THE SEMINAR SERIES

Travel – C

March 27, 2010 at 6:04 pm (Uncategorized)

IN SEARCH OF TUTANKHAMUN

~ Maureen Spencer

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I walked across the sunny courtyard brushing a coating of stone dust from my sleeve. It reminded me that nothing lasts for ever. Unfortunately nor did the Ancient Egyptians.

Cairo Museum is very different from others I have seen around the world; dusty stone objects dominate every available nook and cranny. Near the entry sits a large black stone, discovered by Napoleon’s troops in the northern town of Rosetta. But this stone is a fake. The genuine Rosetta Stone resides in The British Museum and Egypt’s fight to reclaim it continues.

Opposite the black stone is a tiny statue of Kufu a pharaoh who, so the story goes, prostituted his daughters to pay for the last stones of the Great Pyramid.

The museum is crammed with people. I walk along a corridor and watch a tourist hung with cameras, photograph a brightly painted stone frieze from olden Thebes. (Luxor)

‘Gees will you look at this Martha, 4000years old? It would look grand in our garden.’

I smile. Round the next corner I find what I am looking for. Tutankhamun’s father, Akenaton. This pharaoh founded the cult of the sun god, aton. His huge sandstone statue, 3-4 metres tall, dominates the room. The misshapen female body with thick lips and slanting eyes looks freakish. Maybe he is the first alien?

A museum guard sauntered into the room. Seeing me alone he said, ‘He’s a weird one,’ indicating the statue, ‘he almost destroyed Egypt.’

‘Yes. But he had a beautiful wife, Nefertiti?’

The guard came over and whispered confidentially, ‘She worshiped the gold, not the man. No woman could love that.’

I was inclined to agree, but instead inquired, ‘Which way to Tutankhamun’s treasure?’

‘Come with me.’ He took my arm and led me into the corridor. ‘You will find him at the end, turn right and up the stairs.’ I pressed five Egyptian pounds into his open hand.       His words rang in my ears. No woman could love that. But I knew together they had six children?

Tutankhamun’s jewellery lies in black velvet lined cabinets in a room packed with tourists and guarded like Fort Knox. I strained to see necklaces constructed of blue lapis, orange carnelian and turquoise, intricately set with gold filigree. Heavy solid gold bracelets lay beside delicate lapis earrings. The pieces are riveting and my imagination races; when did he wear them? As I jostle to see them clearly. Lord, the world and his wife must be in this room today, because the smell of body odour increases as I pass down the line. Beautiful as the jewellery is, I leave and with relief walk out into the airy corridor to see the exquisite golden Selkis goddesses guarding the four corners of Tutankhamun’s massive gilded shrines. I stand and gaze.

A small child stands beside me, staring intently at one golden goddess. Not talking or fiddling, just staring with wide dark eyes. Suddenly she shouts. That’s my mummy,’ and dashes off?

The four caskets, one of pure gold draw me, but then the illusion is shattered, the masks are different? The beautiful striped lapis and gold mask sitting in a cabinet nearby must surely be Tutankhamun, but who is that on the second coffin lid?

Leaving the glittering golden artifacts I make my way over to Tutankhamun’s relatives, The Royal Mummies. In a room with no hint of tomb mustiness, these Kings from 3000 – 5000 years ago look stately in death as in life. Seti I is the most attractive with his flawless mummified head and face. Rameses II with skimpy orange hair and one arm permanently raised looks a very old man. Thutmosis III, for all his battles with the Nubians and Palestine, has a kind face.

Ahead of me a middle aged woman is quietly sobbing into her handkerchief, as she bends over a mummy. Suddenly, a tall sultry eyed young man with longish dark hair bursts through the door. He clutches hold of the woman and with a cut glass English accent says, ‘Mother! They have been dead for thousands of years, you don’t know any of them,’ and with a quick, ‘Sorry’ to me, he bundles the woman out.

It’s time to leave the Pharaohs to their eternal slumber. I locate the stairs and find the souvenir shop. A small blue bust of Nefertiti catches my eye and a museum guide book will show me what I’ve missed.

Holding my purchases I walk outside into the sunshine. I know one day it will all be lost, but today, Ancient Egypt is very much alive.

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Words: 760

To fly to Egypt: Fly Emirates. Melbourne to Cairo 14 hrs non stop.

Fly Emirates to Singapore. Changi Airport motel. Sleep 12hrs

Fly Emirates to Dubai. 2hrs stop over

Dubai to Cairo

Fare cattle-class: NZ  $ 2500 – $3000