Black Genesis (5 page)

THE DESERT PRINCE AND THE ENGLISH PATIENT

Another Egyptian of similar impeccable breeding immediately followed in the footsteps of Hassanein. This was the heir to the throne of Egypt, Prince Kemal El Din Ibn Hussein. Prince Kemal, who had received his education in Austria, refused the throne in order to pursue a career as a desert explorer and cartographer. Inspired by the recent exploits of Hassanein, Prince Kemal set about organizing and financing his own expeditions into the Egyptian Sahara—but this time not by camel caravan, as Hassanein had done, but with automobiles for off-road travel that were specially designed for him by Citroen and Ford. With these vehicles, Prince Kemal set out in 1926 from Cairo to Dakhla, and from there into the deep desert southwest toward Jebel Uwainat. Some 400 kilometers (249 miles) beyond Dakhla (and still 200 kilometes—124 miles—from Jebel Uwainat), Prince Kemal discovered an immense mountain range, which he christened Gilf Kebir. Amazingly, back in 1923 Hassanein had missed seeing it because he had traveled south from Kufra to Jebel Uwainat and was thus 100 kilometers west of Gilf Kebir.

The mountain range of Gilf Kebir is 300 kilometers (186 miles) long and some 80 kilometers wide. It is almost the size of Switzerland and, when approached from the west, seems to jut out of the flat desert like a monstrous tsunami in stone. Prince Kemal had much better scientific equipment at his disposal than Hassanein, and he was able to fix firmly all these new locations, including the peaks of Jebel Uwainat, on the ordinance map of Egypt. He missed seeing, however, the extensive prehistoric rock art that is found on the west side of Gilf Kebir. This was discovered later by another explorer whom Prince Kemal would actually sponsor: none other than the enigmatic and colorful Count Lazlo Almasy, a Hungarian aristocrat who, among many other things, is said to have been a secret agent for the Germans in World War II.

Almasy planned an expedition to Gilf Kebir with fellow travelers and sponsors Baron Robert Clayton and Robert's pretty wife, Lady Clayton. The three were immortalized in the 1996 movie
The English Patient.
The trio proposed to get to Gilf Kebir by air with a single-engine Gipsy Moth airplane owned by the Claytons. Accompanying them were Patrick Clayton of the desert survey unit (and no relation to Baron Clayton) and wing commander H. S. Penderel, who was to pilot the airplane. Their objective was to search for the fabled lost oasis-city of Zarzora, a sort of Shangri-La of the desert, which Almasy believed was tucked away somewhere in the newly discovered Gilf Kebir. With their fantastic stories of an oasis lost to the world, Bedouins had long fantasized about the legend of Zarzora. They described it as having wonderful springs and being surrounded by a white wall that hid magnificent castles and gardens. They believed it was southwest of Dakhla, the farthest inhabited oasis in Egypt.

Figure 2.3. Early Egyptian desert explorers, clockwise from left: Ahmed Hassanein in 1922, Ralph Bagnold (see chapter 4) with desert vehicle in 1930, Prince Kemal el Din with tract vehicle in 1926, and Count Lazlo Almasy ca. 1930.

At Gilf Kebir, Almasy and his friends discovered the now-famous Caves of Swimmers at the mouth of a valley on the west side of Gilf Kebir. These two caves—more like deep ledges—contained a plethora of rock art that was actually drawn on the sandstone with vivid colors rather than carved. It depicted Black men, women, and children in social activities, some clearly enjoying swimming and diving in a river or lake. (See chapter 5 for more description when we recount our own expedition to Gilf Kebir.) Meanwhile, flying west from Gilf Kebir with the Gipsy Moth, Almasy and his colleagues spotted a group of lush valleys with unusual amounts of trees and vegetation, which they thought was the fabled oasis of Zarzora. Later, however, in 1932, when Almasy re-explored the region on the ground, he found no springs or white walls—not even the slightest signs of human habitation, let alone stone castles. Instead, he found typical wadis with the usual rugged acacia trees and a few shrubs here and there. In fact, there were three wadis (valleys) called Abdel Malik, Hamra, and Talh, which were already known to the ancient Tebu people of the region and which, at least according to Almasy's account, the Tebu also called Zarzora.

Yet, like the fabled lost oasis of Shangri-La or the mythical Atlantis, the legend of Zarzora still persists to this day, and, as we will see, it still lures eccentric explorers in search of adventure and glory. There is a strange irony about all these modern explorations and their claims of discovering of this or that lost oases, however: none of these places were lost at all. Instead, they were known to the ancients and were only rediscovered in modern times. Hassanein and Prince Kemal were definitely not the first Egyptians to reach Jebel Uwainat and Gilf Kebir, for the ancient Egyptians had in fact already beaten them to it by several thousands years.

THE EXPEDITIONS OF HARKHUF

About forty-two hundred years ago, on the very beautiful island of Elephantine near Aswan, a man of high rank named Iry and his eldest son Harkhuf were preparing for the most daring desert expedition ever to be attempted in antiquity or, indeed, even in modern times. On the command of the ruling pharaoh, they were about to leave their tranquil and lush island on the Nile and set out westward into the open and uncharted desert. In those days, this adventure would have been the equivalent of a first manned NASA mission to Mars. Indeed, the faraway region that they would eventually reach is so similar to the Martian landscape that the Egyptian scientist at NASA, Dr. Farouk El Baz, actually uses it as a model to study the geology of the Red
Planet.
¹¹

Iry had been chief lector priest to the pharaoh Pepi I, and after the king's untimely death, Iry retained the same post under the new pharaoh, Merenre I (sixth dynasty, 2323–2150 BCE). Upon their return, and after Iry passed away, his son Harkhuf succeeded him as chief lector to Merenre I and also to this pharaoh's successor, the boy-king Pepi

II. Harkhuf was also appointed governor of Aswan and Elephantine. It was under the orders of King Merenre I and then later King Pepi II that Harkhuf and his father, Iry, mounted several expeditions into the deep desert to “explore the way to the land of
Yam.”
¹²

But where was Yam, and why was it so important for the pharaohs to send their most trusted advisors on such a dangerous mission . . . one from which they might never have returned? The location of the land or kingdom of Yam has long confounded Egyptologists. Some have believed it to be located south of Aswan, between the first and second cataracts of the Nile; others have thought that it was in the west, in the region of the inhabited oases such as Kharga or
Dakhla.
¹³
These relatively accessible locations were proposed by Egyptologists because, until recently, scholars were convinced that the ancient Egyptians could not travel into the deep desert but could journey only southward along the Nile Valley or westward, but no farther than the habitable oases. Beyond these oases lies a seemingly endless and lifeless desert, a vast expanse of pure nothingness of sand, dust, and rocks, and so Egyptologists insisted that no one in their right mind would attempt to venture there without being sure they could return safely. The practical problem is that the maximum distance that anyone can travel into this waterless desert on foot (or by donkey, as Harkhuf did) is about 200 kilometers (about 124 miles), unless there are some water sources along the way. Any farther would mean a certain gruesome death by dehydration. Gilf Kebir and Jebel Uwainat, however, are a staggering 650 kilometers (400 miles) west of the Nile, and the journey to these places is theoretically impossible without a means to replenish the caravan with water and food.

In addition, it seems that another issue—one of a spiritual nature—troubled the ancient Egyptians: they apparently regarded the Sahara as the place of death and a place where evil spirits lived. Thus, according to the Egyptologists, they would certainly have refrained from venturing too far into it.

Finally, and more to the point, there was not a single shred of evidence that could attest to the presence of ancient Egyptians beyond the oases. Although on the one hand there is much evidence of their presence in all five major oases of the Egyptian Sahara—Kharga, Dakhla, Siwa, Bahareya, and Farafra—in the form of temples, tombs, and an abundance of artifacts, there was for a long time absolutely no trace of them beyond the vicinity of these oases. Because of this lack of evidence, then, and also because of the forbidding geographical conditions, Egyptologists concluded that no one in ancient times had traveled into the deep desert. Indeed, it was not until relatively recent times—in 1879, to be more precise—that the likes of explorers such as Gerhard Rohls, and later, in 1920, Hassanein and Rosita Forbes, attempted such deep-desert journeys. The Egyptologists concluded that even if Yam was in the Egyptian Sahara, it must have been one of the habitable oases, either Kharga or Dakhla. As far as they were concerned, Gilf Kebir and Jebel Uwainat, let alone anywhere beyond these, were simply too far and out of reach for Harkhuf.

Nevertheless, some open-minded Egyptologists admitted that Yam's “location remains uncertain. . . . [O]nly new archaeological discoveries inscribed or otherwise, could resolve the
issue.”
¹⁴
This last statement—that ancient inscriptions could resolve the issue—was uncanny, for, as we will soon see, that is precisely what did happen in late 2007: ancient inscriptions were found that finally helped locate the lost kingdom of Yam. Before we go into this, however, let us re-examine the writings of Harkhuf (they are inscribed on the walls of his tomb at Aswan) and see for ourselves what can be derived from them. Here is the full text translated by French Egyptologist Claire Lalouette:

His Majesty Merenre, my master, sent me, together with my father, Sole Companion and Lector-Priest, Iry, to the land of Yam to explore its ways. I carried out this mission in seven months, I brought back all sorts of tributes, beautiful and rare and I was praised for it very highly.

His Majesty sent me a second time, alone. I went by way of the Elephantine road and returned via the land of Irtet, Makher and Teres of Irtet at the end of a voyage of eight months. I returned carrying tributes of this land in very great numbers, of a kind, which nobody had ever brought to Egypt before. I returned, coming from the camp of the chief of Setu and Irtet after having explored this land. You will find no other Sole Companion, Chief of interpreters who has reached [so far] into the land of Yam before.

His Majesty sent me for a third time to the land of Yam. I went there from the Nome of Thinis by the oasis road and I observed that the chief of the land of Yam had left for the land of the Timhiu to chastise them, as far as the western corner of the sky. I followed his trail to the land of the Timhiu and I pacified him until he adored all the gods for the sake of the royal Sovereign. [I shall make haste . . . with a man from the land of Yam] . . . so that His Majesty Merenre, my royal Lord, shall know [that I went to the land of Timhiu] following the chief of the land of Yam. After having given satisfaction to this celebrated chief . . . I returned with three hundred donkeys burdened with incense, ebony, hekenu perfume, grain, panther skins, elephant tusks, many boomerangs, and all kinds of beautiful and good presents. When the chief of Irtet-Setu-Wa-Wat saw how strong and numerous were the troops of the land of Yam returning with me towards the residence [marching] in the company of the army which had been sent with me, he handed over, to be given to me, bulls and goats and guided me through the ways of the hills of Irtet—because of the skill and the vigilance which I had shown, more than any other Companion, Chief of interpreters, former envoy to the land of Yam. Then, this servant followed the course of the river as far as the Residence; and it was arranged that the prince, Sole Companion, Steward of the two halls of libation [?] came to meet me with ships loaded with date wine, cakes, bread and beer.

T
HE PRINCE, TREASURER TO THE KING OF
L
OWER
E
GYPT
, S
OLE
C
OMPANION
, L
ECTOR
-P
RIEST, TREASURER OF THE
G
OD, SECRET COUNSELOR FOR THE DECREES, THE
I
MAKU
, H
ARKHUF
¹⁵

In this inscription, Harkhuf claims that he “carried out this mission in seven months,” and another in eight months. The Egyptologist James H. Breasted translated Harkhuf 's statement thus: “I did it in only seven months!” Clearly this shows that Harkhuf was proud of his accomplishment of the time it took him to go to Yam and return, otherwise he would not have boasted
about it.
¹⁶
We know too that Harkhuf used donkeys for these journeys (the camel was not known in Egypt until much later). Any experienced desert traveler knows that a donkey laden with a typical load of 60 kilograms (about 130 pounds) can travel only 15 kilometers (about 9 miles) a day average (allowing for rest breaks) and even fewer kilometers if the terrain is rough and craggy.

In the ancient Egyptian calendar, seven months amounted to 210 days. Therefore, we can estimate the distance of Hakhuf's travel to Yam and back as 3,150 kilometers (1,957 miles). Yet the distance from the Nile Valley to Kharga and back is only 400 kilometers (249 miles); and to Dakhla and back, the distance is 540 kilometers (336 miles) and would take only thirty-six days at the most. If either Kharga or Dakhla were Harkhuf's destination, as some Egyptologists have claimed, then surely Harkhuf would not have boasted to the pharaoh that he “did it in only seven months.” The conclusion must be that Yam is much farther than either Kharga or Dakhla. Our estimate shows that it must have been at least some 1,500 kilometers (about 932 miles) from the Nile Valley at Aswan, most certainly in a southwestward direction. Most Egyptologists, however, have insisted that Harkhuf traveled south, albeit probably first going west to the Kharga oasis, but then turning south along the Darb El Arbaeen (the so-called Forty-Days Trail) parallel to the Nile to reach a place between the second and third cataracts in the Sudan, where, some say, Yam could also have been
located.
¹⁷
Other than the fact that the distance to this location and back would be only 1,000 kilometers (about 621 miles), and thus 2,150 kilometers (1,336 miles) short of our estimate, we must also wonder why Harkhuf chose to travel in the desert parallel to the Nile to reach the second cataract when he could have much more easily sailed by boat on the Nile itself. To explain this, Egyptologists have speculated that perhaps the region on the Nile south of Aswan was in the hands of hostile tribes, and Harkhuf may have wanted to bypass them by traveling inland in the desert. In his inscriptions, however, Harkhuf makes it clear that Yam was somewhere very far. He started in Upper Egypt and traveled along the “oases road” and then westward “to the western corner of the sky”—and not, as Egyptologists claim, south toward the Sudan: “I went there from the Nome of Thinis [Upper Egypt] by the oasis road and I observed that the chief of the land of Yam had left for the land of the Timhiu to chastise them, as far as the western corner of the sky. I followed his trail to the land of the Timhiu.” The Timhiu or Temehou are often said by Egyptologists to be the ancient dwellers of the Sahara in southern Libya. This belief prompted the American Egyptologist Hans Geodicke of Johns Hopkins University to ask, “Where did the chief of Yam go in ‘the land of the Libyans' ‘to beat the Libyans'”? The intention attributed to the chief of Yam “to beat the Libyans to the Western corner of heaven” makes it clear that the chief of Yam had gone in a westerly
direction.
¹⁸

Yet Hans Goedicke, like all Egyptologists before him, held firm that the ancient Egyptians could not travel into the deep desert beyond the oasis of Dakhla. He therefore concluded that Kharga was the land of Yam and that Dakhla was the land of the Timhiu (Libyans). But this is clearly incorrect, for we have already seen that if this was the case, Harkhuf 's boast that it took only seven months to go to Yam and return does not make sense. Yet going farther due west does not make much sense either, because this direction would have taken Harkhuf directly into the Great Sand Sea, a formidable barrage of high dunes that even today cannot be crossed without specially equipped four-wheel-drive vehicles.

So which direction did Harkhuf take? The phrase “western corner of the sky” gives us a clue. The ancient Egyptians saw the sky as being held up by four pillars at each corner. In addition, at the time of Harkhuf, they defined the horizon as having two parts: east and west. The “western corner of the sky,” therefore, implies the southwest corner—and it leads toward Gilf Kebir and, beyond it, to the Tibesti highlands in Chad. As we have seen, however, such a journey is not possible without adequate sources of water along the way, and no such water sources, either on the way or at Gilf Kebir itself, existed. The first available water is 200 kilometers south of Gilf Kebir, at Jebel Uwainat. Interestingly, though, in a 1965 article by G. W. Murray, the director of the topographical survey of Egypt, Murray explains that he examined the inscriptions of Harkhuf, and he suggests: “The Land of Temeh [Timhiu/Libyans] was an Egyptian expression for the inhabited parts of the southern Libyan desert. They were widely scattered . . . [I]n the far south-west, the sandstone massif of the Gilf Kebir made up, to borrow a phrase from the Chief of Yam, ‘the western corners of
heaven. . . .'”
¹⁹

Bearing this in mind, we can note another intriguing term found in the letter written to Harkhuf by the young King Pepi II. In this letter, Pepi II refers to Yam as
ta-akhet-iu,
which Egyptologists translate as “land of the horizon dwellers.” In hieroglyphs it is written thus: