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Ancient Egypt Magazine Issue Two - July / August 2000
Travellers Tales - A Dream of Egypt Rainy Saturdays spent in fascinated wanderings in the Egyptian Galleries at the British Museum, and tales of Moses and Pharaoh, could not prepare Patricia Gilbert for her mesmerising first encounter with Egypt. “A fairy tale” is how she describes it – and she couldn’t wait to go back! Childhood
memories of rainy Saturdays in the crammed but exciting Egyptian galleries at
the British Museum; Sunday School with its tales of Pharaoh, Moses and deserts;
is this where the fascination began? When in later years, I passed through the
Suez Canal, the desert called to me. Trapped on a passenger ship, I was unable
to answer. Now
at last, as we approached touch down at Cairo at one o’ clock in the morning,
the Egyptian passengers began cheering and clapping. Were they so surprised to
have survived the flight? We were there at last, greeted by a host of grinning
faces in what looked like colourful dressing gowns, noise and mayhem. When our
guide appeared, he was called Aladdin –
a confirmation that we were entering a fairy tale. Leaving
the airport the excitement and wonder increased. We drove on a major highway
with chaotic traffic, noise, and bright lights, and there, in front, was a camel
train trotting along almost in the middle lane! The camels were unperturbed by
the cars weaving and speeding all around. This was all apparently normal. One
wondered what the effect of even one horse on the M4 to London from Heathrow
would be! We
fast approached the city and thought it would be sleeping. Wrong! Half the
population seemed to be about, sitting, eating, children playing, traffic horns
blaring. We passed the Nile and drove on to Giza. The long flight and attack on
our senses meant the marbled halls of the hotel hardly registered. Up
(after what seems minutes) at 5 am for a trip to the Pyramids. Wash, sun hat,
shorts and cream and out into the daylight and WOW! There in front of us are the
Pyramids – we’d been so close for all of three hours and hadn’t realised.
We went up onto the plateau. A shudder starts in the brain and reaches your toes
as you stare in wonder. You want to shout and tell everyone, “I’ve seen the
Pyramids!” The locals probably don’t notice them. Do we give Tower Bridge a
second glance? The
Pyramids on television and in magazines and film are powerful images, but these
convey nothing of the incredible feeling of wonder, the sheer size, smell and
sight of the reality. You simply have
to have been there and stood in awe and felt the sweat and toil of the builders
still hanging in the air. To touch the stones manipulated here so long ago with
such precision is to realise what an apology for craftsmanship one’s home in
England is in comparison. A
look at the Sphinx to study it for discussion later in the hotel as to the
secrets it holds; a quick trot on a camel, smelly and dirty, but with a gorgeous
face and eyelashes to die for. With a tolerant sneer over its shoulder it
galloped round the preset course (a graveyard!) anxious only to get back to its
shade. A
visit to the Cairo Museum is next on the list. Is it possible for so much to be
in one place? After the overwhelming gold of the boy king the simplicity of the
stone statues downstairs soothe and calm one’s senses. A quick drive to
Saqqara follows, passing through the countryside and back in time: the donkeys,
bullocks, and the beds outside the houses are the same as in Tutankhamun’s
time but there’s no gold. It was impossible to believe Cairo and its mad
mayhem was so few miles away. Leaving
Cairo was hard, but Luxor lay ahead (if the plane ever left the ground!). The
tension of the excitement of knowing shortly we would gaze across the Nile to
the West Bank was almost unbearable. In comparison with Cairo it seemed a sleepy
place and the Sheraton Hotel pool called to us like the Lorelei. I
wished we’d crossed the river next day by ferry. Instead, a minibus and tarmac
road took us past the Colossi and into the Valley of the Kings. It was hot of
course, being July, but at least not crowded. We gazed in wonder at the colours.
The thief of time was ruling our visits. I had longed to enter these tombs and
now I gasped in awe and knew I was privileged. Am I the only one who now
wrestles with my conscience for invading a private place and disturbing those
who built and occupied these tombs? I couldn’t have missed it and when I visit
again soon I’ll go in all the tombs I can, but I know I will feel guilty that
those mighty people do not slumber on for eternity as intended. I’ve
stared at the faces of the Pharaohs in the Mummy room at Cairo. I would have
loved to talk to them but speaking is frowned upon Perhaps they could free my
conscience. Their faces are familiar; perhaps they were ferocious characters but
they seemed kindly and at peace, Oh Seti, if only you could speak to me! Perhaps
in a way those ancient people can speak. Standing in the twilight in Karnak
temple, squeezing ones eyes and listening intently, it seems that the ancients
still glide past in soft strains of music and the clashing of cymbals. Surely,
as we glided the Nile at sunset by felucca, you could hear the oars and sails of
the ancient vessels … or was I dreaming? Those
Egyptians clapping and cheering as we landed weren’t surprised to have
arrived, they were overjoyed to be back in this amazing land. Soon I’ll be
joining in the clapping for the privilege of being back and welcomed so openly
by such friendly people. One visit, two visits: it’s not enough. If I went
every year for the rest of my life I still wouldn’t see or learn enough, and
that’s its fascination. A
fantastic, wonderful, chaotic place – thank you Egypt. Tutankhamun Exhibition Remembered The feature on the British
Museum in this issue of AE magazine, with its John's interest in Egyptology dates back to his childhood and memories of his grandfather, who, from humble beginnings as a labourer in a textile mill in Bradford rose to ownership of several textile enterprises. "The family story is that my grandfather became a cloth salesman and in 1914 received the first order for 1,000,000 yards of khaki cloth from the War Office. The company could not afford to pay his commission in time and instead made him a partner," he explained. John's adventurous ancestor travelled through Russia and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, taking no currency other than gold sovereigns with him. His interest in Egyptology took him to Egypt where he collected, as was the fashion of the time, some curiosities and antiquities. His grandson recalls reading the three volumes of Carter's Discovery of the Tomb of Tutankhamun while still extremely small. "My grandparents had talked about an Egyptian king (somehow I got it into my mind that he was called Mr Carter), and tombs, and gold, but my grandmother 'didn't care for that sort of thing'." As a child, John read and reread Carter's work. "Sometimes in bed my hands got blue with cold - in wartime we had little heating! One day my father asked if I was enjoying them, and when I said yes, told me that my grandfather had brought 'some very funny things from Egypt and that they were somewhere in a box'." Coming from a family of collectors ("everything from tapestries to Georgian teapots to countless electric trains!") he thought little of them for many years.
His business interests over the years have left him little time to investigate Grandpa's legacy until recently, but now some of the items are being researched by experts at the National Museums of Scotland, Edinburgh.
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In
the early 70s, as MD of a flourishing textile business, John was able to
organise a very special preview of the Tutankhamun Exhibition for one of his
customers, with replicas of gold jewellery from the tomb and an Egyptian-themed
collection of fabrics. He recalls travelling to the British Museum in a fleet of
taxis and London buses.
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