One of my research participants in her courtyard. Photo: R. Sirignano

An old Artas women during the olives harvest. Photo: R. Sirignano

An old Artas women during the olives harvest. Photo: R. Sirignano.

I explained frankly the purpose of my research to all my participants at the beginning of the interview process. They had a similar attitude toward wailing songs (in Arabic tanāwiḥ) and they didn’t feel comfortable speaking about it because they considered it sinful (ḥarām) and shameful (cēb). It seems that the Prophet Muhammad recommended to not express grief with loud wailing, beating one´s chest or cheeks, tearing off the clothes etc.

While my participants had never sung or wailed during a funeral, they have seen this practice at least once. Because of contrasting information they gave it was difficult to establish how common the practice had been and when exactly it disappeared. Some women preferred referring to wailing as a very old and uncommon practice in Artas. Some others admitted that it was a common practice which disappeared only ten years ago.

I was a little bit discouraged, but I could not give up. I had to think up a way to complete my wailing songs mission. I thought: Why don’t I ask “Sitt Halima” and their patient collaborators for help?

Granqvist's house in Artas. Photo: R. Sirignano

Granqvist´s house in Artas. Photo: R. Sirignano

I began to show the women Granqvist´s collection of wailing songs in Arabic. Most of them were very happy to see that someone had recorded part of their cultural heritage so carefully. Although they recognized only one song, transcribed below, they quoted other songs that I have still to analyse.

ḥabībti w ana ḥabībtha

ištāk kalbi la zyāritha

yiṣcab calēyya yōm furkitha

 

She is my beloved and I am her beloved

My heart has pined for her visits

My heart suffered when I had to depart from her

(Granqvist 1965:199)

L. Baldensperger handwritten notes in Granqvist´s archive at the PEF. Photo: R. Sirignano.

L. Baldensperger handwritten notes in Granqvist´s archive at the PEF. Photo: R. Sirignano.

Haddad's notes with Granqvist's interlinear transcription (PEF archive). Photo: R. Sirignano.

Haddad’s notes with Granqvist’s interlinear transcription (PEF archive). Photo: R. Sirignano.

References/Further reading

Gamliel, Tova 2014. Aesthetics of Sorrow: The Wailing Culture of Yemenite Jewish Women. Wayne State University Press.

Granqvist, Hilma 1931. Marriage Conditions in a Palestinian Village, vol.I, Helsinki, Societas scientiarum fennica, commentationes humanarum litterarum.

Granqvist, Hilma 1965. Muslim Death and Burial: Arab Customs and Traditions Studied in a Village in Jordan, Helsinki, Societas Scientiarum Fennica, Commentationes Humanarum Litterarum.

Wickett, Elizabeth. 2010. For the Living and the Dead: The Funerary Laments of Upper Egypt, Ancient and Modern. I.B.Tauris.

 

Excavating a Medieval Village in Jerusalem – Khirbet Beit Mamzil, 2015

By Bethany J. Walker 

For the best part of the last twenty years I have been doing archaeological fieldwork in Jordan, where I have sustained a long-term interest in the Mamluk period (13th-16th centuries CE). What drives much of my research today is to better understand how villages functioned in the medieval Islamic period and how farmers made use of their land and limited water resources. In 2013, while excavating a medieval castle and village in the Madaba Plains, I received a call from Jerusalem: “Bethany, there is site over here you might want to take a look at. It seems to be a Mamluk-era farmstead, similar to what you are digging now!”

As I had been working in central and northern Jordan, I was most anxious to see a contemporary rural site outside the country, and immediately made the trip across the Allenby Bridge. I was not disappointed. The architectural remains were spectacular. Mazmil was once part of an extensive rural site outside the Holy City. The standing architecture, which is largely preserved from floor to roof, is a walled agricultural-domestic complex of the Early Modern (Ottoman) period, conforming to the form and layout of the seasonally inhabited farmstead (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1 - Field C domestic complex (courtesy author)

Fig. 1. A domestic complex in Field C, Mamzil. Photo: B. J. Walker.

It makes use, however, of many walls and structures from earlier periods (Byzantine, Crusader, Mamluk), and has a reservoir and many large cisterns. What is left of the site of Khirbat Beit Mazmil, large portions of which have been scarred by demolition and suburban construction, offered me a unique opportunity to investigate the physical and functional transformations of a single household of farmers and its household economy in the Judean highlands (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2 - Mazmil aerial_detail (courtesy author)

Fig. 2. Mamzil from the air. Photo: B. J. Walker.

Our current excavations, which began this year and are co-directed with Dr. Benjamin Dolinka of the Israel Antiquities Authority, are the only ones today devoted to the study of the Jerusalem hinterland in the medieval Islamic period. We are most grateful to the Palestine Exploration Fund for helping to finance our fall excavation season.

Urban archaeology is a new experience for me. I have excavated in the middle of “living” villages before, and certainly in remote locations, but being in the middle of an urban environment created many new challenges and, yes, opportunities. There is constant noise, dust, and traffic. However, I can also get to the site with the light rail, rather than a four-wheel drive. Fieldwork each day was made ever so much smoother with one of the best field crews with whom I have had the pleasure to work (Fig. 3). The young men, and their foreman, from Ramla, were well trained technicians, loved archaeology, and had solutions for every problem that presented itself.

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Fig. 3. Our work team. Photo: Benjamin Dolinka.

Excavating in a city also means you get many visitors. Ours largely came to help and volunteer, doing everything from drawing architecture, to washing and processing pottery, and excavation. Our visitors lived in the surrounding apartment complexes and in the village of Ein Karem. They were extremely supportive of our plans to develop the site into an archaeological park, preserving and restoring the historical architecture, and to save this precious green space from further urban development.

The final days of the excavation found the team fighting one of the worst dust storms the region has faced in recent history. Our end-of-season photos are largely orange in hue, a permanent reminder of the realities of working outdoors (Fig. 4). We plan to return to the site in September 2016 and continue excavation for another several seasons.

A dust storm at Mamzil. Photo: B. J. Walker.

Fig. 4. A dust storm at Mamzil. Photo: B. J. Walker.

Introducing “Sitt Halima”

By Rosanna Sirignano

“I needed to live among the people, hear them talk about themselves in Artas, make records while they spoke of their life, customs and ways of looking at things. For that reason I decided to remain in Palestine.” (Granqvist 1931: 2)

Hilma Granqvist (nicknamed ‘Sitt Halima’ in Palestine) was born in 1890 in Sipoo, in the UUsimaa region in the eastern neighbour of Helsinki. Her family were Swedish-speaking Finns, a minority ethnic group in Finland.

Picture 2

Hilma Granqvist during the harvest (PEF archive).

Picture 3

Between 1925 and 1931, she carried out a field research in the West Bank village of Artas. “Sitt Halima” soon became part of the community. Thanks to her work, Artas is the most well documented village in Palestine before 1948. Her five ethnographical monographs about marriage, childhood and burial customs, have a unique place in Palestinian studies because of the detailed descriptions of women´s lives under the British Mandate.

I am currently carrying out a PhD research at Heidelberg University on Hilma Granqvist´s Arabic field notes in Arabic. When I first discovered her biography during my BA dissertation, I was immediately fascinated. Her courage, perseverance, patience and stubbornness in the face of difficulties, marked her as a painstaking researcher, determined to achieve her goals.

The Palestine Exploration Fund now holds the material resulting from her field work, including more than a thousand papers containing the original Arabic version of the texts. In 2011 I visited the PEF and with the help of Felicity Cobbing and Ivona Lloyd-Jones I photographed all of Granqvist’s Arabic field notes. My MA research focused on the transcription and translation of texts about childhood.

Granqvist´s field notes in Arabic at the PEF.

Granqvist´s field notes in Arabic at the PEF.

Funded by the PEF, I have recently been investigating what are known as ‘wailing songs’ – performed by women lamenting and bewailing the deceased. These songs are a long-standing tradition in Israel\Palestine. We can find traces even in the Old Testament, for example, in Jeremiah 9:17-20 God calls mourning women to raise a lament over the besieged people of Judah (Granqvist 1965: 194). The practice of wailing can also be found in other part of the world.

Women in mourning (PEF archive).

Women in mourning (PEF archive).

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Women sing and distribute food (PEF archive).

For the PEF project I focused on songs performed at women´s death. These were dedicated to a stranger woman, a good wife, a good mother, a neighbour and friends (Granqvist 1965:199-201). Their contents recall some aspects of the deceased’s life, or express feelings of loss and sadness. In some cases women give a voice to the deceased, for example:

“The beloved ones passed me by

They have crossed the border of the country

They have gone far away from me” (Granqvist 1965: 201)

Picture 7

Arabic original version of the song, PEF archive. Photo: R. Sirignano.

The file n.22 from Granqvist´s PEF archive contains different original Arabic version of the songs. Three people helped Granqvist in taking notes: Louise Baldensperger, Elias Haddad and Judy Farah Docmac. Each of them used a different system to reproduce the variety of Arabic spoken by Artas villagers. Sometimes it is very hard to interpret the text, and this is my main research problem: how could I reconstruct the musicality and rhythm of the songs to show their artistic value?

To be continued…

Picture 8

Artas landscape today. Photo: R. Sirignano.

References / Further reading

Claasens, L. Juliana M. 2010. Calling the Keeners: The Image of the Wailing Woman As Symbol of Survival in a Traumatized World. Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 26 (1): 63–77.

Granqvist, Hilma 1931. Marriage Conditions in a Palestinian Village, vol.I, Helsinki, Societas scientiarum fennica, commentationes humanarum litterarum.

Granqvist, Hilma 1935. Marriage Conditions in a Palestinian Village, vol.II, Helsinki, Societas scientiarum fennica, commentationes humanarum litterarum.

Granqvist, Hilma 1947. Birth and Childhood Among The Arabs. Studies in a Muhammadan village in Palestine, Helsingfors, Sӧderstrӧm & Co. Fӧrlagsaktiebolag.

Granqvist, Hilma 1950. Child Problems among the Arabs, Copenhagen, Munksgaard.

Granqvist, Hilma 1965. Muslim Death and Burial: Arab Customs and Traditions Studied in a Village in Jordan, Helsinki, Societas Scientiarum Fennica, Commentationes Humanarum Litterarum.

Naïli, Falestin 2007. L’oeuvre de Hilma Granqvist: L’Orient imaginaire confronté à la réalité d’un village palestinien, Revue d’Etudes Palestiniennes, 105, 74-84.

Seger, Karen (ed.) 1981. Portrait of a Palestinian village, the photographs of Hilma Granqvist, London, The Third World Centre for Research and Publishing.

Weir, Shelagh 1975. Hilma Granqvist and Her Contribution to Palestine Studies, Bulletin of the British Society for Middle Eastern Studies 2/ 1, 6-13.