Sharing Passions, The Temple of Karnak, and She Who Was King

The Luxor, Egypt

I loved ancient Egypt so much as a teenager that I actually read romance novels. I loved reading, but romance was not my genre of choice. But two novels come to mind Child of Light, by Pauline Gedge, about Hatshepsut, and Wrap her in light, by Sandra Adelson, about the wife of Tutankhamon, Ankhsenamon.  There was another one called She Who Was King, but I cannot find any evidence of it. I remember I liked that one the most. I remember how she died at the end, willingly drinking the poison given to her by her son so that he could replace her. “To Egypt!” she toasted as she drank from the chalice so that her beloved country could remain strong and stable.

Looking back, these were books that focussed on these strong women in a way that required a man to help her achieve was made her great. A man that they, of course, had to fall in love with.  All the fierceness I feel when I think of these women are reduced. I identified with them because they were unappreciated by modern powers that be. This is changing. With Egyptologists like Kara Cooney who are re-examining the life of women like Hatshepsut in creative and meaningful ways.

When you visit the temple of Hatshepsut at Deir-el-Bahari you do not see a testament of romance. Instead you are witness to an attempt to create a whole new narrative to establish her claim to the throne. This mortuary temple, a place where she was mummified, tells the stories of her sacred birth as a child of Amon-Re, the state god at the time. In mute stones that seem to organically grow from out of the hillside are the tales that connect her to the goddess Hathor, a cow goddess of love and motherhood. One unique relief on one of the southern walls shows Hatshepsut suckling directly from Hathor’s udder. A powerful message of divine connection indeed. The surviving external Osirid statues, wherein the pharaoh’s face is placed on a statue representing the god of the underworld, clearly demonstrates the features of Hatshepsut.

As I predicted, the narrative of our friend’s time on the throne is variable depending on who is telling it. She is often called a queen despite the clear pharaonic references. She is called an usurper. Our guide on our first tour, a woman, downplayed her role as a leader because she was not involved in the army as her son was. The incredible improvements in infrastructure, trade (she is famous for her seeking out the land of Punt…modern day Somalia…in an attempt to trade and build international relations), and stability with the two lands meant nothing compared to the conquests of the army. While things are changing, Hatshepsut, like many historical women, is still overlooked and underappreciated by modern narratives.

When the temple came into view I did not, as many predicted, become overwhelmed in tears. If there has been a betting pool of when this would happen, I believe the odds-on favourite would have been this moment. But something else did happen.

I became numb. I almost felt disconnected, like I had left my body to look on upon my arrival from a distance. As our guide purchased our tickets we waited while stared from afar. The temple which I had seen so many times on purpose sat before me in the desert. It gleamed in the sunlight. It sat with a regal pose snuggled up against the cliff behind it. Its two ramps invited me to ascend it and seek out the sacred chapel chiselled out of the rock.

Already, at 8am in the morning, the sun was beginning to demonstrate its oppressive nature. Gone were the days of comfortable temperatures of Cairo. We haggled with one of the vendors for the least offensive and tacky hats we could find, unsure if mine actually fit properly. We walked the rest of the way through the gauntlet of vendors and climbed onto the mini train that would bring us to the temple. I allowed myself to be sucked into sitting with the driver so he could take photos of us and the temple with my phone while I steered the train. I’m not convinced this was the safest course of action, but I did manage to keep us on the wide walkway paved onto the desert floor. When the shenanigans were over we dismounted and I allowed myself a moment to just stare.

She was beautiful. Unique in its structure, this temple is a collection of sharp angles and clean lines. Influenced by the ziggurats of Mesopotamia, we do not see the ornate columns of with lotus and papyrus capitals we find in the temples of Luxor and Karnak. Despite the obvious human influence, the architecture seems to organically blend in with the environment while, at the same time, juxtapose with the craggy surface of the mountain. Nearby, cut into the rock face, are the tomb openings of the workers of this space who were given the honour of being buried near a living god.

I was overwhelmed by the majesty of this place. As the wind picked up and sand cooled us off, we ascended the ramp silently. Occasionally I would pause and turn around, searching for the Nile which was always nearby. When we reached the top the tour continued. Eventually we made our way into the inner sanctuary where the mummification would have taken place. This area was the reason for the existence of this place. Years of massive work in order to support a process of forty days or so.

Our next stop was the Valley of the Kings. Your ticket allows you to visit three tombs under general admission. Seti I, Ramses IV, and Ay are extra costs along with the choice of taking photos within the tombs. None of this bothered me as I planned on returning at least twice in the near future. The tombs are larger on the inside that the pyramids. The ceilings in the passageways are around ten to twelve feet high and at least six feet across. When you get to the end and enter the burial chamber the roof can be as high as twenty feet in some tombs. Not all rooms are available in each tomb. Some ante chambers are too small, inaccessible, or simply not worth the effort to open. The colours in some of these tombs, including Ramses III and and Ramses VI, are quite vibrant. The tombs can demonstrate specific traits of the occupants, or favourite activities. Ramses IX’s tomb, while still maintaining some colours, consists of painted on scenes rather than the use of carved or raised reliefs. He apparently spend his money on more earthly desires and did not invest in his tomb. Merenptah’s tomb shows evidence of a failure to measure properly so that the sarcophagus can fit past the columns, causing the last minute chiseling out of bases. Thutmosis III had the most dramatic evidence of last-minute decision making. After chiseling a significant length of the passageway, the workers discovered that they had stumbled upon another tomb. They then changed the direction of the passageway in order to avoid further disturbances.

These signs of everyday moments in the ancient world, the explanation to the boss of your poor design or the sudden realisation that the project has taken a left turn at Albequerque, are my favourite parts of archaeology. They bring out the universal qualities of human nature and the passions and skills we present to history. It serves as a connection across the centuries.

Our guide for this tour was not good. She was clearly uninterested in the locations of our tour, she talked a lot about how she was looking for a husband, and she complained constantly about her family. In my state of wonder I ignored most of it. When she brought us to the ‘educational’ tour at the Alabaster Village, I was not surprised.  A collection of alabaster workhouses which, surprise, sold a great many products for us to purchase, this place was a common occurrence in most tours I have taken throughout my travels.  They show you how they do their work with a little demonstration, provide your with refreshments and a tour of their selection, and then offer to help you purchase many items which will bring you lifelong happiness.

This is always a disappointing experience for our hosts. Eric and I are not souvenir shoppers. We never have been and probably never will be. We did a cursory glance at the objects around us, refused the refreshments, and told our guide we were ready to go.

She made her surprise and disappointment of our quick visit abundantly clear. This made me unhappy. At least hide it. I recognise that this is break time for her and that she gets a commission, but we had been at it for less than three hours. We spent significant time inside the tombs, where she was not allowed to join us, so we were hardly breaking her back in work. Earlier, I let her talk me out of seeing the tomb of Seti I. She was astounded we would spend so much money when there was ‘nothing there’.  At the time I simply decided to avoid pushing the situation as I was returning anyway, but now, standing outside of the factory watching her call our cab I became annoyed. I think Eric, while unimpressed, was fine up until now, but her next act irritated the snot out of the both of us.

Our lunch was included in the tour. We expected those touristy places where they play music or dress up in costumes or whatever that usually happens in these situations. Not our favourite but we were willing to deal with it. Instead, she said we were having a lunch on the Nile on our own personal boat.

“Really?” I asked flatly. Not really a question.

Eric regarded her. “Is the boat included in the cost?” Definitely a question.

No. It wasn’t. If we did not want it she could try to find something else or perhaps we have an idea or perhaps…

Eric and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and agreed to the price she presented. It wasn’t that much after all. And the Nile was a nice idea. Long story short, our lunch on the Nile consisted of a take away lunch of chicken or vegetable with fries and a drink on a boat that would be used for tours or ferrying. There was bread and tahina, which was awesome, and I enjoyed the young boy, off from school, helping his dad with piloting the boat. After I finished my lunch I sat back and looked out onto the Nile.

As our guide droned on about how her company doesn’t pay her enough I leaned back and watched the coastline drift by. I wasn’t listening. When I glanced at Eric I could tell he was doing the same. Despite the situation I actually felt happy. After so many years I had finally seen the temple of Hatshepsut. The reality of that was finally sinking in. The Valley of the Kings had been everything I had expected, and more. I was with Eric and we were on the Nile. Life was good.

When we reached the dock on the east bank the young son, no more than ten, clamoured out and reached out his hand to me so that I may safely disembark. He was so serious and professional it made my heart melt. This moment was worth the guide’s nonsense.  We tipped the boy and his father and thanked them for their efforts and made our way to the Temple of Karnak.

The largest place of worship in the ancient world, the Temple of Karnak is a place to behold. The rambling ruins spread far and wide. There is a mosque still in use on the site and there are plenty of examples of early Christian use. Loved by the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, and those the can came afterwards, this sacred space has been is use, even if only barely, for four thousand years. Even as the structured crumbled, unattended due to lack of resources, it was still a place of worship. If there is such a thing as residual energy within mad made structures, the Temple of Karnak is flush with it.  Our guide did her brief vanilla tour and, to our great relief, left us to our own devices. We wandered through the pylons and courts and passageways and examined the carvings of the gods and pharaohs, all begging for our attention. Amon-Re, resplendent in his feather plumed headdress was everywhere. Being the state god and native to ancient Thebes, this is not surprising. Ramses conquering the enemies is a common theme, but he is not alone. Thutmosis III is here too. And Seti I. There is a small statue with the likeness of Tutankhamon, and a some of the sphinxes that graced the front entrance.

In the second courtyard stands an obelisk built by Hatchepsut. It was one of you to grace the entrance of the second pylon. There is an empty base where the other stood, now on the shores of the Thames in London. I smiled when I saw that base. The obelisk in London was the first ancient Egyptian obelisk I ever saw. I stood at its base and took a full roll of film’s worth of pictures to commemorate that moment. I remember the sticky, damp day even now. It seemed so far away from this hot place.

And then there was the hypostyle hall. A magnificent colonnade of massive pillars that dwarfs anyone who stands next to one. Replete with carvings of pharaohs offering praises and gifts to the gods, it is an intense place of worship. Isis is there, her throne sitting upon her head. So is her sister Nepthys. Osiris is also present, green skinned and mummified. Ibis headed Thoth records the great deeds of those who ruled with his pen. And Ma’at, goddess of truth, justice and balance, is everywhere, her feather of truth prominent in her representation.

At one point one of the guards showed me the way to the stair case the priests of Amon-Re used to raise the festival flags. I walked up and was given a breathtaking view of the ruins from on high. Alone, with only the wind as my company, I soaked in this massive, wonderful, exhilarating place. This was the place I had seen in photographs, read in books, studied in school and presented in class. This was the Temple of Karnak and, for a brief moment, I felt it was all mine.

Later, as we casually walked back towards the main entrance, I watched Eric as he enthusiastically pointed out reliefs and spoke with excitement about the early Christian carvings we discovered. I felt deeply his enthusiasm and loved so much that we could share this place together. When I grew up I had Terrie, a childhood friend, to share my love of ancient Egypt. But mostly it was a solitary passion. Eric always listened to my stories and ideas and encouraged me, but on this day I was able to truly share my passion with him. He was able to walk with me and find interests of his own in ancient Egyptian history.  I will never forget that walk back.

Afterwards we saw the Temple of Luxor, only a few moments away from our hotel. This was what I saw when we first arrived in Luxor. Unlike the sprawling Temple of Karnak, this smaller site is tightly surrounding by traffic, an island of serenity within a river of honking and swerving. Without a tree in sight we were grateful for what little shade the columns and walls provided. Once our tour guide checked out we wandered a bit. Near an area where early Christians made a chapel we recorded a video for our niece Kipi, showing her the beautiful colonnade that surrounded us. Like me, Kipi began an interest in Egypt at ten years old. Now, a year later, I believe that the bloom of that interest has wilted, making way for other passions. For a brief moment though, it was fun to watch. Nevertheless, we made sure we included her in this tour so that she could see just a snippet of what we once shared. I’d like to think of it as a seed of an idea that will grow into her own journey to this land, to these ancient places.

God, I hope so. It would be like I would be with her then as she was with us that day in the hot afternoon sun of Luxor.