Disturbance and Discovery: Learning from Looting at Humayma
Kearyn Hall, 2025 Harva L. Sheeler Fieldwork Scholarship Recipient
The 2025 field school began in Amman, the capital of Jordan, where our first week was devoted to lab-based training. Under the guidance of our instructors, we handled ceramics, practiced drawing profiles, reconstructed fragments, and grew accustomed to the meticulous process of cataloging. This initial week was invaluable; it allowed us to encounter the material record in a controlled environment before confronting its fragmentary and often damaged reality in the field. By the time we left Amman, I carried with me not only a set of practical skills but also a growing awareness of how even small sherds and fragments could speak volumes when studied carefully.
Travelling south to Humayma shifted our focus dramatically. The site itself lies in an austere yet striking landscape of desert plains framed by sandstone ridges. At first glance, it appears modest compared to monumental Nabataean or Roman centers, yet its significance lies precisely in its layered history. Established as a Nabataean settlement, later transformed by the presence of a Roman fort, and subsequently home to Byzantine churches and early Islamic occupation, Humayma presents a unique cross-section of centuries of cultural, religious, and social change. Standing within its ruins, one could trace how different communities shaped the same terrain, leaving behind traces that are at once fragile and enduring.
Life at Humayma quickly settled into a rhythm. Early mornings were spent in the field, where small teams divided their efforts among photogrammetry, architectural recording, survey, and midden documentation. Some days were devoted to tracing architectural features with RTK mapping, others to carefully noting the distribution of ceramics within middens. Afternoons were often spent reviewing notes, comparing interpretations, and discussing questions raised by the day’s work. Evenings, though quieter, were filled with writing, preparation, and the informal but equally important conversations that come with living and learning in close quarters.
Among the many tasks we undertook, the reality of looting stood out most starkly. It was impossible to ignore; it was everywhere. Some disturbances were recent, the scars from metal detectors fresh in the soil. Graves had been torn open, leaving human remains displaced, stripped of the context that would have allowed us to understand their original placement and significance. In another area, a marble platform had been ripped apart, apparently under the assumption that it concealed valuables. In truth, it was nothing more than a built surface, its destruction a senseless erasure of evidence. These episodes made clear how devastating looting is, not only for material culture but for the fragile stories of lives once lived.
Looting also shaped our daily practice. It was evident that looters were aware of our presence, and we were advised not to linger in any single area for too long. This necessity forced us to adapt; recording and documentation were carried out with a heightened sense of urgency, trying to get everything done at once so we didn’t have to worry about it still being there tomorrow to document. It was a sobering reminder that the work of archaeology does not unfold in isolation, but in a living landscape where the past and present are in constant negotiation.
For me, the most difficult moments were those involving disturbed human remains. Confronting looted graves was unsettling; faced with the incivility of leaving someone once buried to wither away on the surface, at first, I questioned whether I was truly suited to pursue bioarchaeology. Yet when I was able to contribute to the documentation of these remains, I realized how meaningful it was simply to approach them with care and respect. That experience did not erase the destruction I witnessed, but it gave me a sense of purpose in responding to it. It reminded me that archaeology is not only about recovering knowledge, but also about honouring the people and cultures whose traces we encounter.
I am deeply grateful to ASOR and to the Sheelers for supporting my participation in this project. This opportunity not only allowed me to gain invaluable field experience, but also helped me realize that I have found something I truly love to do. Thank you for supporting my dream and helping me take these first steps toward a career in archaeology.
Kearyn is in her final year of her Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology and Classics at the University of Alberta. She is currently applying to Master’s programs with a focus on Osteoarchaeology.
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Collection materials can also be accessed remotely. The Center’s Reference Services department can easily be contacted to answer remote inquiries. (Recently, we looked up old municipal records for the Albright Institute in Jerusalem.) The AHC has a large digitization lab and can digitize collection materials at cost. Finally, the Center has the RRAD program (Remote Research and Discovery) that matches a researcher with a research assistant via Zoom and document camera for a nominal cost. This enables researchers to look through collection materials remotely and identify materials they wish to study. These can then be digitized for more careful examination. The AHC looks forward to helping archaeologists and other scholars from around the world to research its historic ASOR collection.
