2014-15 Ph.D. fieldwork report

From May–September 2014 and from January–February 2015, I conducted archaeological and geological fieldwork on Rapa Nui for my doctorate at the University of Queensland (UQ). These six months were the most challenging and rewarding of my career, as I had to navigate the social politics on the island to be granted authorization to conduct scientific research and to remove geological and archaeological samples off the island for technological and geochemical analyses. In this report, I: 1) review the process to attain research permits on Rapa Nui; 2) highlight six months of living and doing scientific investigation on Rapa Nui; and 3) describe the components of my Ph.D.

Desde mayo hasta septiembre 2014 y desde enero hasta febrero 2015, llevé a cabo el trabajo de campo arqueológico y geológico en Rapa Nui para mi doctorado en la Universidad de Queensland (UQ). Estos seis meses fueron los más difíciles y gratificantes de mi carrera, ya que tuve que navegar por las políticas sociales en la isla que se conceda la autorización para llevar a cabo la investigación científica y para extraer muestras geológicas y arqueológicas de la isla para hacer análisis tecnológico y geoquímica. En este informe, yo: 1) revisar el proceso para lograr permisos de investigación en Rapa Nui; 2) pongo de relieve los seis meses de vida y de hacer investigación científica en Rapa Nui; y 3) describo los componentes de mi doctorado.

Introduction

On a cold Rapa Nui night, I began to write about my experiences of doing archaeological and geological fieldwork for my doctorate at UQ (Simpson 2014, n.d.a., n.d.b.; Simpson et al. in prep.). After 14 years of maintaining connections with Rapa Nui (visiting, living, guiding, and investigating), I have learned one important lesson: to do scientifically valid and community approved research, one must have the patience and persistence to see the work through, and one must invest time living and sharing with the island community. After six months of fieldwork, I answered a few of my Ph.D. research enquiries, but this ultimately raised more questions instead; the vicious, but necessary cycle of scientific investigation. While most tell me that this is the natural process of doing innovative research, this progression can be unsettling, nerve-wracking, and demanding, but at the same time, invigorating, motivating, and life-changing.

One of the biggest obstacles that I faced with my fieldwork was navigating the complex social politics of the island to apply for and be granted authorization to do scientific research and to remove geological and archaeological samples off the island. For example, there are nine assemblies that must be consulted to do scientific investigation on Rapa Nui. Because of this, I had to write separate permissions (with accompanying letters of support from local, Chilean, and international colleagues, evidence of past education/research, and a complete curriculum vitae) and/or present specialized exhibitions about my research to: MAPSE (Museo Antropológico P. Sebastián Englert), CONAF (Corporación Nacional Forestal), CMN (Consejo de Monumentos Nacionales), STP (Secretaría Técnica Patrimonio Rapa Nui), CODEIPA (La Comisión para el Desarrollo de Isla de Pascua), SENATUR (Servicio Nacional de Turismo), the Chamber of Tourism (Cámara de Turismo), and the Rapa Nui Parliament (Parlamento Rapa Nui). To fly a drone over archaeological sites for landscape photos, the DGAC (Dirección General de Aeronáutica Civil) was consulted and a formula was completed which included the personnel involved, technology used, dates, times, locations, and altitudes of flights, and separate letters of support from CONAF and CODEIPA.

However, the most important permisos (permits) to acquire are those not written on paper, but made by communicating and being very transparent with the local community about what exactly I am doing on their henua (land). Land ownership and use are very delicate subjects on Rapa Nui, especially when one considers the numerous tomas (at times violent land seizing movements) that have happened in the past few years (Young 2012), during my time on the island, and most recently in March and April 2015. So, to have a member from another Rapanui mata (clan), let alone a foreigner accessing valuable land, makes some Rapanui cringe and scream "ka oho o te henua" (get off the land)! Thus, to avoid uncomfortable situations about being a foreigner on foreign henua, my policy has been to be as ostensible and adaptable as possible, to listen to and understand critiques masked as support, and follow all protocol as put forward by state and local entities.

At times, I felt that I was on an archaeological PR campaign, diffusing my research design on the local radio station (Manukena 88.9) and T.V. channel (Mata o te Rapa Nui). I also walked, biked, and drove from house to house, campsite to campsite, and fire pit to fire pit, to plead my case as to why a gringo should be able to conduct more field research, remove sacred and valuable material culture off the island to the other side of the Pacific, and use destructive methodologies to geochemically analyze archaeological and geological material. When I told people that I am interested in using scientific archaeology to answer questions about the island's prehistoric social interaction and territoriality, a few Rapanui commented: "your answers are already in the oral tradition, why conduct more research?"

Sadly, I also dealt with the backlash from some archaeological researchers on Rapa Nui, who have taken so much off the island (artifacts, samples, and information), but have hardly left anything in return; a reality well discussed by the Rapa Nui community. For example, some of my informants pointed out that many investigators stay on the island for such short periods, which does not give the proper amount of time: 1) for local assemblies and permit granting bodies to discuss and approve projects according to their protocols and the pace of island life; 2) for local people to participate in public archaeology; and 3) to include current fieldwork and ongoing research in the island's educational curriculum. Other informants highlighted that some international researchers do not have a command of Spanish and/or Rapanui, which restricts the amount of information being returned to the island community in the form of public presentations, exhibitions, and in educational contexts. One informant concluded: "these gringos come from abroad, do their research, go back to their universities, and when we and our children want to know about their work regarding our island culture, we have to buy a book." Obviously, a better relationship between archaeological researchers, our information, and the island community is needed.

Figure 1.

Locations referred to in the report.

Figure 2.

Hotel Hotu Matu'a collection (photo by author).

Keeping Busy

While awaiting my permits, I kept busy by revisiting research that noted Rapanui historian Carlos Paoa Huki and I have been working on about the Hotel Hotu Matu'a anthropological collection (Simpson & Paoa n.d.; Figure 2). Numbering more than 700 objects, 1000 books, 8000 photos, and 300 magazine/newspaper articles regarding the island, Carlos' assemblage is the largest on the island owned by a private individual. In 2011, we started the process of documenting and registering the collection with the hope of cocurating an exhibition that showcases Carlos' unique archaeological, historic, and contemporary Rapanui artifacts. This work has given us great joy as we have been able to bridge etic and emic understandings of artifacts (Headland et al. 1990). But, one of the greatest outcomes of this joint venture is the friendship we have created and the newfound respect we have for not only each other, but also the variety and complexity of Rapa Nui's material culture. As we move forward, we are preparing a journal article (Simpson & Paoa in prep.), as well as a collection catalogue with high quality photos and anthropologically informed artifact labelling and interpretation.

I also worked as a consultant for Ka'Ara Environmental Conscience. Our main project was to clean up the accumulated material and garbage found on the island's northern coast from Ovahe eastward to Mahatua (Figure 3). While coastal clean-ups have been in the works for years, this was the first attempt to quantify the amount of material pollution coming to the island. With more than 80 people from different island associations, we worked for three hours in beach and rocky coastal areas, collecting more than 800kg of waste. Recovered material that arrives to the island's coast daily includes microplastics (at Ovahe, we recovered three one-litre bags in two hours; Figure 4), hard and soft plastics, aluminum, and glass. Surprisingly, accounting for almost 60% of all material recovered (by weight), were ropes and nets that are traced to the large factory fishing boats that harvest tuna and pelagic fish around the island. Unfortunately, not only are these ships possibly overfishing culturally and economically valuable species, but they are also leaving their fishing by-products to wash up on the island's coast. Another idea that we have considered is how much of this ocean waste is related to the movement of the "Eastern Pacific Garbage Patch" around the island (NOAA 2013). But, regardless of this material's origin, by working together with the island community, we realized that if we wish to make the island a cleaner place, we needed to get our own hands dirty to set an example for current and future generations. We also became determined to get the message out about the sources of ocean pollution coming to Rapa Nui.

Figure 3.

Cleaning up the northern coast (photo by author).

Figure 4.

Cleaning up a microplastic deposit at Ovahe (photo by author).

Figure 5.

Manu Iri during a geological workshop at Tahai (photo by author).

Figure 6.

Manu Iri conducting geophysical survey in Vaitea (photo by author).

Giving me a great deal of satisfaction and an opportunity to give back to the Rapa Nui community, I participated, designed curriculum, and lectured for two educational outreach projects on the island. With Brett Shepardson's Terevaka Archaeological Outreach (TAO) project (www.terevaka.net), and with support from Hotel Explora, I had the chance to instruct local high school students about the island's geomorphological formation, geology, geochemical analysis of archaeological and geological material, and my Ph.D. research (Shepardson et al. 2014). Although I have worked with this outreach project for many years, I feel a great deal of credit is due for TAO, as over the last 11 years it has seen almost 100 students go through the program, with some graduates later acquiring degrees in archaeology and conservation (Shepardson et al. 2011; Shepardson 2013; Simpson n.d.e.). If an archaeological outreach program is judged by its persistence, long-term commitment and success, TAO should be considered a model for current and future projects interested in a bottom-up approach to hands-on outreach education. In fact, I have used TAO's educational model in archaeological outreach programs that we host at the University of Queensland's new Archaeological Teaching and Research Centre (Simpson et al. 2013, n.d.) and for a new heritage program on Rapa Nui, Manu Iri.

In late June 2014, MAPSE and STP launched Manu Iri, a program for 9-12 year olds, dedicated to creating "heritage guardians" for the future of Rapa Nui (Mata o te Rapa Nui 2014; Moe Varua 2014; Torres Jeria et al. 2015; Figures 5 & 6). This program is committed to teaching about the many aspects of Rapa Nui's natural and cultural heritage including: geology, archaeology, anthropology, oral traditions, food production, language, flora and fauna, and the environmental problems facing the island. We have two components to our program: theory and practice. During theoretical components, we utilize MAPSE's collections, the William Mulloy Library, and local, national, and international experts to present lectures, lab-and class-based activities. During practice components, we head out to the field where we put our theory into action. Some of our fieldwork components included geologic hikes and collection, cave and archaeological site visits and hikes, geophysical survey, and agricultural activities where our participants learned about ancestral Rapanui food production. I also organized a field visit to the sites I am investigating for my Ph.D., namely fine-grain basalt quarries. Here, I had the opportunity to instruct our students about archaeological documentation and interpretation, stone tool manufacture, and the management of important heritage sites (Figure 7). In total, and in less than one year (June 2014–February 2015), Manu Iri provided 22 free talleres (workshops) which included equipment, food, and field transportation for more than 30 children from the island. Seeing the youth and their families take an interest in their celebrated (pre)history gave me an extreme feeling of pride and confirmed why I became interested in anthropological education in the first place. I am exceptionally proud of Manu Iri and wholeheartedly believe the program has an extremely important mission and that its staff and volunteers are creating heritage guardians for the future.

Refocusing

While I was extremely busy during my first two months on Rapa Nui, I had to reorganize myself and focus on the reason why I was on the island: to complete my Ph.D. research. In July 2014, I was informed that I had to present my research design to the permit-granting bodies of the island. This was one of the most intense and stressful moments in my career. I faced the council that could, with one vote, put my Ph.D. research on hold provisionally or more frighteningly, forever. Yet, with a lot of time to think about my investigation, research questions and goals, I successfully presented my proposal, which was unanimously approved by the council; one of the best feelings in my life. But, I would have to be patient but persistent, work in stages, update my progress, and await the final decision to obtain permits to take archaeological and geological samples off the island–becoming the first foreign researcher without excavating to do so.

Simply, my Ph.D. project is focused on prehistoric interaction and territoriality. It will also test the "collapse" model which proposes that the ancient island culture concentrated more on competition between clans (Bahn & Flenley 1992; Diamond 2005), than umanga (reciprocal interaction) within the island culture. To approach these topics, I am using the movement of basalt artifacts such as ohio (axes), toki (adzes) and hoe (knives)–as identified by their geochemical signatures–from their geological sources to where they were found in the archaeological record. By tracing the association from sources, quarries, and workshops to ceremonial and domestic archaeological sites located throughout the island, I believe we can infer prehistoric territoriality and interaction of the island's ancient inhabitants (Simpson 2014, n.d.b.; Simpson et al. in prep.).

As such, my research has two components: 1) to systematically record, analyze, and geochemically sample fine-grain basalt sources, quarries, and workshops; and 2) to technologically evaluate and geochemically analyze basalt archaeological material from MAPSE.

Archaeological and geological fieldwork

This work, which has been most exhilarating, consists of going into the field accompanied by members of the Rapanui community to find the sources and quarries of basaltic artifacts that were made hundreds of years ago. To date, I have identified five main complexes of fine-grain tool quality basalt. While the north and northeast coast have sources of toki and ohio raw material, the southwest coast (including Rano Kau and Vai Atare) shows evidence of keho (flat stone laminate) extraction, which was utilized for hoe and mangai (fishhook) manufacture. In total, I have registered 91 workshops, sources, and quarry sites in these areas. While I am at a site (Figure 7), my documentation process includes taking GPS coordinates, camera and drone photos/videos, measuring quarry, reduction and knapping (stone tool making) dimensions, observing the evidence for the operational sequence of tool making, and extracting 20g of geological samples. Some 10g was brought back to the UQ for geochemical analysis while the other 10g was stored in MAPSE, acting as a "bank" for future analysis.

In the southwest coast, on Rano Kau and Vai Atare, my trusted colleagues and good friends Edmundo Pont, Merahi Atam, Sebastián Pakarati and I have registered 40 keho workshops, sources, and quarry sites that were used to make a variety of tools and structures (Figures 8-10). Here, it is very easy to see just how the ancient Rapanui were removing multiple geological layers of keho, creating numerous mines in the process. One of these mines is ~20m deep with 1.5m of height, attesting to the excavation ability of the ancient Rapanui (Simpson n.d.a.). With the forthcoming geochemical results, we hope to differentiate the areas of keho production, the individual quarries within each area, and the lithic industries quarried from this area.

In Hanga Ho'onu, I have followed the extensive work of Chris Stevenson and Sonia Haoa, whose archaeological survey of this area registered more than 50 basalt quarries, sources, and workshops (Stevenson & Haoa 2008). From what I have observed and gathered from local informants, this is the largest concentration of tool quality basalt on the island and it deserves more attention and investigation, and even more so considering that fact that while some of the island's famous moai and ahu are under the strict supervision of CONAF's park guards and controlled through fences and signage, not one basalt (nor obsidian) quarry in this area, or within the island, is protected from the threats such as trampling horses and cattle, fires, tourists collecting artifacts, and the removal of material by island inhabitants for house and settlement construction. Through my research, I hope to build awareness about these valuable archaeological sites, because if they are destroyed, so is a great deal of the island's material past; protection and management are key.

Figure 7.

Manu Iri documenting Pu Tokitoki quarry (photo by Hoho'a photography).

Figure 8.

Documenting a keho quarry on the southwest coast (photo by Edmundo Pont).

Figure 9.

Southwest coast keho quarry (photo by author).

Figure 10.

Vai Atare keho quarry (photo by author)

At Pu Tokitoki and Ava o'Kiri, there is significant evidence for the intensive production of fine-grain stone tools. Regarding the mining process (Simpson n.d.a.), the ancient Rapanui took full advantage of puku (outcroppings) which displayed multiple lava flows (Figure 11). It appears that the removal of stratigraphically younger flows and the cleaving and removal of boulders were the first steps in the lithic reduction sequence. Similar to paenga quarrying (McCoy 2014), angular 'wedges' could have functioned to open and maintain space between holes and gaps found in the flow, while poro (rounded beach cobbles) and other boulders were used as hammerstones to remove workable nodules and cores. Water and fire cracking may have also been used to help detach in situ boulders (Skjølsvold 1961; McCoy 2014). The youngest volcanism in the area created papa (flat vesicular basalt flows), that were mined and used to manufacture dressed foundation curb stones (paenga) found in hare paenga (elite homes) and ahu, as well as pae (non-dressed basaltic blocks) used in umu (earth ovens), hare vaka (boat-shaped house with pae), hare oka (circular house with pae), rectangular houses, manavai (gardens), tupa (observation towers), pipi horeko (boundary markers), ana kionga (refuge caves) and ahu. Under the papa flow, there are unconsolidated flow levels that were arguably extracted and used for ahu fill and to create stone mulched gardens. Below these unconsolidated layers, are grey, fine-grained boulders (similar to Te Pito Kura), from 10-80cm of length, that have little to no inclusions and are predominately hawaiite (Simpson et al. in prep.). This geologic material was extensively quarried and then reduced and shaped into a variety of stone tools. Normally adjacent, or downhill from a mined puku, there is substantial evidence of pu (pit repositories) that stored the extracted hawaiite boulders and were also used during lithic reduction (Ayres et al. 1998; Simpson et al. in prep.; Stevenson & Haoa 2008; Figure 12). Around the margins of pu and the puku in general, there is normally flaking debris, or debitage, that was the by-product of the lithic reduction sequence. At times, there are thousands of flakes around quarry areas, attesting to the intensive production of basaltic tools (Figure 13).

Figure 11.

Excavated puku displaying multiple lava flows (photo by author).

Figure 12.

Pu Tokitoki with two pu and central flaking area (photo by author).

Figure 13.

Largest fine-grain basalt quarry with pu and reduction areas (photo by author).

Figure 14.

Reviewing MAPSE's archaeological collections (photo by Paulina Peralta).

MAPSE archaeological material selection and geochemical analysis

The second component of my Ph.D. project is to technologically evaluate and geochemically analyze basalt archaeological material. Importantly, my fieldwork did not include excavation of sites of the island, but instead, I "mined" the museum's extensive archaeological collections (Figure 14). With more than 20,000 objects and samples curated from multiple researchers, with at times well-documented spatial and temporal information, I used these curated collections to save the time, effort, and funding needed to conduct scientific excavation on the island (not to mention the need to acquire more permits). With my association with many Rapa Nui researchers (see Acknowledgments), I amassed a selection of 73 artifacts with known spatial provenance (from ceremonial and habitation sites) and 103 pieces of fragmented artifacts and flakes with spatial and temporal provenance (from Hanga Ho'onu and Rano Raraku). Selecting artifacts at MAPSE has given me the opportunity to review collections that have not been studied for many years. Simply, I feel that I am giving these important pieces of heritage another chance to demonstrate their significance and once again enlighten us about the prehistory of Rapa Nui.

Back at UQ, I am working with the School of Earth Sciences to geochemically analyze both geological and archaeological samples. To employ the least destructive sampling approach possible for geochemical analysis, I am using methodology described in Ma et al. (2010). Using small diamond micro-drilling of source material and artifacts, only 10mg samples are needed, as this amount: "is sufficient for high-precision geochemical characterization of fine-grained basalt, provid[ing] new opportunities for minimally destructive geochemical characterization of valuable museum collections of basalt adzes and other artefacts found worldwide" (Ma et al. 2010:891). With geochemical evidence in hand, Geographic Information Systems and statistical programs will be used to measure the distance of procurement from source quarries to ceremonial and habitation sites. This information will help evaluate if acquisition and use reflect ancient Rapanui socio-political organization as recorded ethnographically, ethnolinguistically, and/or archaeologically (Routledge 1919; Hotus et al. 1988; Stevenson 2002). Models of resource procurement, distribution and use (Lee 1992; Van Tilburg 1994; Beardsley. 1996; Stevenson 1997; Ayres et al. 1998; Stevenson et al. 2005, 2013; Gioncada et al. 2010; Simpson 2008, 2009, n.d.d; Van Tilburg et al. 2008; Hamilton et al. 2011) along with current interpretations of the island's alleged socio-ecological collapse (Bahn & Flenley 1992; Diamond 2005; Hunt 2006; Mulrooney et al. 2009; Hunt & Lipo 2011; Rull et al. 2013; Mulrooney 2012, 2013; Larsen & Simpson 2014; Simpson n.d.c.), will also be addressed.

Conclusion

With my six months of Ph.D. fieldwork complete, I learned that to conduct scientifically valid and community approved research on Rapa Nui, one must have the patience and persistence to see the work through. One must also practice umanga and hopefully give back more to the island community than they are taking from it; a crucial lesson for all investigators interested in conducting research on the island. These two field seasons have not only renewed my passion for the prehistory of Easter Island, but also for the contemporary people that call Rapa Nui their home.