Last week, the AMIDEAST Egypt study abroad group and I took
a Nile cruise travelling against the currents to Upper Nile. For those unaware
of Egyptian geography, the Nile flows from the south to the north of Egypt,
emptying into the ocean north of Cairo and forming the Nile River Delta.
We began our journey with an over-night train to Luxor. I
did not know what to expect. While laying down in our sleeper-train bunk beds,
my roommate Kathleen and I, while rocking with the train, excitedly whispered
about what we might see, hear, and who we might meet. I am aware of my hopeless
romanticism of antiquities and all things ancient that has been kindled from
years of watching National Geographic and Discovery Chanel specials with my
father.
These shows, rich
with dramatic Oriental music, flowery superlatives, and charismatic experts
like Dr. Zaki Hawass, the former Minister of Antiquities, inspired me to study
cultures- dead and alive.
When we arrived in Luxor it was 5 in the morning. The sun
was peeping out between temple walls, and that is when I fell in love. The
sheer size of Karnak temple dumbfounded me. To imagine that these temples have
been standing for a few thousand years leaves me numb. Coming from the United
States, I cannot even fathom something that is so old. The history of what we
call the United States is young and we have little connection of civilizations
before the settlers of Pilgrim Rock. Egypt is a whole different story.
I pressed my hands to the stone walls (our secret because we
technically aren’t supposed to) It was cool and sturdy. It was real. Walking
through the ancient halls made me feel so small. I was towered by columns the
width of six of me and a height of eight of me.
Above, I could still see rich blues, yellows, and
terra-cottas which have stood the test of time and never faded. In those
moments, I was sad. When I was a kid, my father and I promised we would go here
together one day. A history buff, Baba always told me fabulous stories of
strong kings and glorious kingdoms. He used to travel the world in the comfort
of his La-Z Boy recliner by flipping through travel books, planning trips he
would never be able to live out. Here I was across the Nile experiencing what
he had always wanted to do.
But it was Baba who sent me here with warm wishes. He was
the one who encouraged me to study abroad wherever I wanted to go. He gave me
his marked up Lonely Planet with places he would want to see. He was the one
who told me that once I drink from the Nile, I would always go back. When I return to Egypt, Baba and I will walk
the halls of Karnak together.
Romance prevails, reality intrudes. While I was walking
parallel to the outside walls of the temple, I noticed a perfectly shaped
crescent indent in the stone façade. It was as if someone had carefully and
consistently taken a rock to the stone temple for what reason I did not know.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” my anthropology professor Dr.
Nicole Hansen approached me from behind. I was supposed to go on her tour but I
went off by myself first. I blushed profusely because I was expected to have
gone with her and I was afraid she would call me out on it. An Egyptologist by
trade, Dr. Hansen studies the connections between ancient and modern Egyptian
societies. Dr. Hansen told me that these bizarre incisions have been made by
women who in villages around Luxor. These women crumble the stone into finely
grinded powder to mix with water and drink to increase their fertility. We kept
walking.
We kept talking until out of the corner of my eye, I saw
something that looked oddly familiar. On the wall ahead of me was a hieroglyph
that I recognized from my anthropology class with Dr. Hansen. It was a glyph
with three lines that were tied together at the top. I got on my knees just to
make sure, and I could not believe it. The night before when I was riding the
train to Luxor, I was reading an academic article for class about birth rituals
in Upper Egypt found in villages today. When a woman is soon to conceive, her
family ties three foxtails to the front door to shoo away evil spirits and to
symbolize the birth of a new child. The same symbol can be found in etched in
rock thousands of years ago on the face of a temple. Five days after Karnak,
while visiting a Nubian village, I saw three fox tails hanging above a door.
My moment of academic bliss was interrupted as the tourists
began to pour in. We had been an hour early at the temple so I had had the
luxury of having Karnak all to myself. But now, hundreds of tourists dressed
rather immodestly (for Egyptian standards) gawked and photographed away. I watched a woman in a tank top and a short
skirt take the hand of her toddler whose little bikini top kept sliding off her
shoulders. I watched sunburned men in shorts furiously clicking photos of their
sunburned family walking like an Egyptian next to ram statues of Ra. I saw and
Egyptian man in a gallabiya (traditional
Egyptian clock especially worn in Upper Egypt) approach an old Japanese couple
by greeting and bowing with a Konichiwa,
his Japanese heavily peppered with a deep Egyptian accent full of rrrrr’s and
kha’s. I even saw a woman (British. I could tell by her accent), with dark kohl
outlining her eyes dramatically, just like Ancient Egyptian royalty did.
Everyone wants to be a pharaoh, it seems.
Crammed at the entrance/ exit of the temple, I could not
help laughing. These temples are very much alive. They are not empty. They are
not a history lesson. They are spaces adapted through time- whether a ritual of
birth, good luck, or for consumerism, Karnak still has a pulse.
