Elegant necklace made of grossular garnet beads (green) with gold bicone beads and pendant beads of orbicular jaspers . Mohenjo-daro, Pakistan. Courtesy of the Department of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Pakistan.

A History Told In Beads
by Lynda Mc Daniel

At a recent demonstration of bead-making techniques, two Pakistani artisans introduced American audiences to their ancient traditions.

From across the sun-filled room, it looked a little odd. Up close, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. What appeared to be a simple blue string hanging within an exhibit of elaborate beaded jewelry was actually a necklace of lapis beads so delicate that it draped as softly as a strand of silk.

I would soon learn that these tiny beads are drilled by hand, without electricity or modern machinery. I would watch as they were painstakingly crafted with a precision developed centuries ago, using only humble tools -- a small handmade bow, a sheep's knuckle, a bowl of water. I would hear stories about four-day journeys into war-ravaged Afghanistan to buy the lapis, followed by the uncertainty of smuggling and the uncertainty of hours of hard work yet ahead. And about how, like this fine strand of beads, each one leading into the next, the ancient art of bead making led to important cultural developments in stone faceting, glass making, technology, and trade. Within this strand of beads, even smaller than what we call seed beads, lie the seeds of once-grand civilizations and the power of human expression.

The ancient Indus cities were built with baked brick and included some monumental buildings such as the Great Bath at Mohenjo-daro, Pakistan. In the background is a later Buddhist period stupa. Courtesy of the Department of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Pakistan.

The exhibit and bead-drilling demonstration was held at the Bead Museum and Learning Center in downtown Washington, D.C., as part of a larger exhibition entitled Great Cities, Small Treasures: The Ancient World of the Indus Valley, curated by Dr. Jonathan M. Kenoyer, associate professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The exhibition, which will appear at its final U.S. venue, the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena, California, through April 30, gives U.S. audiences their first opportunity to see the rarest and most precious Indus Valley objects from Pakistani museums.

INDUS UNCOVERED. The Indus civilization, which flourished between 2600 and 1900 B.C.E., achieved many historical firsts, but was not discovered until the late 1920s, when excavations opened at Harappa and Mohenjo-daro in what is now Pakistan. Only then did the world learn how the Indus people built the first planned cities, controlled vast territories through trade and religion rather than warfare, may have developed writing as early as the Mesopotamians, and devised techniques for making agate beads and silver and gold jewelry that are still in use today, 4,000 years later.

A terra cotta female figurine shows how beads were worn; the many necklaces and the wide belt may represent the kind of belts made of carnelian that have been found at Mohenjo-daro, Harappa, and the other sites. Courtesy of the Department of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Pakistan.

"Ever since I started my research in the Indus Valley civilization, 23 years ago, I've been working with bead makers in order to understand aspects of traditional technology that would help us to interpret the ancient archaeological materials," Kenoyer says. "But my interest in beads dates back to when I was a little kid. My parents, who were missionaries in India, have a photograph of me when I was five years old wearing a necklace of Job's tears beads that I bought when we visited a Zulu village in Durban, South Africa. They said I really wanted to buy those purple-dyed beads."

Kenoyer lived in India until he was 18 years old, returning to the U.S. to attend college at the University of California- Berkeley, where he earned his Ph.D. before moving to the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Each year, from the end of December until May, he works at excavation sites in the Indus Valley.

His respect for and interest in beads grew as his archaeological excavations uncovered convincing evidence that beads were among humans' earliest expression of abstract ideas. Although not functional in the sense of a tool or a weapon, beads carry strong symbolic significance.

"We know beads are important," he says. "We find terra-cotta and carved stone figurines painted with pendants and multi-strand belts, probably carnelian belts. From looking at the figurines, I get an idea of the types of ornaments that the ancient men and women were wearing - bangles, beads, pendants, belts."

Archaeological finds reinforce the importance of beads in ancient societies. This adult woman from ancient Harappa was buried with two shell bangles on her left arm and five carnelian beads at her waist. Harrappa Museum Pakistan. Courtesy of the Harrappa Archaeological Research Project.

Kenoyer explains that without written text, he cannot state exactly what these beads meant to residents of the Indus Valley, but written texts from Mesopotamia do reveal how that culture viewed certain stones. Lapis, for example, was used as protection against the evil eye. Carnelian, with its deep red color, related to blood and health. Even today, traditional belief maintains a relationship between health and many stones, such as carnelian, emerald, ruby, and serpentine.

"In burial sites in Harappa," Kenoyer continues, "we found one woman with five carnelian beads worn at her waist - no gold, no silver, just five beads. We don't know what those five beads meant, but they clearly were an amulet for protection against a health problem. She wore them in life, and when she died, they buried her with them because amulets are associated with an individual and cannot be passed on."

Excavations have also unearthed beaded ornaments that could be passed on, including a lavish belt made with long carnelian beads undoubtedly worn by a very wealthy woman. Kenoyer says that valuables like this were probably buried under the floor of a house or hidden behind a wall, and whoever hid them died before telling their whereabouts.

"Last year, we found a bead pot with 133 little beads and other trinkets, all of which came from a time period from 3300 to 1700 B.C. It's very exciting because in that one pot, we have the whole history of that site in terms of the technology, where they were getting their stone, how they were drilling them, and so on.

In the 1996 excavations at Harappa, a small pot was discovered that had a collection of 133 beads and amulets. These beads were made from a variety of natural rocks as well as some imitations that were meant to look like lapis lazuli, turquoise, and banded jasper. Harrappa Museum, Pakistan. Courtesy of the Harrappa Archaeological Research Project.

"In Harappa, they started out with the simplest technique - just pecking at it and popping a hole through. Then we have drilling with tapered stone drills that were just a bit harder than the bead stone. Later, they developed exquisite drills that were especially designed to perforate long stones."

To do that, the Harappans made a drill from a special rock they kept secret, which allowed them to make beads that were longer, thinner, and more delicate than any other culture's in the world. The stone does not yet have an official name, though Kenoyer calls it "ernestite" after Ernest Mackay, the first modern-day person to find it. ("Mackayite" already refers to another stone, no relation to Ernest.) Following a host of tests - x-ray diffraction, scanning electron microscope, microprobe studies - Kenoyer searched geological textbooks and reference volumes, but could not find a match.

While lapis in Mesopotamia helped ward off evil spirits, it meant something quite different in the land where it is mined -- Afghanistan. "Often places where things come from they have a different meaning from where they go," Kenoyer explains. "We may wear baseball caps for one reason here, but in India, if you wear a baseball cap, it means you are trying to be an American. The same with lapis. In Afghanistan, it was more important to make tiny beads, which they embroidered onto their clothing. The tiniest beads that we find are only about 1.5 millimeters long and one millimeter in diameter. The effort in making them was more important than the rock itself."

A few years ago, Kenoyer asked Mohammad Ashoor, a bead maker in Peshawar, Pakistan, if he could make beads that small. "'Yeah sure, no problem,' he told me," Kenoyer recalls. "The next year when I came back, he'd made those beads. I'd like to point out that as much lapis was taken off to make those tiny beads as the large ones.

Lapis lazuli and carnelian bead necklaces made by Mohammed Ashoor.

FAMILY BUSINESS. Mohammad's family all work on the beads - two wives, seven sons and their grandmother. He and Abdul Momin, his 20-year-old eldest son, have accompanied the exhibition to America, fulfilling Kenoyer's dream of bringing them here to demonstrate the time and energy involved in their bead making. "They can make copies of ancient beads with the same quality of the originals," Kenoyer continues, "and this helps collectors get very nice replicas without having to loot archaeological sites. These are not like what you find at museum stores. These are copies made with the same ancient techniques by craftsmen who have been making them for generations."

As the Bead Museum fills with people and mounting anticipation, the two bead makers take their places on colorful blankets on the floor in front of a long, low table and prepare to start their demonstration. They are dressed in traditional clothing, soft chemise shirts and baggy pants known as shalwar (literally, "100 folds"). Both men are dark and handsome, hardly seeming like father and son. Their embroidered hats are the strongest clue to their age difference -- Mohammad's is a more traditional wool cap, colorful but subdued compared to the glittering lamé threads woven into his son's.

Father, Mohammed Ashoor, drills lapis lazuli using a single diamond drill, at the demonstration at the Bead Museum in Washingon, D.C. Photo: Jo A.S. Carpenter.

Mohammad starts by picking up a small bow, approximately 24 inches in length and made from mulberry wood. He turns the diamond-tipped drill with a quick, well-practiced motion over the small lapis slab positioned in a bowl of water to keep the process cool. He has done this thousands of times before and maintains his steady rhythm in spite of the spate of questions from the spellbound audience.

Kenoyer's deep respect for the father-and-son team is obvious as he serves as interpreter, speaking Urdu, a language they have in common, rather than their native Turkmeni.

"I started making beads about 20 years ago," Mohammad says. "I would go to the desert where there are many abandoned graveyards from the ancient archaeological sites [circa 3000 B.C.E.] and find ancient beads and rocks. I made copies of them and sold them in the bazaar in Kabul and Mazar-i-Sharif in Afghanistan. To get started, I bought all my drills and diamond pieces for 500 Afghanis [$5] from an old pottery repairman who could no longer see. Fifteen years ago, I moved to Pakistan because the Russians invaded Afghanistan, and I didn't want to serve in the army and fight."

Next, Abdul Momin takes his turn with the bow, gracefully bending over a larger piece of lapis in a deeper bowl of water and working the bow with his own rhythm. One-on-one, he speaks good English, but he relies on Kenoyer in front of the inquisitive group.

Son, AbdulMomin,at the demonstration at the Bead Museum in Washingon, D.C. Photo: Jo A.S. Carpenter.

"In the old days," Momin begins, "we made drills by taking a piece of copper or steel and grooving the tip, twisting it around so that it could hold the diamond. Now, we use a syringe needle that is already hollow and easier to fit with a diamond. We have different sizes of syringes so we can make a tiny bead with a small syringe, big beads with a bigger one."

Obviously fond of his two friends, Kenoyer asks a leading question about Momin's marital status. "I am getting engaged now, maybe in five months I am married," Momin responds. "My father, my mother, and my grandmother selected her. She can make beads, cook, wash, weave carpets -- and make babies." Father and son smile at each other, the audience laughs good-naturedly.

Kenoyer explains that once the tiny beads are drilled, traditionally they would be strung on a wire and placed on a piece of leather that is rolled above a grinding stone. Today, they rely on machine polishing, which is much faster. Kenoyer hastens to add, "Machine drilling is not faster. A machine cannot drill faster than these guys are drilling by hand. It's important for people to understand that in order to appreciate what they are doing." The polishing machine, like the nylon string of the bow and the syringes, are minor concessions to modern life; the process remains essentially the same.

Tiny turquoise beads and short bicone lapis beads made by Mohammed Ashoor.

Q&A SESSION. The audience is standing now, as much in tribute to these masters as to see better. As the drill turns faster, their rapid-fire questions keep pace.

Where did you get the diamonds? From India and China.

How much do they cost? One carat of industrial diamonds costs 100 rupies or $3 per carat.

How do you make the drill bits? We smash the diamonds on a rock, sort through the chips, find the right size.

How long do chips last? A long agate bead requires two diamond tips, but 10 long lapis beads take only one diamond tip.

How do you polish lapis? With leather and rouge buffing powder.

Has the political situation affected supply lines for lapis?

Suggested Links Harappa & Mohenjo-daro information - Archaeological findings, photos, history and more. The Bead Museum The Pacific Asia Museum More photos of the replicas and information about the artisans producing them. Government of Pakistan

This question slows things down, its answer more complicated. The pair tell of the long journey into Afghanistan to find lapis and the smuggling of the material back into Pakistan by truck. They talk about how they will only use the best quality from the lapis slabs. Whatever they cannot use, they sell to others who make lower-quality beads, and they warn that some cheaper lapis is actually dyed. (Kenoyer recommends testing lapis with a dab of nail polish remover.) They sell off the lowest quality, and Momin laughs as he tells how he recently dumped a whole truckload of low-quality lapis under a friend's house because it was cheaper for his friend than buying gravel.

Politics and smuggling aside, their occupational hazards are relatively benign. Because the diamond drill is hard to see, they do experience some eyestrain from looking for and at the tiny chip. And Momin complains of the patience required in mounting them: "It's the biggest pain!" But no back trouble, no neck trouble, and no trouble breathing dust. "And since they don't smoke or drink," Kenoyer adds with a chuckle, "they are very healthy."

For the exhibition, Mohammad and Momin learned double-diamond drilling, a very sophisticated technique used in regions of the Indus Valley that extended into what is now India. They don't plan to use it when they get home, however, for a reason familiar to human beings the world over. "Because we've always done it this way."

But the historical importance of double-diamond drilling is significant, and to illustrate why, Kenoyer describes an experiment he conducted for making an elaborate carnelian belt using the ancient Harappan-style stone drill.

"It takes one full day to make each drill bit, and each bead requires three drills per side or six drill bits for each bead. The rate of drilling is 2.5 millimeter per hour, so a 60-millimeter bead takes 24 hours to drill, or three eight-hour days. Chipping per bead takes 30 minutes, grinding four hours, and polishing four hours, for a total of 10 days per bead. A 36-bead belt requires 360 days plus 15 days estimated for heating to deepen the color, for a total of 375 days. That's why it was so valuable!"

Later, the advent of double-diamond drilling technology totally washed out the market for beads. "All of a sudden they can chip out carnelian beads quickly," Kenoyer notes. "You can see this in early historic sites in India -- everyone and his mother is wearing stone beads. So they had to find something cheaper for the common people, and that's when they began making glass. By 1700 B.C.E., black, yellow, and red glass has come in that looks like carnelian. In fact, from a distance, you cannot tell the difference. Then, because the market was flooded with beads, they needed something more valuable, and developed the faceting of gemstones around 600 to 300 B.C.E. The oldest faceting I know of is in India, with rock crystal and, later, amethyst. Through this early faceting of beads, making them more glittering and brighter and more valuable, we eventually developed gem-cutting traditions."

After the demonstration, the audience rushes to buy some of the beads and necklaces made by Mohammad and his industrious family. The atmosphere takes on a festive, almost frantic mood, Momin's English rising above the din with an occasional "That's $40," and "That's $25." But there is a quality about the sales that transcends mere commerce or covetousness, an irrespressible desire to own something from such ancient traditions and of such beautiful quality and materials. And by these two men, whom we have watched at work.

Kenoyer, too, is proud. "These people have helped me in my own study, and this is a way to give them something back by exposing them to people who are interested in buying their work. Americans cannot travel to Peshawar very easily, given the political situation -- it's off limits -- but these guys can come here."

And they will be back. Kenoyer reports that there have been many invitations for them to return. Soon, we can only hope.

The Bead Museum and Learning Center is located at 400 Seventh Street NW, Washington, D.C. 20004, (202) 624-4500.