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Venom Figurine
Venom Figurine
The female pharaoh
The female pharaoh
For many years I wondered and read about Hatshepsut, the female pharaoh. The one who was regent after the death of her husband Thutmose II. She who after two years took the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt away from her stepson/nephew, then yet a child, declared herself to be King and Pharaoh and therefore also a god; who reigned for about twenty years while the young Thutmose was left to seethe and await his turn. Since he was eventually regarded as one of the most outstanding pharaohs in history, known as the Napoleon of Egypt, she must have been a formidable woman indeed.
Chris, my husband, and I travelled to Cairo in search of her traces. Cairo is a buzzing city that has risen around the colossal pyramids of Gizeh like floodwater. My mental image of lonely, mysterious constructions surrounded by limitless wastes of sandy desert faded away as we sat in a restaurant on the first evening drinking G and T’s and watching probes of light illuminate the pyramids, apparently within touching distance.
The next day we clambered some way up the angled side of the largest pyramid, over the enormous building blocks. I found it slightly incongruous that the complex is guarded by policemen perched on camels, each clutching a mobile phone and an AK-47. The pyramids were not built by slaves, our guide told us. Almost all the males in Egypt took part in the building. It was paid labour, but participation was considered an honour. Chris thinks there is no country in Africa today equal to this task, not even our own (South Africa).
In the Cairo museum we found an extraordinary collection of ancient artefacts, not very well displayed. This includes the famed treasure of Tutankhamen. In those rooms there was such a crush that one hardly had time to register what one saw: his child’s chair and his toys; a footstool; lamps, statues, jewellery; a leopard carved in ebony, wooden chests, sandals. Dozens of ushabti – little figurines of officials and slaves who would come alive in the Afterlife to serve the Pharaoh again (seems to me that the Afterlife was more to be desired by the aristocracy than by the working classes). A golden throne, a golden war chariot; his bow and arrows. The famed golden death mask with cobalt blue decorations and the snake goddess, Wadjet, erect and ready to spit venom into the eyes of the king’s enemies. When the young king died at eighteen, where was Wadjet?
I hunted all over the museum for Hatshepsut, and on the ground floor I found an enormous carving of her head in polished rose-coloured granite. Fairly round face. Firm lips. Almond eyes. The false beard of the pharaohs neatly in place beneath her determined chin (probably attached to loops over her ears). Hatshepsut became regent when her husband, Thutmose II, died and his son Thutmose by a concubine was crowned at around age 10, making him Thutmose III. However, after two years of regency, she declared herself king (not queen, please note), had herself crowned and ensured that the child remained a junior co-regent.
Over the years people have speculated about her, and various views have been held as to the kind of person she was. What is the truth about you? I wondered as I stood looking at the huge statue. Were you a witch who robbed a poor innocent child of his rightful throne, the cruel stepmother of a thousand fairy tales? Were you a weak pharaoh who almost ran Egypt into the ground by refusing to go to war? Or were you a wise and balanced ruler who rebuilt the land, damaged as it was by the invading Hyksos who ignored the ancient gods and let the temples fall into ruin?
Is it true that you were a crafty Jezebel who wound stupid men around your irresistible little finger? Or were you an airhead who was placed on the throne by clever men, by one clever man in particular, the inimitable Senenmut? Was he your lover? Or did you realise that such a relationship could cost you your throne? What is the truth about you? Talk to me! But she stared wordlessly ahead as if across the boundless desert to a dark horison.
The following day our boat trip on the Nile began. We joined a small group of South Africans with one guide, name of Mohammed, who addressed everyone as Habibi (Sweetheart). He was a qualified Egyptologist, very enthusiastic about the history of his country; one could ask him anything – he knew his subject extremely well.
I asked him about Hatshepsut. He said that there are a number of facts that we know for sure. She did reign, for about 20 years. She reigned as Pharaoh, that is to say a king, not as queen. We would see relief images of her wearing the costume of a king, which she sometimes donned. Her rule was marked by peace and prosperity and the old temples were rebuilt and the ancient gods restored and honoured. Commercial ties with other countries were expanded and the economy strengthened. And Thutmose III had to wait for his turn to become the sole ruler. She had one daughter by Thutmose II, Neferure, and Senenmut looked after the child, but she died young.
“Do you think Thutmose III killed Hatshepsut, or ordered her death?”
He shrugged. It is a fact, he said, that a large number of statues of Hatshepsut were destroyed after her death and thrown into a quarry, together with shattered images of Senenmut and of other men who served her. Her cartouche and relief images of her were chiselled off the walls of temples and her name was omitted from the “King Lists” of the ancient historians. To wipe out her name, meant that she was denied a place in the Afterlife. Our knowledge of her is largely thanks to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, whose archeologists found and painstakingly restored many broken statues. But, Mohammed added, the damage was done several years after Thutmose III began to reign. It is possible that he was not guilty of the destruction. “After three thousand five hundred years, Habibi, who can know the truth?”
The ship sailed peacefully along the wide river, edged with reeds, lush bushes and trees. In the shallow bays small brown-skinned children shouted at play. The colour of the water changed during the course of the day: sometimes it was the blue of lapis lazuli, sometimes pewter, sometimes gleaming gold as the sun set. The river, too, was a god in ancient times: Hapi, generous and fruitful, who caused the water to overflow the banks at the right season, leaving deposits of rich black soil, ready for the next sowing that would again deliver a good harvest. Hapi was bisexual, with both beard and breasts, male and female. Both strong and nurturing, as Hatshepsut also probably was.
We stopped at a number of jettys and went ashore to view enormous ruins: halls the size of city plains, lined with colossal pillars, most of which no longer support a roof. Walls engraved with gigantic relief images of ancient gods (with the heads of birds of prey, crocodiles, hippopotami), grandiose tales of battles and heroic deeds chiselled on the worn stone walls, imposing statues of long-dead pharaohs with legs like skyscrapers still reigning over the remnants of their domain.
But I was intent on the temple of Hatshepsut, at Deir el-Bahri (in her time known as Djeser-Djeseru, holy of holies). Since a Pharaoh was also a god, each had to have a funerary temple built where the god could be worshipped after death, and where priests could offer food for the Ka, the hungry soul. Some people believe that Hatshepsut’s temple was designed and built for her by Senenmut, the man who was her right hand. And perhaps much more? I leaned expectantly on the rail around the top deck as the ship made its stately way around a bend in the river.
And there, on the west bank – the abode of the dead – on a broad plain, set against a protective phalanx of towering crags, we saw one of the most astounding structures of the ancient world: the temple of Hatshepsut. No other structure in Egypt is anything like it: ivory limestone, strong horisontal lines and a surprising simplicity. Central ramps link three rising terraces; on either side are wings with rows of pillars set in place in perfect harmony almost a thousand years before the Parthenon was built. Badly damaged over the years, Mohammed told us, but carefully restored to a considerable extent.
“And did Senenmut design it?”
“It is believed so, Habibi,” said Mohammed.
Oh yes, I thought. It is quite exceptional. Designed with an original leap of the imagination and built with devoted commitment. I think the architect was none other than Senenmut, and he made it absolutely beautiful, because it was not merely an order from a pharaoh. It was a great ode to a beloved woman. Yes, he loved her. But did she love him? Habibi, who can know the truth?
For several decades, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York has been involved in archeological research regarding Hatshepsut. In 2006 they organised and presented a remarkable exhibition of not only their own collection relating to this pharaoh but also important items from elsewhere in the world. It seemed worthwhile to undertake the journey from our small village on the southeastern coast of Africa.
The exhibition filled several large halls, and it was extensive: from scarabs to sarcophagi, from earrings to sphinxes. There were daggers, battle-axes, surgical instruments, eye makeup, pieces of furniture, dog collars, tiny images of cats, friezes and several enormous statues. And there she was: Hatshepsut, larger than life-size, sculpted in granite. Nemset crown on her head, false beard firmly tied under her chin. And her attitude was that of a king, for she did not stand with her feet neatly together like a proper Egyptian consort, she stepped forward like a king might, going to meet his people, or to attack his enemies.
But I was particularly struck by the large number of statues of Senenmut: the man who began his career as a humble scribe, and was later appointed tutor to the princess Neferure (daughter of Hatshepsut and Thutmose II). There was one particular statue of him protectively holding the little princess on his lap, and even across three thousand five hundred years a loving relationship shines out of the dumb stone. In time he rose to become the right-hand man of the female pharaoh: “Great Steward of Amun, Overseer of the Royal Building Works”. Merely an official functionary? Nothing more than a valued employee?
He was an ordinary man, not an aristocrat. It was completely unheard-of that so many and such huge and remarkable statues should be made of such a common person. With the permission of the pharaoh. And yet images of him filled a large hall in the Metropolitan Museum, wall to wall: Senenmut.
A stranger standing beside me was clearly also struck by what he saw. He shook his head in disbelief. “She must have loved him, would you say, Ma’am?” he remarked, in the accents of the American South.
“Oh yes,” I said. “Oh, yes. I’m sure she did.”
SOURCES
1 Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh. Archeological Exhibition. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art 2006.
2 Johnson, Paul. 1999. The Civilization of Ancient Egypt. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson
3 Roehrig, Catherine H. (ed). 2006. Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.
4 Tyldesley, Joyce. 1998. Hatchepsut: The Female Pharaoh. London: Penguin
About the Author
Author bio
Marié Heese is a free-lance educational consultant and writer. Her novel about Hatshepsut, entitled The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh, is due to be published by Human & Roussouw, Cape Town, in June 2009.
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