Haagen Klaus studies the ancient and mysterious remains of societies along Peru’s northern coastal areas. A recent project has seen him racing against the clock in the modern-day town of Olmos to rescue skeletons from a looming construction project and the scathing rains of El Niño.
My three students and I had just arrived in northern Peru. Before us was the skeleton of a man who had literally not seen the light of day for almost 1,000 years. Though I’ve made nearly 20 trips to South America, this was not going to be a routine field research season. We were under a lot of pressure. Time was very short, and the threat of El Niño rains was on the horizon. Above all, we were hoping that the skeleton of this man, along with 80 other people from his community, could speak to an enduring puzzle of one of the great ancient civilizations of South America.
Since 2001, I’ve been working as an archaeologist on the north coast of Peru—one of the independent centers of native culture, technology, art, religion, and engineering in the Americas. Far from the homeland of the Inca, the desert coast interests me more. It was settled around 12,000 years ago and became home to many chiefdoms, states, and empires. Within the north coast, the large and resource-rich Lambayeque Valley was an epicenter of cultural development. Its archaeological record, well preserved in the desert, provides an incredible window on a unique chapter of history unlike anywhere else in the world or throughout time. It’s like a laboratory to study the unfolding of civilizations that were quite different from our own.
Archaeologists study the past through many kinds of information, such as with the analysis of ceramic vessels, art, or architecture. I am a bioarchaeologist, and ancient people themselves are at the center of my work. Bioarchaeology examines health, growth, disease, physical activity, diet, violence, and genetics from ancient skeletons. Some people might think that looking at skeletons is morbid, but bioarchaeology is about life. Bioarchaeological science has learned to “read” the bones of the dead. In reconstructing their lives, we can directly learn about the culture and worlds in which they lived. In fact, the human skeleton is probably the most information-rich form of evidence in the entire archaeological record.
In 2003, I launched the Lambayeque Valley Biohistory Project. For more than a decade, my colleagues and students from Peru, the United States, Japan, and Canada have been working more than 750 km (470 miles) north of the capital of Lima, and examined more than 2,000 skeletons to reconstruct Andean history. Often, we excavate sites ourselves. Lambayeque has become my second home. Living and working so closely with some of the local people has found them becoming part of my extended family.
One of the most important ancient civilizations was the Sicán, who developed a powerful, flourishing state between 800 and 1350 A.D. Today, the Sicán are known from nearly four decades of pioneering research by Japanese archaeologist (and my mentor) Izumi Shimada (check out www.sican.org). During the Middle Sicán era (A.D. 900-1100), they invented bronze, built colossal pyramids, crafted the finest gold and silver objects ever made in the ancient Americas, and brought probably more than 1.5 million people under their rule. But for every new understanding, it seems as if two new questions emerge.
I’ve long been captivated by ancient social structures. For example, it’s now clear that Middle Sicán culture was multi-ethnic. Most of the local people appear to be Muchik descendants of the earlier Moche civilization. However, many of the lords and leaders appear ethnically Sicán. Artifacts, burial patterns, folklore, and genetic variation suggests these ultra-powerful elites had biological and cultural ties to the north—to southern Ecuador—and maybe even the enigmatic, matriarchal Tallán culture encountered by Spaniards in the 16th century. Where do the Sicán lords really come from? What was the nature of their connections to foreign lands and other peoples outside of Lambayeque?
The modern town of Olmos is beyond the furthest northern fringes of Lambayeque. I’ve gotten to know Lambayeque very well as my home away from home—but Olmos is so far north that I had never actually visited there before. It was settled on an ancient land route connecting Lambayeque to the Ecuadorian frontier. Olmos is ringed by imposing mountains and known for its searing summer heat.
Olmos is also something of an archaeological “black hole.” There are many sites in the area, but no one has ever done archaeological research there. This changed in late 2013. A public works project was laying pipes just outside of town near the remnants of an adobe brick pyramid. Workers stumbled upon an ancient cemetery beneath a road. The work stopped, and an emergency excavation project began. Archaeologists called in from the Lima-based contract archaeology company ASE (Asesoría y Servicios) labored to document, protect, and rescue the finds.
Here’s one of the original news pieces (in Spanish) covering the find.
For me, the discovery of burials in Olmos was a bombshell. They were in the right place and time to address questions about Middle Sicán society that I had pondered for a decade. Who indeed was living in the far northern reaches of Middle Sicán territory? Were they the bridge between the lords of Sicán and Ecuador? Could they have been a Tallán colony, or a far-flung enclave of Sicán citizens? Were these people independent, allies, or enemies of the Middle Sicán state?
Time was short. After a millennium in the ground, the skeletons were not in good shape. They had been only partially excavated by ASE, hurriedly removed from the ground in blocks of earth and stored in a temporary field lab. The longer the bones rested in their blocks, the greater the likelihood that they would begin to degrade and fragment even further. It was also unclear as to where the peoples’ remains would be stored after ASE’s lab work was done and if we could study them in the future. The National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) was predicting a possible El Niño event for mid to late summer. El Niño originates in the waters of coastal Peru and hits the hardest there, too. With the 1998 El Niño floods (that wiped entire towns off the face of the earth) still fresh in everyone’s memory, it was unnerving to imagine what could happen to everyone in flood-prone Olmos.
We were invited by ASE to study the skeletons. Financial support for the travel, food, and lodging came from the National Geographic Society and George Mason University (my home institution where I teach in northern Virginia). I scrambled to assemble a research team composed of my best students. Given the short notice, three of them could make the trip. We dashed towards Peru in May before final exams had even started. Three days after landing in Lima, we lifted the first cloth shroud covering the remains of that ancient man from Olmos and began our work.
Over the next few weeks, we’ll share with you in upcoming blogs the process and methods of bioarchaeology. I’ll talk about our life in the lab and the field, what happened when the rains started to fall, and the genuinely surprising finds that came to light. Stay tuned!