Protecting the Nile

Egypt has relied on the Nile since the dawn of civilization. For over 5000 years, the Nile has pushed nutrient-rich silt through its 6600-km waterway from the wellsprings of Lake Tana in Ethiopia (Blue Nile) and Lake Victoria in Uganda (White Nile), on its way through Cairo, where it eventually runs across the delta and drains into the Mediterranean.

Just as the Nile shaped the landscape, it also shaped a society that believed in the Nile’s magical properties. Ancient Egyptians believed that gods controlled the Nile. They venerated Sobek, the crocodile god who created the Nile,

and prayed to Khnum–lord of the water–who fertilized the river banks, thus enabling Hapi, the goddess of ‘Annual Flooding’ to enrich and irrigate Egyptian crops.

Pharaohs used the Nile as a transit zone for long-hauling building supplies between coastal cities, and establishing monuments to the gods and themselves along the way, like the temple of Kalabsha in Nubia.

Even Aga Khan thought the bank of the Nile was a good idea for a Fatimid mausoleum.

Yet the river that once placed Egypt at the center of the civilized world for 3 millennia is now on life support, and poses a serious threat to the welfare of Egypt’s agriculture, aquaculture, and transportation sectors.

Unfortunately, the matter has been complicated by issues that stem from Egypt’s internal struggles, while the nation also battles other problems originating from south of the border.

For one, Egypt’s population already exceeds 110M, and is projected to swell to 121M in 2030, 160M in 2050, and 225M in 2100.

Egypt’s alarming growth rate over the past millennium has placed the country in economic jeopardy for the foreseeable future. Presently, nearly one-third of the country lives in poverty.

Additionally, with 97% of a dependent population living along the banks of the Nile and its delta, the existential threat to the river Nile has heightened significantly.

Intervention by Egypt over time has resulted in benefits and new challenges…

By partnering with the Soviets between 1960 and 1970,

Soviet-Egypt Friendship Monument

Egypt constructed the Aswan High Dam–an immense embankment dam–upriver from the original Aswan Dam completed by the British in 1902.

It’s purpose: to control flooding;

provide increased water storage for irrigation;

generate hydropower;

and encourage tourism–all seen as pivotal to Egypt’s industrialization.

Yet, there have been unintended environmental consequences to damming the Nile:

  • The dam restricts passage of rich volcanic sediment that once swept along the entire riverbed, but now struggles to reach the Mediterranean.
  • The Nile Delta has lost a substantial amount of arable land due to the Nile’s inability to provide an unabated flow rate to defeat a rising sea.
  • A 15 cm rise in the Mediterranean’s sea-level over the past century is expected to double over the next 30 years from climate change.
  • To compensate for the salination of the soil, farmers must pump more fresh water from the Nile onto their crops, causing additional pollution from synthetic fertilizer runoff.

According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the U.N.’s group of climate scientists predict the impact on the Nile will be catastrophic. They say it will lose 70% of its flow by the end of the century, with the water supply plummeting to a third of its present capacity.

Good for camels, but not for human survival.

Egyptian officials have also been wrangling over water rights and diplomacy with Ethiopian counterparts, arguing that their water security has been irreparably compromised.

However, more than half of Ethiopia’s 110 million people currently live in the dark. Their leadership is hopeful that the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the Blue Nile (begun in 2011) will help to electrify the country and generate power for export.

Consequently, the Renaissance Reservoir will cause a 25% loss of hydropower generated by the Aswan High Dam, a reduction in Lake Nasser’s water retention, and a reduction to Egypt’s flow rate by as much as 25%.

With anticipated droughts in East Africa, a 2oC rise in temperature across the region, and a population crisis that begets increased poverty, it’s imperative that competing countries begin cooperating with each other to protect their citizens and their mutual interests.

Faces of Upper Egypt

Getting to know the people of Egypt is equally as magical as the ancient architecture and history. Wandering around the Nubian neighborhoods was a great way to observe the locals at work and at play. What follows is a portrait gallery of faces in their familiar places:

This man is paid to remove wrinkles. His cheeks are filled with water, which he sprays across a bolt of cotton fabric. Now he’s ready to run his foot across it with a scorching hot iron.

Finished products are then delivered to the fabric merchants, who specialize in either female or male colors.

The town tailor likely receives an order to design a proper galabeya…

or a pile of pillows and textile merchandise.

For pillows and mattresses that flatten or sag over time, it’s time to visit the wool fluffer, who will beat the filling until it’s been rejuvenated.

Busy mornings are usually followed by a bite to eat.

some shopping…

or a smoke.

It’s safe to say that locals feel more secure, when they’re protected by the guard on patrol,

or washed by the man who prepares your body for burial.

The school bus may not be yellow,

but it gets the kids to school on time…

where they are very receptive to strangers with cameras,

which is more than I can say when the tables are turned.

Dancing the Tanoura

Tonight was cultural arts night aboard the Viking Ra, and all hands were decked out in their finest Egyptianized evening wear, in celebration of our host country.

It provided the perfect opportunity for women to shimmy in their cotton camel PJ pants, embroidered tunics, and spangled belly dance costumes,

while a few men rocked the casbah in their galabeyas (long shirts) and keffiyehs (square-shaped, cotton scarves).

Personally, my taste borders on Tommy Bahama does Margaritaville at REI, with little to no resemblance of anything Middle Eastern-related, so I reimagined a hand towel as a Nemes (royal headdress), and called it a night. Leah chose to ignore the fashion directive.

It was also a time for traditional Egyptian cuisine–served family style–followed by an hour of Sufi-themed music and dance.

With the riverboat tied up in Esna for the night, Viking passengers benefited from a wealth of local talent who came aboard to showcase their cultural arts–steeped in a medieval tradition of Islamic spiritualism that deals with purification of the inner self through a deep devotion and physical experience of God.

As enchanting as it was hypnotic, a member of the troupe performed the tanoura (Arabic for ‘skirt’), a trance dance not unlike the Turkish Whirling Dervishes, but with an Egyptian “spin.” Its origin dates to 13th century Egypt, when whirling in place became a means to reaching karma. The dancer spins anti-clockwise–which symbolizes Muslim pilgrimage around the Kaaba, while also preventing dizziness.

Our dancer wore a multi-layered tanoura of many colors (collectively weighing over 50 lbs.), as he performed his meditative ritual for over 15 minutes, dancing with trays, and scarves. Unbelievable!

Then the ship lights dimmed, and the tanoura turned psychedelic!

It was an enlightening way to spend the evening!

The Valley Girls and Guys of Thebes.

In ancient times, the Nile split the imperial city of Thebes in two parts:

On the east bank, a fertile garden where 80,000 Egyptians lived and worked, called “City of the Living;”

and along the west bank, Egyptian royalty huddled with their architects and priests to select the best nest for rest in “City of the Dead.”

Occasionally, it was a family affair, with namesake mummies networking in the same vicinity–no doubt, making it easier to pay respects on Pharaohs Day.

Unlike Giza, the only thing resembling a pyramid in the Valley of the Kings is Al Qurn, the highest peak in the Theban Hills at 420 meters.

Perhaps this gave the pharaohs some ancestral comfort, knowing their final journey to eternity had topographical similarities.

At last count, international expeditions have excavated 65 crypts concentrated within the Valley of the Kings and Queens, with only 11 tombs available for viewing.

But the most remarkable thing about this vast necropolis is what’s waiting to be discovered. Hardly a day goes by without hearing of a new discovery from the dozens of white “dig” tents that dot Luxor and Giza.

Easily, the most famous discovery came from British archaeologist, Howard Carter,

whose remarkable discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922 created a global sensation.

But seeing is believing.

Viewing the tomb requires a special ticket, and admission is limited.

While the tomb’s treasures have been removed, (see Egyptian Museum Mania),

the mummy and first sarcophagus remain intact.

Equally impressive is the remote Temple of Deir el-Bahri (KV22), anchored to the rockface below Al Qurn.

It was commissioned by Hatshepsut, who broke the aristocratic glass ceiling in 1480 BC by becoming Egypt’s first female pharaoh. Throughout her 22-year reign as king, she cross-dressed as a male, wearing a fake beard, a traditional headdress (nemes) with cobra, and a short kilt like her male predecessors.

While controversial as a female pharaoh, and all but erased by her successors, Hatshepsut’s place in history was secured as the only female interred in the Valley of Kings.

Nearby, the Valley of the Queens is only 2 km away by club cart conveyance,

where the shining star of the valley is Nefertari’s tomb.

Officials require a special admission ticket–that only allows 10 visitors at a time to roam through the chambers for only 10 minutes–upon theorizing that reduced traffic likely reduces environmental impact.

Nefertari was the first of Ramses’ II Great Royal Wives (6 in total). In fact, he was so smitten by Nefertari’s beauty, that he built her the grandest tomb on the block, and shared his glory side-by-side at Abu Simbal.

Photo by Alberto Capparelli on Pexels.com

Besides her good looks, Nefertari earned her place at the palace table as the king’s court communicator. She was a writer, a strategist, and a skilled diplomat in support of her husband.

A long tunnel empties into an antechamber…

followed by a second staircase,

that leads to a burial chamber…

supported by elaborately painted columns,

with finely decorated funerary rooms at the wings,

featuring the sacred bull and seven celestial cows, who collectively represent the Goddess Hathor.

Given today’s global issues of gender identity, glass ceiling theory, propaganda, and branding, it might be wise to take a papyrus out of ancient Egypt’s playbook for the benefit of clarity.

Hathor’s Opus

If temples had beauty pageants, then Dendera’s Temple of Hathor would surely win. Only an hour’s float downriver from Luxor, Dendera Temple shines like a polished gemstone on the Nile for all of Hathor’s devotees.

Regarded as the “Mistress of the Vagina,” Hathor exemplified ancient Egyptian femininity as the goddess of love, beauty, music, dancing, fertility, and pleasure…and its all on display at her temple.

From a distance, it’s an unassuming temple,

obscured by a surrounding wall of mudbrick rubble with a golden glow.

However, it stands wonderfully intact for a structure built 2000 years ago, albeit atop the remains of another sanctuary that predates its commission by 2250 years.

While Temples of Karnak and Luxor were built to worship Amun-Ra–the alpha-male of all New Kingdom deities, who brought sun, light, and daily creation to the world–their energy is very androcentric.

Whereas, the Temple of Dendera exudes a powerful yet feminine charm,

evidenced by the 18 four-sided capitals of Hathor–with her cow-eared likeness–supporting the Hypostyle Hall.

Unfortunately, all carvings of Hathor were deliberately defaced by Christian iconoclasts who sheltered within its walls.

Their open fires lined the chamber surfaces with centuries of soot–obscuring the bas-relief paintings–

until a delegation of French archaeologists recently restored the artwork to its original colors.

Hathor’s temple was most likely commissioned during the second rule of Ptolemy XII in 54 BC until his death in 51 BC, and overseen by his successor daughter, Queen Cleopatra VII and her son King Caesarion until her suicide in 30 BC. They are both enshrined on the temple’s outer rear wall.

Romans embellished the temple compound by constructing the Gate of Domitian and Trajan in lieu of a traditional Egyptian pylon,

but stayed true to the Greco-Egyptian design by invoking Nekhbet (vulture goddess and protector of Upper Egypt and its rulers) beneath the lintel.

and beyond the temple columns.

Emperor Trajan also completed a Roman Kiosk in the forecourt.

There’s a wealth of illustrations and hieroglyphic stories throughout Hathor’s temple…

However, the real beauty can be found in the artistic renderings of astrological symbols painted across the Hypostyle Hall, where Goddess Nut ordains the passage of time in a celestial barge.

The masterpiece of the temple is surely the circular zodiac chart of the ancient sky that’s located on the ceiling at the entrance to the Chapel of Osiris–

accessed via a processional staircase that leads to the temple’s rooftop.

Amid controversy, the original engraving was blasted from the ceiling in 1821, and stolen away to France, where it currently hangs in the Louvre Museum in Paris.

Alas, a replica hangs in the chapel.

Which begs the question: Was it guilt and reparations that brought the French back to Dendera to supervise the restoration?