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Tents and blowing laundry now punctuate the countryside around San Lazaro Pueblo where only yesterday the cholla and kosha weeds were king. Twenty-one under-appraised teens, under the tutelage of a professional archaeologist, picked up tools that were especially designed for manual labor and started excavating at the top of a large trash mound on the east side of the historic buildings (after 1540 and before 1680.) Each student is paid $5.75 an hour thanks in a large part to Mike Kammerer and his Code of the West Foundation. The “archaeologists” soon uncovered the walls of three hitherto unknown prehistoric rooms that were hiding beneath the rubble. Each bucket of dirt was carefully screened and many artifacts were discovered. They include a red fibrolite axe, three decorated pottery pipes, about twenty-five arrowheads, some iron and copper fragments, pieces of Ming Dynasty porcelain, majolica sherds, eight human effigies shaped from pottery pieces, a beautiful mother of pearl ear ring that is double drilled, endless gaming pieces, some glass trade beads, two wonderful scrapers made from alibates jasper from north Texas, some bone awls, shell pendants, and a host of other objects that made history and archaeology spring alive. It was obvious in the dancing faces of these young men and women. One fourteen year old said, “Well I’ll be darned, the Spanish really were here.” Field work in archaeology brings rewards from many directions and has far reaching effects on young minds. Meanwhile, some of the other students were in a newly excavated kiva, which abuts the north building in the historic plaza. It measures eight feet deep and nineteen feet-six inches across, and the cedar posts that once held the roof are still standing straight and strong. A large stone altar, perfectly preserved, holds court near the east wall, adjacent to the air vent. Eagle-eyed PJ spotted green paint near the bottom of the wall so we began to very carefully trowel away at the eighth-inch layers of smoke smudged adobe that were falling from the wall, but were trying to hold on. Soon the workers had uncovered red and white geometric stair-stepped designs that circled around, and a beautiful white, six inch morning star that we had to remove to save. The hero of the day was pretty Perry who very painstakingly removed a couple of layers to discover what looks like a ten inch high painted shield with bright yellow horns (?) and containing red and white colors in the decoration. Meanwhile Patrick was uncovering a black human face with sinister and foreboding eyes; the lower part of it’s face still lurks under the layers. Colors of green, yellow, red, white, and black, can be seen peeking through around most of the wall. And we are paying the kids to do this? While dark clouds gathered in the north, we quickly erected a shelter in the kiva to protect the paintings. It was decided that Dr. Richard Blake, eleven year old dynamo Logan, and the intellectual Patrick, should remove a fourteen inch, flat rock, that was standing on edge. It was adobe plastered flush with the circular wall, and resting on the floor. We were alerted by a nearby three inch hole in the wall that seemed to open up inside and go on forever. When the rock was carefully removed a large secret chamber could be seen through the opening. The entire field school was now down the ladder and in audience, including eight adults. It got very quiet and you could feel the tension and excitement mounting. The rectangular “vault,” with black stuccoed walls is about four by five feet or so. We cannot yet see one side. The chamber is no less than a repository for what appears to be numerous wooden ceremonial dance wands, prayer sticks, and other objects of ritual. They must have been placed there after the last ceremony ended, and the stone door was set in place and disguised. Since seven peach seeds were found just inside the door we think the last usage occurred about four hundred years ago. Are any of the objects painted? Do they have feathers attached? We can see one whose head is shaped in a stair-step design, and the end of a hunting bow angles from the debris on the floor. Our flash light could not reveal the extent of the cavity. After many photographs were made we decided it was time to notify state archaeologists and seek their advice and assistance. On each of three walls (south, west, and north) of the kiva, and obvious for all to see, were round adobe “plugs,” five inches or so in diameter. They were placed about three feet above the floor. Three students were selected to surgically remove these doors, and in each instance storage spaces more that a cubic foot in size, were revealed. Each contained exciting and mysterious artifacts that were at last exposed to the light of day after many years of suffering the solitude of total darkness. That thought was profoundly on our minds as thunder and lightning danced around. We don’t yet know the full extent of our discovery, as we retreated to safer grounds. Some thought the lightning was an omen. We can only imagine what wonderful stories still dwell there in silent repose. One thing for sure, we know they are meant to be told. I don’t think any of us will sleep tonight. It is three days later now, most of the artifacts have been removed, and the kids have gone. But our work is not finished. As long as there are young people at risk and in need of a gentle nudge, we will throw our lot in with them. They will not soon forget the thrill of discovery, the camaraderie, the daily lectures presented by great scholars, including the head of the chemistry department at Princeton, and important physicists from Los Alamos. It was our thrill to watch them exchange email addresses and phone numbers as they departed. They will work together again on the final site report. And we know there are those who will paint our efforts a villainous black and that we will suffer from the gossip around the water fountain. We think it is a small price to pay. If anyone would like to see digital photographs of selected artifacts from the kiva chambers email me. I also welcome your comments no matter what. Forrest Fenn |
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