Traditionally, archaeological labor refers to the physical and intellectual work associated with excavation methods, analysis, recording, and interpretation carried out by all members of the project team, including directors, students, specialists, and locally hired workers. Over the past few decades, scholars have expanded this definition to include the technical expertise and traditional knowledge provided by local excavators and community partners (Cline Reference Cline2023; Leighton Reference Leighton2016; McCall and Álvarez Larrain Reference McCall and Álvarez Larrain2019; Mickel Reference Mickel2019, Reference Mickel2021; Novillo Verdugo and Palacios Tamayo Reference Novillo Verdugo and Priscila Palacios Tamayo2024; Prieto-Olavarría et al. Reference Prieto-Olavarría, Herrera and Herrera2025), the gendered and racialized dynamics of fieldwork (Acebo et al. Reference Acebo, Campbell, González-Tennant, Odewale, Van Alst, White, Mrozowski, Montgomery, Cipolla and Agbe-Davies2025; Flewellen et al. Reference Flewellen, Dunnavant and Odewale2021; Leighton Reference Leighton2020; Voss Reference Voss2021), and the institutional environments that influence worker safety and well-being (Bradford and Crema Reference Bradford and Crema2022; Emerson Reference Emerson2021; Mamani Reference Mamani2025). Indigenous scholars and community knowledge holders have pushed this conversation further by demanding more collaborative, community-based approaches that center local and Indigenous knowledge systems, relational accountability, and the co-production of archaeological knowledge (Angelbeck and Grier Reference Angelbeck and Grier2014; Atalay Reference Atalay2012; Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson Reference Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson2010; Gnecco and Ayala Reference Gnecco and Ayala2016). By foregrounding community relationships with archaeological places as living entities, contested places, and active memorials, this article builds on this previous work with a focus on the Andean Highlands, highlighting archaeological sites not as passive locations of work but as historically situated and socially embedded actors that influence how labor is organized, experienced, and understood.
Archaeological sites in this region are extended expressions of social, ritual, and cosmological life. These relationships emerge from long-standing ontologies that view places as animate, powerful, and deeply relational (Altamirano Enciso and Arguedas Altamirano Reference Altamirano Enciso and María Arguedas Altamirano2015; Bray Reference Bray2015; Cadena Reference Cadena2015; Lozada and Tantaleán Reference Lozada and Tantaleán2019; Salomon Reference Salomon2018; Sillar Reference Sillar2009, Reference Salomon2018). Community members who partner with archaeological projects carry the knowledge of ceremonies, dreams or visions, and local histories or protective practices into archaeological labor, which shape how a site should be approached and treated (Acuto and Corimayo Reference Acuto and Corimayo2018; Lane and Herrera Reference Lane and Herrera2005). We argue that these traditions do not sit outside archaeological work but rather inform its pace, direction, and meaning, as well as the daily emotional climate. Drawing on long-term collaborations in the Huaylas and the Cosma River Basins in the Cordillera Negra Mountains, Ancash, Peru, we present two case studies that show how communities and huacas actively shape hiring practices, daily scheduling, and excavation protocols through community-based knowledge systems to facilitate safe and respectful practice and create dynamic relationships with the archaeological sites themselves. By proposing a framework for archaeological labor that centers relational, ceremonial, and cosmological work both with descendant communities and nonhuman entities alike, we contribute to current conversations about archaeological labor by showing how communities and sites shape both the production of archaeological knowledge and the conditions under which labor takes place.
Andean Ontologies
The Central Andes encompass many languages, histories, and ecological zones where people experience and describe their worlds in dynamic ways. The terms used throughout this article reflect what we observed in Huaylas and Cosma, along with documented ethnographic and ethnohistoric works across the region (Bolin Reference Bolin1998; Bray Reference Bray2015; Cadena Reference Cadena2015; Gose Reference Gose2018; Isbell Reference Isbell1985; Skar Reference Skar and Ardener1993; Smith Reference Smith1989): they draw on concepts from Andean ontologies to understand how communities relate to archaeological sites, landscapes, and the beings who inhabit them. We acknowledge that these concepts do not represent a singular or homogeneous “Andean worldview.” Yet, even though community members in Huaylas and Cosma did not always use these specific Quechua terms in daily conversations, their practices, stories, and relationships with the sites reflect principles consistent with the ideas described later in the article. These concepts are included as tools for interpretation and recognizing the forms of relational labor that guide archaeological work in these communities.
Reciprocity, often described through the Quechua term ayni, plays a central role in shaping relationships among human and other-than-human actors. Ayni involves exchanges of labor, care, or energy that create bonds of obligation and mutual support, sustaining balance among people, landscape, and the broader cosmos (Allen Reference Allen1988, Reference Allen2019; Altamirano Enciso and Bueno Mendoza Reference Altamirano Enciso and Mendoza2011). These exchanges occur not only between families during agricultural work but also extend to mountains, springs, stones, and the huacas that protect, affect, and sustain communities.
Camay is a vital animating force present in people, places, objects, and elements of the natural world (Bray Reference Bray2009, Reference Bray2012; Lozada and Tantaleán Reference Lozada and Tantaleán2019): it refers to the life energy that beings exchange and sustain through ongoing relationships. Ceremonies, offerings, and acts of care nourish camay, strengthening connections among humans, nonhumans, and the landscape. Recognizing camay encourages us to treat ritual, emotional, and intellectual labor as essential components of safe and respectful archaeological work, rather than as practices external to scientific activity.
Huacas (wakas) form a third key concept. They include mountains, springs, large stones, rivers, or monuments that hold camay, agency, and social presence (Allen Reference Allen2024; Altamirano Enciso and Arguedas Altamirano Reference Altamirano Enciso and María Arguedas Altamirano2015; Bray Reference Bray2012; Dean Reference Dean2010). Here, huacas refer specifically to large ceremonial platform mounds. When descendant communities guide excavations, share stories, or recommend ritual protections, huacas are treated as active collaborators in the labor process. These forms of guidance require archaeologists to listen, adapt work schedules, and follow relational protocols that shape the pace and nature of fieldwork.
Despachos, or ritualized offerings, are one of various ways that communities can interact with and acknowledge the camay of huacas. They are often conducted before engaging in any activity that would disturb pachamama (Mother Earth), throughout the field season when significant events occur, and always as a “closing ritual.” Each region has slightly differing customs—sometimes exotics or personal items are also offered for a special petition—but typically the intention is to ask for permission or protection out of reciprocal respect or as a thank you. Together, reciprocity, camay, ayni, and the huacas form the conceptual foundation for this article, illuminating how these relational processes shape archaeological work on the ground.
Region: Cordillera Negra
Our case studies, Huaylas and Cosma, are situated in highland river valleys located in the Cordillera Negra (Figure 1), a dry mountain range in the Ancash region of north-central Peru. The eastern slopes form the western boundary of the Callejón de Huaylas and run parallel to the glacier-peaked mountain range of the Cordillera Blanca. From these eastern valleys of the Cordillera Negra, the snowcapped summits remain prominent and visible, shaping an important part of the environmental landscape of the communities living there. The western slopes of the Cordillera Negra descend toward the Pacific Coast, and although the snow-capped peaks of the Cordillera Blanca are not visible from the basins, the jagged peaks of the Cordillera Negra extend up to elevations of 5,200 m asl, so that stark highland landscapes contrast with views of cloudy lomas and the Pacific Coast, creating a transitional zone that links highland and lowland communities.
Location of archaeological sites and communities mentioned throughout the article. Map by ABM; 30 m SRTM DEM from NASA Earth Data; geographical shapefiles from Instituto Geológico Minero y Metalúrgico.
Figure 1 Long description
The map illustrates the Ancash region in Peru, highlighting various geographical and cultural features. Archaeological sites are marked with star symbols and are labeled with names such as Chupacoto, Kareycoto, and Acshipucoto, while modern towns are labeled with names such as Huaylas, Santo Toribio, Cosma, Huaraz, Pamparomas and Recuay. Rivers are depicted as blue lines flowing through the valleys and study areas are shaded differently to distinguish them from other regions. Lakes are also marked on the map. An inset shows the location within the Department of Ancash, providing a broader geographical context. A scale bar indicates distances and a compass rose shows orientation.
The environment is semiarid, shaped by seasonal rainfall and dry intermontane valleys with various microclimates, rainfed lakes, archaeological sites, and agricultural fields that are managed by highland communities dispersed throughout the region. These ecological conditions activate ongoing relationships between community members and their powerful and animate worlds. Within this setting, the work of huacas, mountains, lakes, and other features influences how communities, like those in Huaylas and Cosma, organize labor, interpret risk, and show care and responsibility to their environments. In the following sections, we highlight the specific ways in which each archaeological team in Huaylas and Cosma approached and negotiated these relationships at each site.
Working with Huacas
Huaylas
The archaeological site of Chupacoto is in the town of Huaylas, which is on the eastern slopes of the Callejón de Huaylas in the Cordillera Negra. The valley is home to roughly 1,500 to 1,600 occupants, who live in the town of Huaylas and in the neighboring district of Santo Toribio (this town separated from the district of Huaylas in the 1990s to establish its own municipal authority). Chupacoto is a large mound that was built more than 5,000 years ago on top of a natural rock formation (Brock Reference Brock2024). It derives its name from the Quechua words chupa (tail) and qotu (mound) that describe the form of Chupacoto, which consists of a main platformed mound with two smaller mounds extending to the west to form the shape of a tail.
During the early twentieth century, Chupacoto had not yet been formally designated as an archaeological site by the Peruvian Ministry of Culture. Instead, the mound and a flat area to the south were privately owned and were used as agricultural fields, a home for the land caretakers, and corral space for animals. On the small mound of Chupacoto was the home of another family that has since been abandoned but continues to be a powerful place within community lore. According to community members, there is a tunnel beneath the house that extends deep into the mound where encounters take place with the devil or with pale white women who beckon visitors inward. In other areas of the mound, others recall the appearance of a midnight bull whose bell rings in the night to signal the location of hidden gold or apparitions along the eastern slopes. These lived experiences and their retelling across generation are active parts of how the Huaylas community relates to Chupacoto and are a way to assert the huaca’s power and vitality.
In 1970, a 7.9 earthquake devastated the district of Ancash and caused widespread destruction throughout the Callejón de Huaylas. Approximately 70,000 people were killed, and 20,000 were displaced (Carey Reference Carey2010; Oliver Smith Reference Oliver Smith1986). In the aftermath, the Peruvian government built temporary shelters for residents, including on top of the archaeological site of Chupacoto. In Huaylas, many who settled directly on Chupacoto built their homes along the site’s southern plaza and mound slopes (Figure 2). During a period of reconstruction led by the municipality and foreign NGOs, residents of Huaylas also began repurposing stones from Chupacoto to use as construction materials for their homes, the town’s streets, and the foundation for the chapel. Through resettlement and rebuilding, Chupacoto became a place of refuge, survival, and reconstruction. Although some residents of Chupacoto later moved back into the town, others remained and live on the site today, once again reshaping community relationships with the huaca.
Map of Chupacoto showing the location of modern homes on the huaca that were built before the 1970 earthquake, after the earthquake in 1970, and much later. Map by ABM; base map: Google Satellite.
Figure 2 Long description
The map illustrates the Chupacoto area, highlighting modern homes categorized by their construction periods: pre-1970, post-1970 and during 1970. The map includes labels for Chupa Chico, Central Mound, Principal Mound and Plaza. The Chupacoto boundaries are outlined and various colored sections represent different construction periods. The surrounding landscape features fields and roads, providing context to the site's layout.
Research at Chupacoto began in 2022 through a project that documented community relationships, daily life, memories, and ceremonial practices at the site. Working with community members, the team recorded narratives and stories and mapped them onto the archaeological landscape.Footnote 1 In 2023, the Kawsay Pacha Archaeological Project (KP) carried out formal excavations that confirmed multiple periods of occupation, between the Late Preceramic (3500–2500 BC), through the Late Intermediate period (AD 1000–1470), and into the present through post-earthquake settlement. The narratives presented here draw from the 2022 community story mapping and the 2023 excavations, which together shaped our interpretation of the site and guided the design of reciprocal labor practices.
Labor Networks and Navigation in Huaylas
From its inception, the KP project aimed to function as a community-collaborative effort grounded in relationships established since 2022. Before fieldwork began in 2023, the team met with municipal and community leadership to outline research plans and discuss community participation. At the time, various community members were employed as part of a municipal heritage project, clearing vegetation at Chupacoto and other archaeological sites in Huaylas. Our recruitment strategy adjusted to word-of-mouth recommendations and referrals from municipal officials, and we committed to hiring one individual per household to distribute project income more equitably across community families.
The KP project also prioritized diversifying resources by having nonlocal team members stay at a local hotel operated by one family, purchasing tools locally, hiring local tradespeople to build and maintain equipment, and arranging meals through multiple households. These efforts were part of a broader strategy to integrate the project into the local economy, ensuring that multiple households benefited from its presence.Footnote 2
In addition to more formal forms of labor, traditional knowledge, storytelling, and organizing with community experts were also essential labor practices that shaped how people understood and engaged with Chupacoto. Going beyond the story mapping conducted in 2022, these practices included meeting with leaders of a former local heritage group that organized artifact recovery, advocated for the protection of Chupacoto, and worked toward the creation of a community museum. We also organized knowledge-sharing workshops in 2023 in which municipal leaders, residents, historians, educators, and students gathered to discuss community relationships with Chupacoto, preliminary archaeological findings, and the future direction of project research (Figure 3).Footnote 3
Knowledge exchange workshop in Huaylas that was organized during the 2023 field season. Photo by Amanda Brock Morales.
Figure 3 Long description
The image shows a room with several people seated in rows of chairs. Two individuals are standing at the front near a whiteboard, engaging with the seated audience. The room has posters and a projector screen visible in the background. The ceiling has a corrugated design and the floor is concrete. The setting appears to be a workshop or meeting, with participants attentively facing the presenters.
During excavation, work schedules were set together with community team members to align the field day with their agropastoral lifestyle. Working Monday through Friday from 8:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. gave community members time to tend their animals and fields in the evenings and on weekends. The ceremonial calendar also shaped excavation plans. In the week leading up to the festival of Mama Shawi held each year on July 8, families prepare for the arrival of hundreds of visitors to Huaylas. Many reoccupy their familial homes on top of Chupacoto that are otherwise abandoned throughout the year, whereas others walk across the site to reaffirm their ties to the place. Because the festival requires extensive community participation and transforms the site into a place of visitation and celebration, we halted excavations and instead engaged in both lab work and relationship-building activities (such as festival participation) for the entire week so that local team members could fulfill their other obligations.
Similarly, during the celebration of the patron saint María de la Asunción in August, the southern plaza of Chupacoto became an arena for the community bullfight, with the mound rising prominently as both a witness and participant in the ritual event (Figure 4). To honor the expectations surrounding the huaca’s role in the festival, excavations needed to be planned accordingly; we finished our work in the plaza first before moving to other parts of the site.
During celebrations for the patron saint of Huaylas, Maria de la Asunción, Chupacoto stands as a witness and participant in the activities. Drone photo by Amanda Brock Morales.
Figure 4 Long description
The image shows an aerial view of the archaeological site of Chupacoto, featuring a central open space surrounded by people and vehicles. Scattered buildings are visible throughout the area, with fields and vegetation surrounding them. The terrain is hilly, with a prominent mound in the background. The scene includes various structures, roads and pathways connecting different parts of the area. The gathering of people and vehicles suggests a community event or gathering taking place in the central open space.
During project planning, hiring, and scheduling, Chupacoto revealed its presence in more subtle ways. Community members spoke about the huaca through memories of the 1970 earthquake, stories of rebuilding, and the site’s ongoing role as a center for cultural activities and Huaylino identity. Once excavations began, Chupacoto’s agency as a huaca became more direct. As is customary at many Andean sites, the team and participating students asked Chupacoto for permission to work by offering a despacho of coca leaves, fruits, small candies, and locally produced wine placed in a crevice of the mound. During excavation, community team members would often chacchar, or chew coca, especially when reaching deeper contexts or encountering bones. At times, team members stepped aside to caminar con la huaca (“walk with the site”), which was a process where they would meditate, smoke an unfiltered cigarette (“Nacional” Brand), and chew coca to renew communication with Chupacoto. These actions affirmed continued permission for work and ensured personal safety. Ignoring this process meant risking que el sitio te jala: falling sick with a serious illness or even death.
Sharing dreams each day also became an important part of the labor process. For some, Chupacoto appeared in dreams as an elderly woman or, less frequently, as an elderly man or the mound itself. On one occasion, a student dreamed that artifacts flowed from an excavation unit, revealing an entrance into the mound where an elderly woman beckoned a white woman inside (Figure 5). The team interpreted this dream as a good sign that Chupacoto welcomed the project and accepted the work. In this way, dreams represented a direct form of communication between the site and the project.
A student participant drew his dream and shared it with team members for interpretation. Drawing by Juan Diego Bernuy.
Figure 5 Long description
The sketch on graph paper includes several elements. At the top left, there is a drawing of a building with a roof and walls made of stones. Below this, two abstract shapes are drawn, representing the styles of Moche ceramics and iconography depecting faces, animals, and stirrup spout bottles. To the right, a person is depicted standing next to a rectangular object , which represents an archaeological excavation unit. Below these, a scene shows a building with stone walls and a roof, with two people standing in front of it. One person’s hair is colored in with yellow color , while the other is standing nearby. A third person stands off in the distance and looks on at the two people standing in front of the stone building, The third person is holding a backpack. The drawing includes various lines and shapes, creating a complex and abstract composition.
Dreams, however, were not always positive, and sharing them created a collective space for safety and decision-making among team members. These conversations encouraged the group to reflect on their emotional readiness for the day, to assess risk, and to decide when individuals needed to take extra care, change work locations, or caminar con la huaca. These dreams served to understand not only team members’ sense of personal protection but also the project’s standing with the huaca.
At the close of excavations, the team shared a final despacho with Chupacoto to give thanks for what the huaca had revealed through the work. The project also extended this gratitude outward to the Huaylas community through a site tour, allowing residents to visit, ask questions, and share final reflections (Figure 6). Together, these acts of thanksgiving reaffirmed reciprocal relationships between the project, huaca, and community.
Site tour held by the Kawsay Pacha Archaeological team at the end of the excavation field season. Photo by Amanda Brock Morales.
Figure 6 Long description
A group of people is gathered in a mountainous area with visible vegetation and cacti. The scene includes men and women, some wearing hats, standing and interacting with each other. The background features hills and trees, creating a natural setting. The group appears to be engaged in a tour or discussion, with one person gesturing towards the landscape and archaeological excavatioins. The setting is open and sunny, with clear skies and distant mountains visible.
Cosma (Santa Province)
The Cosma Complex is a large multicomponent center located on the western flank of the Cordillera Negra mountains at the headwaters of the Nepeña River Valley. Extending over 250 ha, the site center comprises two large huacas, prehistoric terraces, a hilltop fortress, Inca carved stone works, and tombs and huanca (sacred) stones embedded throughout the landscape (Figure 7). Both huacas are within a 15-minute walk from the local communities of Cosma and Collique, which, combined, are a caserío of 80 agropastoralists.
Oblique image of the Cosma basin showcasing the relationship between the landscape, mounds, and the town center. Photo taken from the western ridgeline, facing the east. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 7 Long description
The image shows an aerial view of a mountainous landscape with several labeled areas. The labels indicate Cajarumi at the top, Cosma towards the center, Karaycoto to the left and Acshipucoto at the bottom. The landscape features steep mountain slopes and patches of cultivated land in the valley. The terrain is rugged, with visible ridges and valleys and the image captures the expansive view of the region.
The Proyecto de Investigación Arqueológica Distrito de Cáceres del Perú (PIADCA) project was established in 2014. After more than a decade of field research, excavations revealed that Cosma was established during the Andean Late Preceramic but had several peak-use periods throughout its 5,000-year history (Munro Reference Munro2018; Navarro-Vega and Munro Reference Navarro Vega and Munro2017, Reference Navarro Vega and Munro2018, Reference Navarro Vega and Munro2019). The earliest dates (2900–2400 BC) were collected from within several of the nine Late Preceramic temple rooms that were within the two large pyramid mounds, known locally as Acshipucoto and Kareycoto (Munro Reference Munro2018; Figure 8).
The mounds of Acshipucoto (foreground) and Kareycoto (background) aligned south to north, photo taken facing toward the northwest in the Cosma basin. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 8 Long description
The image shows a landscape view featuring a series of mountains with varying elevations in the background. The foreground includes a dry, rocky terrain with sparse vegetation. This is the mound of Acshipucoto. A valley with patches of greenery and some trees is visible, providing contrast to the rugged mountain slopes. There is a mound in the right side of the image which is thae archaeological site of Kareycoto. The sky is partly cloudy, adding depth to the scene.
Acshipu refers to “concentric” or the “central place,” and coto in Quechua means mound or a “communal place of gathering”—an intriguing name considering the circular temple structure uncovered within it that dates the complex to longer than five millennia ago (Figure 9). Karey translates to “the Gift” in the regional Quechua dialect and is considered by the local community to be a feminine huaca with her own agency, power, and influence for the local people and surrounding region. Constructed in a step-platform design, she reached almost her full height of 18 m during the Late Preceramic. Acshipucoto, the smaller of the two mounds measures 10 m in height and is a 10-minute walk (or 500 m) from her larger sibling. They are aligned on a north–south access, although separated by the Cosma ravine/river.
Ritual chamber inside the Acshipucoto Mound. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 9 Long description
The image shows excavations at the archaeological site of Acshipucoto, featuring stone structures with visible steps and walls. The site is surrounded by a mountainous landscape, with hills and peaks in the background. The terrain is dry and rocky and there are two dogs visible in the scene. One dog is standing on the stone structure, while the other is positioned further back, near a pile of rocks. The archaeological walls create a circular formation and enclose a circular patio space with a circular sunken floor.
Cosma is a historically significant community that was uniquely sovereign for centuries (Figure 10). Although the other towns and villages in the region continued to be controlled by the Jimbe Hacienda lower down in the valley, the people of Cosma obtained ownership of their own lands by 1714 and regulated their own public works and community through centuries-old kinship bonds. These bonds are still heavily integrated into community life, especially through the custom known as small-town leadership or the faena system, which integrates communal labor ties led by elected “pedestrian mayors.” In Cosma, the faenas run small civic projects, such as painting the school, repairing the bridge, or digging irrigation canals (Thurner Reference Thurner1997:91): at least one man from each household contributes his time and labor to these projects, and one woman from each household helps with communal meal prep and serving.
The Cosma plaza/town center with church, facing the south. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 10 Long description
The image shows a small town with several colorful buildings, including a prominent structure with multiple towers in the center. The town is surrounded by mountains, providing a scenic backdrop. The sky is partly cloudy, adding to the picturesque setting. The foreground features a dirt path leading into the town, flanked by buildings on either side. Vegetation is visible in front of the central building, enhancing the town's charm.
Faenas also function at the smaller family scale, providing extended labor for building and repairing houses, harvesting crops, and other activities. In 2014, our first field season, we found it difficult to hire local workers. We ended up organizing a community meeting and a faena with the help of the president, helping us get our foot in the door; after that, we were able to organize several days of labor to clear vegetation from the mounds and build relationships with men in the village who wanted to work. Traditionally, the “faena mayor,” or the leader of each project, is responsible for providing a large communal meal, which is held on-site and involves musicians and dancing throughout the day. Using the faena system was one of the fastest and easiest ways to mobilize individuals, clear the mound quickly, and reinforce relationships with the community as a whole.
Cosma’s early sovereignty, separating it from the established hacienda system, empowered the native inhabitants of the area to maintain ownership of their own lands during the colonial era. This could also be attributed to the influence and protective agency of these early huacas and the landscape. This is significant when considering traditional community organization, kin, and labor practices tied to these locales.
Labor Networks and Navigation in Cosma
Because of Cosma’s small size, an official meeting with all community members is called by the town president before the start of each field season where the project team discusses excavation plans, timeline, and weekly workdays; this meeting is held in the gazebo of the central plaza. The amount of annual funding determines the crew size (averaging 10–12), which can mean rotating out crew every four to five days to ensure that at least one male from each family in the community is in the weekly rotation. Although women are also full voting community members and have always had the option to work on the site, none have volunteered, considering archaeology not to be “women’s work.” After a day or two on rotation, some community members choose to opt out of excavating. Over the years, a core group of team members has been established. These established team members are paired with new members of the crew to ensure that proper excavation methods are being followed.
The field day and week are organized around agropastoral labor practices to ensure each project member can attend to their own livestock and fields. Even though team members are paid for full workdays, the field day starts at 8:00 a.m. and ends at 1:00 p.m., allowing time for workers to complete their own early morning tasks and to spend a full afternoon in their fields each day. Additionally, we vote as a team on holidays, local and national, that the crew want to observe.
Cosma is a traditional “Comunidad Campesina,” a community recognized by the state as a self-governing unit that has rights over their territories and a shared identity. As mentioned, when our team started excavations at the site in 2014, it was difficult to hire workers to help with the large task of mound clearing. Through meetings with the community president and other respected elders, a faena was organized. Anyone who works for the day gets fed (and often takes food home for their families). Although traditional labor networks such as the faena can be understood as physical expressions of ayni in action, the complex history of colonialism, the introduction of Catholicism, and the development of religious syncretism interwoven into the sacred prehistoric landscapes also influenced everyday labor organization and planning. This was often done by including religious deities and metaphysical or elemental spirits into daily conversations. Even though Catholicism is the dominant religion for most descendant communities in the region, in Cosma it is often practiced through deeply rooted syncretic traditions shaped by reciprocal relationships with ancestors, mountains, springs, huacas, and other nonhuman beings. In this blended landscape of belief, the oral histories, legends, fantasmos (ghosts or spirits), and lores are tied to specific landscape features, archaeological sites, and significant spiritual entities, both existing within the Catholic and animistic cosmological spheres.
For example, the respect and reverence paid to the patron saint of San Lorenzo are on par with how the huaca of Kareycoto is referenced in conversation as a protective and stern grandparent, who is associated with strange “supernatural” happenings within the basin and can bless and “castigar” (punish or cause illness). Oral histories, lores, and supernatural events that have been shared with project members over a decade of work in the Cosma basin are usually anchored to specific places and archaeological vestiges, including, although not exclusively, the large mound of Kareycoto.
Illness, especially that occurring after a day in the field, digging, or long hikes to sacred places (springs, lagoons, mountain peaks, or shrines), is often caused by mal aire (“bad air”) that a person can encounter through huacas, touching pottery or artifacts, or from the presence of unseen entities. As protection, team members carried ruda, or a piece of the rue plant, in their pockets, and community members regularly insisted on egg cleansings or flower baths to ensure project members’ safety and that of the community. The daily act of coqueando was also a form of daily communication with the huacas and ancestors: crew members continued to ask daily for permission and protection from any negative energies they might encounter during excavation.
Before the onset of fieldwork each season, the team conducted a traditional despacho on the mound to ask permission to excavate (Figure 11). In Cosma, the direction of cigarette smoke, the appearance of a hummingbird or a hawk, or a gentle breeze during or shortly after a despacho may signal the huacas’, pachamama’s, ancestors’, and local apus’ (mountain deities) acceptance of the offering and granting permission.
Despacho offerings for Kareycoto at the start of the field season. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 11 Long description
A patterned cloth is spread on the grass outdoors, displaying a traditional offering. Arranged on the cloth are various flowers, including yellow, purple and white blooms. Several cigarette packs are placed alongside the flowers. A container with a lid is positioned at the top of the cloth. The setup is surrounded by grass and rocks, indicating a natural setting.
Although the crew was always reverent to the mound and ancestors throughout the years of excavation and would comment on what the mound wanted or felt by them digging there, the dynamic somewhat shifted in 2023 when the team exposed the underground gallery system beneath the Late Preceramic architecture. This event caused many of the stories associated with ancient tunnels, demonios, duendes, and serpents—previously told tongue in cheek—to become stories of warning. The level of spiritual care practiced by the crew intensified. The first 15 minutes of every field day was spent coqueando—or connecting with the coca leaf and tobacco in silence for several minutes—before discussing dreams and odd happenings that had occurred since the previous workday (Figure 12).
Early morning coquando with members of the field crew, before starting work. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 12 Long description
Five individuals are seated on a mound, facing away from the camera. They are positioned in a row, with shovels and buckets placed nearby. The setting is a mountainous landscape, with clear skies and distant hills visible in the background. The people are wearing hats and casual clothing, suggesting a fieldwork environment.
Caminar con la huaca, as described earlier for Huaylas, appears to be practiced the same way in Cosma, although it is known by the different colloquial term of coquear. The time spent coqueando was an important morning meet-and-greet with each other and the huaca; it was also the time to inform how crew members should be placed in specific units, including who should avoid going into the gallery for that day. Evangelical crew members were affected most by dreams, because they did not coquear and could not properly protect themselves accordingly. Additional despachos (repeated when a significant find or burial occurred), morning dream talks, coqueando with the mound, and regular limpias (ceremonial cleansings) consistently reaffirmed communication and connection between the crew and Kareycoto to guide the daily organization of the team members spatially within the units.
As in Huaylas, the patron saint festival in honor of San Lorenzo in Cosma is one of the biggest events of the year, held between August 8 and 12. Every year we coordinated our field season around the festival. Hundreds of people from around Peru return to Cosma in the days leading up to the festivities, redirecting labor toward festival preparations. The grand finale is the corrida, or bullfight, and many of the men go on wild bull-capturing expeditions (chucaro) deep into the mountains in the weeks leading up to the corrida to ensure they have enough bulls for the event. Whereas the bullfight in Huaylas takes place near Chupacoto, Cosma’s corrida takes place in the colonial plaza in town. During this event, the Spanish influence on the community is foregrounded, drawing attention away from Kareycoto as a central and powerful community focal point (Figure 13). Both mounds are regarded as Indigenous ancestral spaces, distinctly separated from the Catholic elements of the festival.
The Cosma plaza toward the end of a corrida (bullrun). Photo taken from the church belltower, facing toward the north. Kareycoto can be seen in the background. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 13 Long description
The image shows a plaza with several people gathered in groups. The plaza is surrounded by buildings with visible rooftops. In the background, there are mountains and hills, creating a scenic view. The sky is illuminated by the setting sun, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The plaza is decorated with strings of flags, adding to the festive atmosphere. Trees are visible on the hills, contributing to the natural setting.
Discussion
In both Cosma and Huaylas, everyday interactions between the community members, mounds, ancestral spirits, and spaces on the landscape were informed by ongoing discussions with local and Indigenous crew members. These interactions took many forms in a long, shifting, and fluid process that included descendant communities, their traditional knowledge, and deeply ingrained and nuanced relationships with their living landscapes (Figure 14).
Archaeological vestiges/landmarks that are significant to community members, oral histories, and stories that make up and frame the Cosma Basin. Figures by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 14 Long description
The image consists of two landscape views of the Cosma basin, each labeled with significant prehistoric elements and landscape features. The top view is facing northwest and includes labels such as Watsi, Caja Rumi, Atun Hirca, Kunka, Kareycoto and Acshipucoto. The bottom view is facing southeast and includes labels like Kunka, Acshipucoto, Kareycoto and Iglesia Hirca. Both views depict expansive mountainous terrain with valleys and cultivated areas, highlighting the geographical and historical significance of the region.
Although archaeological places in Andean contexts are experienced as animate persons, this may not be the case cross-culturally. Yet, what we emphasize here is that the physical place where archaeological labor and excavation take place matters, and local values and traditions reverential to them should be consulted in all stages of project planning, development, and execution (Figure 15). Archaeological contexts are not bounded neutral backdrops, and even sites that are not considered as living beings carry power through their histories, meanings, community memories, and connections to people and past events (Beaulieu Reference Beaulieu2025; Supernant Reference Supernant2022).
Nati, a Cosmeño, milking her cow in a communal field, with Kareycoto in the background; A black excavation shade tent can be seen on Kareycoto’s mound top. Photo taken facing slightly northwest. Photo by Kimberly Munro.
Figure 15 Long description
Nati, a Cosmeño, is milking her cow in a communal field. She is positioned near the center of the image, surrounded by greenery. The cow is standing close to her. In the background, there are mountains and a mound with a black excavation shade tent on top. The scene is set in a natural landscape with trees and shrubs scattered around.
Building on scholarship that recognizes the power of archaeological sites as meaningful and active elements within present-day landscapes, our Andean case studies demonstrate two ways that choices surrounding labor can be applied to archaeological work in other contexts: (1) by incorporating community rhythms into how labor is organized and (2) by recognizing the emotional, ritual, and spiritual dimensions of archaeological work.
Incorporating Community Rhythms
In Huaylas and Cosma, the project team, daily schedules, and organization of research timelines were structured around community agricultural cycles, caregiving responsibilities, local festivals, and economic commitments (Figure 16). This approach is rooted in the increased call to action by archaeologists to collaborate and recognize local and descendant knowledge through labor contributions by our community partners (Atalay Reference Atalay2012, Reference Atalay2019, Reference Atalay, Supernant, Baxter, Lyons and Atalay2020; BigWolf Thompson Reference BigWolf Thompson and Emily2024; Bria and Carranza Reference Bria and Carranza2015; Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson Reference Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson2010; Colwell-Chanthaphonh et al. Reference Colwell-Chanthaphonh, Ferguson and Lippert2010; Douglass et al. Reference Douglass, Quintana Morales and Manahira2019; Nicholas and Markey Reference Nicholas, Markey, Chapman and Wylie2014; Van Alst and Gover Reference Van Alst and Gover2024). Bayfield (Reference Bayfield2022) describes this work as creating a shared “activity timespace” where collaborators take the time to align agendas, share knowledge, synchronize rhythms, and continually negotiate roles through an ongoing collaborative process. These rhythms did not occur immediately but were born out of long conversations and multiple intentional meetings with community collaborators and local authorities. This meant spending extended periods of time, year after year, with communities and their respective huacas to witness the local understandings between people and their dynamic landscapes and to build meaningful relationships of respect and care with our community partners.
Labor strategies according to local and traditional knowledge in Huaylas and Cosma.
Figure 16 Long description
The infographic titled 'Incorporating Community Rhythms' outlines four strategies: equity distribution of labor, community meetings, traditional labor practices and timelines/seasonal festivals. Each strategy is paired with its implementation method and purpose. Equity distribution of labor involves hiring different families for food, housing and skilled labor to spread economic resources across households. Community meetings include workshops, forums and small-scale meetings with stakeholders to create space for decision-making and knowledge exchange. Traditional labor practices focus on faena and ayni-based work, emphasizing kinship networks and household labor management to build reciprocal relationships. Timelines/seasonal festivals involve scheduling directly with the team and coordinating around major festivals to align with community rhythms and fulfill social and ceremonial obligations.
More importantly, the act of incorporating community rhythms was not viewed as a logistical challenge separate from the archaeological work but was brought into project planning as a part of and central to the success of the projects. When applying for funding and organizing fieldwork activities, we budgeted time and resources for relationship-building activities, such as attending ceremonies, hosting community meetings and forums, and documenting local oral histories, to help guide labor decisions: these activities become an essential part of the archaeological work alongside archaeological survey, excavations, and lab analysis. The goal of these projects was never only to collect archaeological data but also to develop sustained relationships and co-create knowledge with community collaborators.
Recognizing the Ritual and Emotional Dimensions of Archaeological Labor
The Andean Mountains are deeply ingrained in Andean cosmology and sacrality. For the majority of Indigenous or Quechua speakers in the highlands, Catholicism is the central religion. However, many still practice a syncretic form blended with ancestral practices and animistic beliefs often shaped by reciprocal relationships with and between family and community members, ancestors, mountains, springs, local deities, huacas and other transcendental spirits, or nonhuman actors, which cannot be separated.
Archaeological labor in Cosma and Huaylas was structured around these ongoing relationships between the archaeologists, local communities, and these sentient actors in the process. Labor began with asking permission from the huacas through despachos and offerings, which were not symbolic acts but instead the opening acts of labor. Daily practices, such as chewing coca, not only functioned as physical support but also as a means of communication, protection, and emotional connection between workers, ancestors, and the landscape (Allen Reference Allen1988; Brescia Seminario Reference Brescia Seminario2024; Stolberg Reference Stolberg2011). Additional protective measures, such as the use of ruda and limpias and carrying talismans, reinforced practices that prioritized care for both the body and the spirit of the community team members. Finally, dream sharing not only served as a form of communication between community members, the huacas, and archaeologists but was also treated as a legitimate form of knowledge that communicated local understandings of the landscape (Lane and Herrera Reference Lane and Herrera2005; Mannheim Reference Mannheim and Tedlock1987; Swancutt Reference Swancutt2024). Dream sharing also provided an opportunity for the team to check in with each other daily, gauge emotional responses to the archaeological work, and make labor decisions that took these emotions into account (Figure 17). These interactions were not always discrete events or formalized choices but emerged out of a dynamic process of paying attention, making mistakes, learning to listen, having sincere conversations, and recognizing community needs (Henderson and Laracuente Reference Henderson and Laracuente2019; Kretzler and Gonzalez Reference Kretzler and Gonzalez2023; Schmidt and Kehoe Reference Schmidt and Kehoe2019) as archaeological excavations and research unfolded.
Ritual dimensions of archaeological labor in Huaylas and Cosma.
Figure 17 Long description
The infographic outlines the ritual and emotional dimensions of archaeological labor, divided into practice, implementation and purpose. The opening ceremony involves a despacho or offering with coca leaves, candles, fruits, alcohol and flowers, establishing permission and protection with huacas. Coquear or caminar con la huaca includes chewing coca leaves, smoking a filter-free cigarette and meditating for daily connection with the landscape, respect and personal safety. Dream consultation involves sharing and interpreting dreams at the start of each workday for collective communication and safety. Other protection practices include carrying ruda plants, talismans, or fetishes to ward off evil and ensure safety. Stories and legends involve interviews and meetings to provide historical context and community relationships. Site closure may include another despacho, site tours and shared team meals to ensure reciprocal obligations are met.
Although not all archaeological sites worldwide are considered persons, many are places that carry community histories and memories, as well as stories of violence or trauma, or they are literal places of rest for Indigenous ancestors and descendant communities. Historically, archaeology has contributed to feelings of mistrust and violence that include and extend beyond the Andes because of extracting archaeological information, displacing communities in the name of heritage protection, and separating the value of archaeological places from present-day realities. For example, for Black and Indigenous communities in the United States, many archaeological sites are tied to histories of enslavement and structural violence. In many parts of the world, archaeological interpretations of place can also be political and contested (Arnold Reference Arnold1999; Bender Reference Bender and Bender1993; Bender, ed. Reference Bender1993; Wilson Reference Wilson2019), so that even collaborative work can generate tension, disagreement between stakeholders, and strong emotional responses to archaeological research (Supernant Reference Supernant, Stewart, Beck, Fryer, Galaty, Garvey, Hoover, O’Shea and Ventresca-Miller2025). More recently, archaeologists have been called on to confront this legacy by asking what it means to give back to communities long engaged through unequal and extractive research relationships in archaeology and how we can support and empower descendant communities through collaboration efforts that contribute to processes of “repair, reconciliation, and restitution” instead of extraction (Acebo et al. Reference Acebo, Campbell, González-Tennant, Odewale, Van Alst, White, Mrozowski, Montgomery, Cipolla and Agbe-Davies2025). This article emphasizes that recognizing the spiritual, emotional, and ceremonial power of a place is not only important for interpretation and research but must also be incorporated into the labor process as a central part of engaging with archaeological sites as meaningful places beyond archaeological value and by building relationships of care with the communities that welcome us and their sacred places.
Collaborative archaeology as both a relational and healing process is particularly relevant, because archaeology has the capacity to reconnect people with their histories, ancestors, and landscapes while also strengthening community networks and mental health through collective support (Salerno et al. Reference Salerno, Bang, Sokol, Lagos and Lozano2023; Schaepe et al. Reference Schaepe, Angelbeck, Snook and Welch2017). In practice, doing this kind of archaeology must be intentional. It can involve discussing difficult or contested histories of a place with collaborators before conducting investigations or working with them to document memories and stories of place throughout the entirety of a project. It might also look like a daily check-in with local team members to share how the work is affecting them personally and adjusting activities accordingly. Some community members might need moments of prayer, ceremony, or short storytelling breaks that can be organized during the workday or over shared team meals to acknowledge any tense histories, the ancestors, or the significance of the place. Importantly, although these moments may indeed offer insight for archaeological research, their purpose is not to produce data but instead to foster care and connection between the entire team and the landscapes with which we engage.
Conclusion
This article has provided two archaeological case studies from neighboring regions of the Andean Highlands, sharing similarities and differences of modern-day archaeological labor practices when multiple ontologies and voices are considered through all phases of project planning and execution. At Chupacoto and in Cosma, labor extended beyond excavation to include ritual practice, dreams, protective rites and negotiation, celebration of festivities, and stewardship. These practices demanded flexibility, active engagement, listening, and working alongside local/descendant communities, their local landscapes, and the huacas to guide how, when, and where work could proceed. These cases also demonstrate how archaeological labor is not just about producing data but is also about working to sustain meaningful relationships between the project, community, and archaeological sites and to safeguard the well-being of everyone involved.
We argue that archaeological labor does not begin and end with excavation and analysis but includes the ongoing work of building relationships with the communities and engaging landscapes as meaningful places instead of neutral objects of study (Hoffmann Reference Hoffmann, Supernant, Baxter, Lyons and Atalay2020; Surface-Evans Reference Surface-Evans, Supernant, Baxter, Lyons and Atalay2020). They are powerful places embedded in long-standing relationships between people, memories, and emotional histories; recognizing this requires integrating these relationships into how projects are organized, planned, and how team members (local and nonlocal) engage with the landscapes where they work. In this way archaeological labor not only becomes a means of producing knowledge but also a practice grounded in respect, accountability, and care.
By centering these relationships between local communities and the physical place where work takes place, we call for current and future generations of archaeologists to consider how archaeological labor extends beyond trenches and traditional archaeological methods through these ritual, relational, and community archaeological approaches.
Acknowledgments
This work and publication would not have been possible without the generosity and collaboration of the Comunidad Campesina de Cosma and members of the Huaylas community whose knowledge and stewardship continue to guide these projects.
In Huaylas, Amanda Brock Morales is especially grateful to local leaders and respected knowledge holders including Marco Reyes, Doris Gutiérrez Ardiles, Raúl Flores, Martín Rodríguez, and Zenobio León Rojas. She also thanks Naomi Flores, Ricardo Flores, Catalino Chauca, Isabel Urbano, Carlos Alegre Mejía, Javier Alegre Villafena, Natalie Ascensio, Victor Balthazar, Elías Cano, María Elosia Mejía Flores, Jorge Cano, Antonio Saenz, Aurora Collas, Zeneida Aguirre, Elsa Caballero, Carlos Ascensio, Teresa Marchena Huete, Julio Saenz, and Aberlardo Acosta for generously sharing their memories, stories, and experiences of Chupacoto and the 1970 earthquake. Thank you also to the excavation team at Chupacoto, including Juan Diego Bernuy García, Gabriela Flores, Allison Huerta, Enrique Ramos, Kalei Oliver, Pedro Ángeles, Roberto Arellán, Jorge Alba, Jorge de la Cruz García, Jullian Cotos, Walter Ángeles de la Cruz, Ronald Canchano Callán, and Jesús Gonzáles Bravo who taught us how to walk with the huaca and learn to understand our dreams. ABM sincerely thanks her codirector Cinthya Cuadrao Mallqui, who has years of experience working in highland Andean communities and played a crucial role in helping facilitate community collaboration and the labor process. She would also like to offer gratitude to the huaca Chupacoto, whose presence has played a key role in guiding a deeper understanding of how to practice more respectful, responsible, and reciprocal archaeological research.
In Cosma, Kimberly Munro is particularly grateful to the huacas, Kareycoto and Acshipucoto, who gracefully permitted our presence on site; continue to reveal themselves, their depths, layers, and stories year after year; and kept us safe throughout the entirety of the excavation process. We are also very grateful for the local workers whose labor and expertise shaped the fieldwork, including Alan, Diógenes, Prospero, David, Cesar, Cristian, Walder, Catalino, Reuben, Carlos, Shoshe, and Moshe. Fieldwork was carried out in Cosma with the support of dedicated colleagues, including Dr. David Chicoine, Craig Dengel, Sintia Santisteban Barrantes, Samuel Querevalú, Rachel Witt, Shaina Molano, Jacob Foreman, Matt Helmer, Roy Osmar Lezama García, Elvis Paul Monzón Layza, William Feltz, Jean-Paul Girard, Tomas Kralik, Jenna Hurtubise, Ashley Whitten, Andrea Repp, Mallory Baldridge, Kristi Fernández-Kim, and Jesús Maza. Kimberly Munro also wants to acknowledge codirector Jeisen Navarro-Vega for his collaboration and leadership in the field since the project’s inception and for the continued approval of this work by the Municipalidad del Distrito de Cáceres, Provincia del Santa, Áncash, and the Ministerio de Cultura del Perú (Lima and DDC-Áncash).
Fieldwork in Cosma (2014, 2015, 2016, and 2023) was authorized by the Ministry of Culture in Peru under the following permits: RESOLUCIÓN DIRECTORAL N°: 329-2014-DGPA-VMPCIC/MC, RESOLUCIÓN DIRECTORAL N°: 203-2015-DGPA-VMPCIC/MC, RESOLUCIÓN DIRECTORAL N°: 280-2016/DGPA/VMPCIC/MC, RESOLUCIÓN DIRECTORAL N°: 000322-2023-DCIA/MC. Fieldwork in Huaylas (2023) was authorized by the Peruvian Ministry of Culture in Peru under the following permits: RESOLUCIÓN DIRECTORAL N° 000261-2023-DCIA/MC.
Finally, we would also like to thank the reviewers for their thoughtful feedback.
Funding Statement
The fieldwork that made archaeological research and community collaborations possible in Huaylas was funded by the National Geographic Society (2023), the Lambda Alpha Graduate Student research grant (2023), Society for American Archaeology Matthew Tobin Cappetta Scholarship (2023), the Fulbright Hays DDRA (2022), the G Chapter of the PEO organization (2022), University of Florida Charles Fairbanks scholarship (2022), International Research abroad for Doctoral Students grant (2022), and the Dean’s Office Ruth McQuown Award (2022). Funding for the Cosma Archaeological Project (Proyecto de Investigación de Arqueología del Distrito de Cáceres, Áncash [PIADCA]) has been generously provided by multiple agencies for more than a decade. We gratefully acknowledge the American Association of University Women (Research Leave Fellowship, 2025–2026); the Rust Family Foundation (2023, 2019); the Brennan Foundation (2014, 2019); the American Philosophical Society Lewis and Clark Fund for Exploration and Field Research (2016); the National Science Foundation (Dissertation Improvement Grant No. 1547315, 2016); the National Geographic Society (Waitt Grant, 2015); and Louisiana State University West Russell Field Research funding (2013).
Data Availability Statement
No original data were collected for this article.
Competing Interests
The authors declare none.
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