SAQQARAH & OLD HAUNTS REVISITED
I woke up several times before Karima's knock on the door, for the light was now coming in bright and hale through the cracks of the shutters and the traffic in the street was restless and noisy. I just opened my eyes to look at Lizzie, to kiss her shoulder or her neck or her cheek, to wonder if we could not spend the day as we were, cozy and warm like twins in the womb, in superb serenity. Then, irresistible, sweet sleep would force my eyes shut for another short spell while I held some part of Lizzie's body like a life buoy. I also became aware of Karima's movements and hoped she would go away and let us sleep but at around eleven, she knocked at our door and I said, 'Yes?' She opened the door slightly and put in her head. A friendly smile on her face.
'Are you all right?'
'Yes. A little sleepy.'
'Shall I prepare breakfast?'
'In an hour.'
She smiled again and shut the door. 'Lizzie, my love, good morning.'
'Do we have to get up?'
'I was wondering about that too.'
'Gosh, I'm all stiff and my body aches. You really do abuse me!'
'There is a Greek saying, not so good in translation, which says, force me despite my laments. For you it would be, make love to me despite my protestations.'
'Quite true, my sweet. But you did knock me out.'
'And you squeezed me dry, like a juicy orange.'
'Will you give me my bath?'
'Yes, my love. I'll take a shower and shave and then I'll give my baby her bath.'
It was difficult getting out of bed. Nearly as bad a shock as being born. Leaving the warmth of the womb. Leaving my twin, my little sister, the passionate other half of myself. I stumbled out of bed, opened the shutters and tottered to the bathroom stiff and tired, already contemplating an afternoon nap. After the hot shower, feeling considerably better went to the bed and uncovered Lizzie, kissed her, caressed her, and massaged her energetically and then pulled her to the bathroom. She had her eyes shut and a smile lingered on her lips as I pulled and pushed and made her sit on the toilet seat. I massaged her shoulder muscles at the base of her neck and she moaned from multiple sensations.
When she finished I led her to the shower and into the warm jet of water. I let her enjoy it for a while and then shampooed her hair and washed her face, ears and neck. I rinsed the soap and had to kiss her because she was as beautiful as ever with her soaking, straggly hair sticking to her face and neck. I washed her body more meticulously than I ever washed mine and then massaged her until my arms and fingers hurt. After the massage, I let her relax for a few minutes in the warm water and started the hot and cold routine holding her captive, ignoring her playful shrieks and efforts to get out of the icy spray. We finished and made love half wet as we were, spreading the towels on the bed, sick with desire and longing and then I dried and combed her hair and we dressed and went out for breakfast feeling superbly fit. Karima's breakfast as usual was sumptuous, perfectly attuned to our oversize appetite and we soon cleared the table.
'Lizzie, put on your sneakers again. We'll be doing quite a bit of walking today. In any case, we have to burn up all of Karima's breakfast calories. Bring your cap along and your sunglasses. The sun is glorious outside.'
'Ah yes, Saqqarah. Pyramids and tombs.'
'Mastabas, my dear. Do use the right lingo.'
'Mastabas and sarcophagi, desert and camels, pharaohs and mummies, Lisa and Michael. How remote Boston seems from here. And in three days, I shall be back. Back to my mother and my roots. After what seems like an absence of many, many years, not just a few months. It is good I shall be alone for a while. I must take stock of what has happened to me in the last few years. Think things out.'
'So we are going to the right place, today. Nothing like a cemetery to concentrate your thoughts. I, personally, have nothing to think out. In a way, destiny swept me along. I had very little say in the matter of my life. My love for you, that overwhelming event in my life, finally will be my redemption, my happiness or my great misfortune. There is no middle path.'
She came round the table and hugged me and kissed me and put her head on my chest and listened to my heart murmur, Lizzie, with every beat and we stayed a while this way. Karima embarrassed left the room.
'Yes, I have to take stock of my life. In my last year at high school, my classmates elected me as the person most likely to succeed. Half the school was in love with me. What a dismal failure I turned out to be.'
'Things will change. Now you have money and you have me.'
'Even the money troubles me. I wish I could give it back with disdain. But I cannot. I keep inventing reasons to keep it. That he doesn't need it, that it is my recompense for the suffering I went through, that it is a way of punishing him, that after all, it was a present he gave me. Excuses all. I might yet return it one day if I find my way in life.'
'But you shall find your way in life and make the right decisions.'
Lizzie went inside to put on her sneakers and glasses and then we thanked Karima and left. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky of the purest blue but the weather was chilly and a slight wind was blowing. The traffic was quite thick given the hour and day. It was one o'clock Sunday and it was a working day but it was also day- off for the shopping district and a few small businesses that kept their pre-revolution habits. We found our car, crossed the Kasr El Nil Bridge and headed for the club. I asked Lizzie if we could just pass by the stables to have a look at Bedouin. I had forgotten his existence. Well, not really. He was always there, at the back of my mind, giving me guilt feelings. We drove down El Gezira Street, past the Cairo Tower with the Nile to our right and the club to the left. The Nile, shimmering in the sunshine with feluccas adorning that particular stretch of water giving Cairo a most distinctive touch of beauty and charm. We drove along the semi circular road that bordered the club to go to the stables. We entered the big iron gates of the club and the club security waved us in.
'What a huge club,' said Lizzie.
'Another legacy of the British. Funny that a shy, one is almost tempted to say unsociable and placid people have always been obsessed by clubs. Both in England and in all their colonies. It was very exclusive when they were around. One had to be very special if he were not British to become a member. It really is an extraordinary place.
You can do practically any sport you wish in here. From genteel croquet to murderous karate. You can read in the library and pray in the mosque. Have dinner in its restaurants, a drink at the bar, place your bets at its racecourse and make your uppity contacts in the golf pavilion. Really quite extraordinary.'
We parked just inside the gates and walked to the stables. Am Mohammed, the groom, and Said, our stable boy, greeted us with smiles.
'Welcome, ya khawaga. Messiou Pablos told us you were away. He has been taking care of the horses and Said, here, has been taking Bedouin out every day for his exercise.'
Said smiled shyly looking away. He was short, dark, with smooth, jet black hair like an Indian and a sweet bashful smile. He was not very bright and he was careless and lazy. His hands were thick and small with short fingers, which somehow were not very flexible. He was obviously illiterate but I could not imagine him being able to manipulate a pen or a pencil with those hands. He was barefoot most of the time even in the coldest of winter days and I suppose he could put out a lighted cigarette with the soles of his feet and not feel a thing. His clothes were filthy and I wondered how a person in this state would care to keep the horses clean. He earned a wretched wage and when I protested about this to Pavlos, he asked me not to spoil his employees and in any case, he said, Said was not worth a piaster more. Consequently, I shut up and started passing out tips every time I saw him roughly doubling his monthly salary. I was madly in love with Lizzie but that did not stop me loving her even more when I saw in those beautiful green eyes the compassion with which she contemplated that boy.
'Messiou Pablos is out riding Amigo,' said Am Mohammed. 'Ah, so he has brought Amigo to the club?'
'Yes. He has won two races in a row and the Messiou is giving him a rest.'
Amigo was Pavlo's prize horse. It was his winning lottery because he bought him early on before he had gained experience in horses. He turned out to be an extraordinary racehorse winning innumerable races and making quite a packet for Pavlos. I had the pleasure of riding him a few times and was astounded by his energy. A truly beautiful animal, too. White, with perfect proportions and a spirited but good- natured disposition. Much superior to my Bedouin. In a class of his own. Like my Lizzie, you could not take your eyes easily away from him. Bedouin was beautiful too. Brownish white and well proportioned but somewhat smaller and more delicate than Amigo. We entered the stables and went to his box causing a commotion in the rows of boxes where the horses peered out of their windows curious to see who was coming to break their monotony. Bedouin was munching his food and feigned indifference but then could not keep up the pretense and turned around to greet us. Did he recognize me? Well, not in any obvious sense. However, he did let me pet him and when I breathed in his nostril he was interested and alert. I often communicated with him in this way. His breath, always sweet smelling. Enjoy your life Bedouin while the going is good. Eat your barley, your oats and your carrots. Unfortunately, I cannot guarantee that you will not end up like Antar.
'He is beautiful,' said Lizzie. 'We did not think to bring some sugar for him.'
As we were about to leave, Pavlos arrived with Amigo. When he saw us, he galloped the short distance separating us, jumped off his horse and let Said take him away to pace him to allow him to cool down gradually.
Pavlos was slightly shorter than I was, with black, thick hair, a handsome face and a pair of Chinese eyes. Well, not exactly. Halfway Chinese. He was not stout but has a slightly prominent stomach, probably due to the inordinate consumption of alcohol. He walked towards us with a smile, with his springy step and swinging arms, with the confidence of wealth. He spoke to me in Greek. His English was labored but serviceable.
'Where have you been? I did expect a phone call. But seeing the dame, I sympathize.'
'Lisa, meet Pavlos, my friend and owner of the apartment we are using.' Lizzie smiled and Pavlos could barely take his eyes off her.
'Hi Pavlos. It was very nice of you to let us use your flat.'
'Oh, don't mention it. Michael is like my brother. We don't meet very many times but he is the best person of all my friends.'
'Yes? Well, he also talked to me about you.'
'I am sure, not very good things.'
'Quite the contrary.'
'Are you okay with Karima?'
'Oh yes, she is very sweet with us.'
'She told me you are very beautiful but I did not think so much.'
'Thank you.'
'Michael, I want to invite you for lunch or dinner. Please choose what day and telephone me.'
'Thank you Pavlos, I shall. Thank you also for the flat and for taking care of the horses.'
'You have doing this for years.'
'Lizzie will be leaving in a few days and I shall be back on duty.'
'Don't worry about it. But give me an Allo before Lisa leaves.'
'Right. Amigo looks fine. Look at him prancing. Doesn't he ever tire? He is almost as beautiful as Lizzie.'
Lizzie laughed and said, 'Yes, yes. More so.'
'No, please, there is no…, uh, how you say it?'
'No comparison?'
'Yes, no comparison.'
'Well, Pavlos, we must be going. We have things to do. We'll be in touch.'
'Don't let her fly out of your hands,' he told me in Greek. 'She is a doll. You
never talked to me about her.'
'I shall tell you, one day. Good bye, Pavlos, and thanks again.'
'Good bye Lisa, I am very pleased to meet you. I hope I see you again.'
'Good bye Pavlos. I was very happy to meet you too. Please take care of
Michael now that I shall leave. He tells me you have jolly times together. Plenty of laughs.'
'I promise I take care of him. I am sure he will be sad so I make him laugh a lot.'
'Thank you, I shall be grateful for that.' She went up to him, kissed him and then shook hands with Am Mohammed and waved to Said who was some way off, pacing the exuberant Amigo.
We went to our car and drove off towards Giza. 'What did you think of him?' I asked Lizzie.
'He was sweet. And he is polite and obviously generous but he's not my type.'
'No? Why not?'
'I don't know, it didn't click.'
'It seems to me, it definitely clicked with him though.'
'Oh, that's easy. It doesn't take much. His clicks are easy come, easy go.'
'Tell me, did you like Amigo?'
'Oh, a heavenly animal! But Bedouin is sweet too.'
'Pavlos wants to race Bedouin. He believes he might do something worthwhile. In any case I shall have to let him go, if I come to the States.'
'When you come to the States.'
'Yes my love. Oh, yes! Oh God, will I ever?'
We drove along Gabalaya Street, on the bank of the other, narrower branch of the river that made an island of Gezira and across the Galaa Bridge to Giza. Just before reaching the Pyramids, we turned left towards the south along Marioutieh, a feeder canal of the Nile and traveled in the typical Egyptian countryside. Flat green fields, sleepy villages, date palm trees, buffaloes blindfolded going round and round, turning a wheel to raise the water from the canal to the fields and others munching their regurgitated food slowly at a measured pace, serenely lying on the ground. A tiny donkey here and there carrying a well-to-do villager to his appointment. A woman enveloped in a black milaya, walking, balancing all sorts of goods on her head, her arms free to swing by her sides, comical if she were short and fat, coquettish and sexy if she were lithe and tall. With chickens in the yards and ducks in the canal and mangy dogs and scruffy children in the sunshine under blue skies. A life with little luxury but also little worry. Where time was abundant and one had not to rush to fit this, that and the other in twenty-four insufficient hours. Where the community looked after itself, where the blind son would get a wife and the ugly daughter a husband. Where weddings and funerals were community affairs and the whole village rejoiced or mourned and participated in the preparation of food and hospitality. Oh, it really is so difficult to know what is best. We crave the simple life but we obviously cannot live it. It would suffocate us. We have been educated, spoilt and corrupted and we can only live in a maelstrom we hate but cannot give up.
'Lizzie, do you like the scenery?'
'It is very picturesque. Green and flat, primitive and peaceful.'
'Whenever we visited a new place with Corina, I made it a point to tell her a few things about it. Needless to say, she usually knew more about it than I did. Shall I tell you a few things about Saqqarah?'
'Yes, please do my sweet.'
'Saqqarah is a giant cemetery.'
'What was that Greek word you used?'
'In Greek and English and French and Double Dutch they use the term Necropolis. Necros, dead. Polis, city. Thus, City of the Dead.'
'How sad that we shall all end there one day.'
'Actually, the ancient Egyptians thought out a very comforting concept of death.
Well, five thousand years later the vast majority of humanity still subscribes to some sort of afterlife, to the concept of the soul. The Egyptians too from very early times believed that man was composed of body and spirit. They also believed that the spirit could remain alive after physical death if the body were preserved and provided with the necessary sustenance. So the tombs of the well off, the high officials and the nobles were equipped with every imaginable article for the use of the dead which included even chariots and regal accessories.'
'When we were on top of Cheop's pyramid we saw some other pyramids, apart from the ones at Saqqarah.'
'There are some pyramids between Giza and Saqqarah at Abu Sir and also others a few kilometers to the south of Saqqarah at Meidum and Dahshur. These are important because they are the first geometrically true pyramids and they represent an evolution from the first step pyramids. Ancient Egypt had two capitals, which alternated in various points of history. Do you remember their names?'
'I remember one of them, Memphis.'
'How come?'
'It is Elvis Presley's hometown.'
'Gosh, I never imagined when they called Elvis, the King, that he was actually a pharaoh!'
She laughed.
'Neither did I. I never imagined Memphis, Tennessee was in Egypt.'
'Will you stop being frivolous, my darling. To go on with the briefing, the other capital was in Upper Egypt and was called Thebes. It was situated in today's Luxor.'
'Tell me about Memphis. Not Memphis, Tennessee. Memphis, twenty-five hundred BC.'
'Well, not much of it there, now. The few ruins one can see scattered amidst the palms, near a village called Mit Rahine constitute the most ancient capital of the world. We are approaching it now. To the right, up a plateau in the desert is Saqqarah, to the left is Memphis. As you shall see, such a large necropolis must have served a large city. In fact, Memphis extended over a vast area in antiquity but very little of it survives.
Most of the area is still unexplored. It might yet yield important ruins and artifacts. It is interesting that by far the greater part of the treasures of Egyptian antiquities have been obtained from tombs because very few of the houses where people lived and worked have survived.'
We had been traveling for about half an hour since we turned along the Marioutieh canal. Our pace was slow because the road was narrow and apart from the occasional bus and passenger cars, many donkey-drawn carts were on the road and reduced our speed. Eventually we reached the turning that led to Saqqarah and about a kilometer further down we reached the edge of the desert. We stopped at a roadblock to buy tickets for the visit and then up a steep incline to the plateau. As we were ascending, once again, we noted the very abrupt end of cultivated land and the onset of the desert. Up on the plateau the road ended in a huge car park of hard pebbly sand outside the vast enclosure of the step pyramid of the pharaoh Djoser. In the center of the enclosure stood the first pyramid ever built dominating the necropolis. It did not seem massive until you went near it. It is not made of large, well preserved blocks of granite like the pyramid of Cheops but seemed to be constructed of some sort of brick or stone which was crumbling and had layers of sand deposited on it. Still, one could not be too critical. What will the Empire State Building look like after forty-six centuries? The pyramid was built around 2658 BC.
We walked hand in hand inside the enclosure of the step pyramid, which contained other buildings devoted to the cult of the pharaoh including the funerary temple dedicated to his worship and the buildings used for other ceremonies and festivals. Not many people were around. The tourists had come early and as we arrived, we saw several buses leave. Now and then, we were badgered by guides wanting to show us and explain the various tombs. They were all galabeya-clad locals, self- appointed archaeologists with a gift for the gab whose explanations contained more lively imagination than historical fact. We were enjoying the sun, the unpolluted breeze, the unhurried walk, the alternating current that flowed through the contact of our hands.
'Look at it this way, Lizzie. This pyramid is like the top hat of the tomb. The burial chambers are hewn in the rock under it in two levels. The royal chambers are situated at a depth of twenty-eight meters and other chambers for the children and the Queen are at a depth of thirty-three meters.'
'Quite amazing.'
'Does it really interest you, Lizzie?'
'Sure it does. Do I look dumb to you?'
'To me, you look painfully, heart-breakingly beautiful.'
'Well, let's go on.'
'Come this way, then. To the pyramid of Unas. It is one of the smaller pyramids. In the necropolis, there are fifteen other royal pyramids. The pyramid of Unas is the first to have hieroglyphic inscriptions covering the inside walls. A compilation of magic formulas intended to guide the pharaoh through the afterworld. You see, in all matters concerning religion the Egyptians placed considerable reliance on the magic power of the written word.'
We walked slowly from pyramid to pyramid, from mastaba to mastaba, going underground to visit the burial chambers and to see the inscriptions and pictures both painted and carved in relief. I visited Saqqarah a few times previously and never ceased to be fascinated by the artistry of the hieroglyphics and the drawings and colors that have survived eons. There are some extremely sumptuous tombs, in some cases enormous in size and lavishly decorated, with paintings depicting the activity of the deceased in everyday life. We visited the mastaba of Princess Idout, the mastaba of Mehou, of Nefer and Ka-hay. The pyramid of Thiti is just a mound of rubble on the outside, but the interior is well preserved and a sloping gangplank leading to an underground entrance facilitates access.
Every tomb had its galabeya-clad guard-come-guide that stuck to you and recited his particular bit of information. Most of the tombs were locked and opened just for you as a favor, to fatten up the baksheesh. Some of the guards held ancient, mostly rusty shotguns, which would probably explode if you fired them, if you had the ammunition. A few scruffy policemen were also present, supplementing their pitiful wages by saluting the passers-by in military style adorned with a bow, anticipating a little something for their groveling. Peculiar situations where you feel pity and you feel scorn at their lack of self-respect. But then, what would you have done if you had to live on fifteen pounds a month with seven mouths to feed? One had also to cope with the camels and horses that were for hire and their tiresome owners who would not take, No, for an answer. So, up and down, up and down. Down innumerable narrow, low, pitch black corridors, the guide walking in front with a candle followed by Lizzie bent in half and me at the tail end. To emerge and straighten up in a funerary chamber with the massive sarcophagi and their enormous granite lids, to wonder how they had managed to place them there.
We walked the beaten track to the Serapeum. A wide passageway leading to the underground entrance of spacious galleries going left and right. The Serapeum is the famous necropolis of the sacred bulls of Apis. The cult of the bull of Apis was linked to the concept of virility and fertility from predynastic times. The immense underground edifice, hewn out in the solid rock, contained twenty-four huge sarcophagi of the sacred bulls the heaviest of which weighs some seventy tons. From there we visited the mastaba of Ti, which is the largest and possibly the most beautiful of the necropolis. Its bas-reliefs are the best specimens of the Old Kingdom.
With Ti, our visit to Saqqarah ended. We spent about three hours there and the Sun God Ra was about to take his daily plunge underground to regenerate himself for the morrow. I wanted to show Lizzie the great statue of Ramses II housed in Memphis and we barely had the time. So it was as fast a drive to Memphis as we could manage. When we reached the building that housed the reclining Ramses, we found the museum closed. However, some things are simple in Egypt. A young boy, seeing us standing outside the car looking disappointed asked us if we wanted the caretaker. When I answered that we did, he went off at a sprint.
A few minutes later the caretaker arrived out of breath and bid us good evening. He said, 'Welcome', to Lizzie with a smile and went directly to unlock the door of the museum. The fantastic, colossal statue of Ramses II lay on its back taking up the whole length of the cavernous building. He measured over twenty meters in length and was sculpted from a single block of limestone. Oh, that human ego! Thinking he was a God! Now lying shrunken and skeletal in his coffin in the Cairo Museum. We went up a staircase to a balcony to get a good look at the statue from above and stood staring at Ramses II in the formal, heroic stance of pharaonic statuary.
'God, at every step in Egypt something to amaze me.'
'Do you remember, Lizzie, a few months ago when you were passing through for Arabia we saw his mummy in the museum?'
'Yes and now, this!'
'Don't forget, he died when he was over ninety. Almost a mummy before his death. What a stupendous life he must have led. A living God for the seventy-seven years he reigned. Look at his expression. Regal and composed with a Mona Lisa hint of a smile that now you see it, now you don't.'
We descended from the balcony and moved to the door. There, we thanked the caretaker and gave him a tip, which he had the grace to refuse at first but finally accepted thanking us profusely. The boy also adamantly refused a tip. I asked Lizzie to give it to him and told him gruffly, 'Take it, boy, don't snub the lady.' He finally took it plus a smile and a pat on his back from Lizzie.
It was getting dark and we were feeling hungry and not a little tired and sleepy. What a lovely day it had been. Open air and sunshine, a beautiful Egyptian winter's day. Lizzie had seen so many new things and I had once again perused the ancient arts that interested me deeply for they were associated with ancient beliefs and ancient delusions. The elemental search for the meaning of life and the refusal to accept death as a full stop. Building pyramids and sumptuous tombs to sidetrack it. A vast, underground, lifeless city that inevitably failed its original purpose but provided us with information and a measure of understanding of our very distant ancestors.
It was dark when we reached the Swiss Restaurant on the bank of the Nile in Giza.
'Remember this place?'
'Yes. I came here with Abdou the night we arrived in Cairo. Why do we have to visit the past?'
'It doesn't matter anymore. It is of no importance.'
We entered and some of the waiters recognized me and greeted me. The restaurant was half-empty. Lunch was over and it was too early for the dinner crowd. Mainly a restaurant, it was however also a cafeteria and one always found people spending time there for a coffee or some pastry or an elaborate ice cream. I guided Lizzie to the table where I sat with Jack the night I spotted her. The pleasant young waiter who always had some funny comment to make to Jack came to take our order.
'What will you have?' he asked. 'I have some excellent French wine. It is a little expensive but they tell me it is worth it.'
'How did you get it? Imports of this sort are prohibited.'
'From a foreign embassy. Some of their diplomats supplement their income with a little trafficking. They have their embassy import quotas for alcoholic drinks and make good use of them.'
'Yes bring us some wine and keep a second bottle on hand.'
'I shall bring you Beaujolais. Not a run-of-the-mill affair.'
'Lizzie what will you have, my love?'
'The steak au poivre.'
'Oh boy. You shall really massacre me, tonight.'
'What was that Greek saying? Drag me despite my laments?'
I laughed.
'I had better stop teaching you Greek sayings if you are going to use them on me.'
I ordered two steaks au poivre and a few hors d'oeuvres so we could start on the wine. The waiter arrived with the wine and hors d’oeuvres. He opened the wine and poured a mouthful for me to taste.
I nodded and he poured some for Lizzie, then for me. 'I was sitting as I am. Jack was sitting in your place.'
'When?'
'Then. That time.'
'Oh.'
'When you were leaving, you passed right next to me. Was that not fate? The dream of my life, passing by, passing me by literally and metaphorically. When I saw you, I nearly fainted. My heart nearly stopped.'
'I love you. Forget about it.'
'With Abdullah you were glamorous. With me you will rarely be glamorous again.'
'It is good I have also tasted that and know what it entails.'
'It entails private airplanes, presidential hotel suites, thousand dollar dresses and high-priced jewelry.'
'And something gnawing your insides because you did not really love your husband. Because you were in love with his wealth and tolerated him because he loved you and spoiled you with costly gifts. And when that changed, when you realized the money was not yours, was never going to be yours, when his love became overbearing and curtailed your freedom and held you in bondage, suddenly it dawned on you what a colossal stupidity you had done, what a prostitution of oneself. Michael, I love