Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'It's not that they don't care - they just don't have a concept of it. Time, history, tradition
. . . They don't have reverence for anything other than God.'
Telling Ahmad and Awad to stay with the camels, Moez and I ventured closer to the
north cemetery. Pyramids rose out of the crust on either side of us and, as the sun began
to fall, they cast long shadows, giving the scene a surreal appearance. These were nothing
like the Pyramids of Egypt, thronged by tourists day and night. The Pyramids of Meroe
were smaller, and nowhere could we see any signs of human habitation. Dwarfed by the
ancient monoliths, Moez pointed out the hieroglyphs etched into the walls: dog-headed
gods and the sign of Anubis; depictions of eagles, rams and crocodiles. He pointed to later
inscriptions, too, names carelessly carved into the rock: W. Matthews RE and R.A. Trow-
bridge, 1898 - a clear sign that the English soldier of the Victorian era cared but little for
the antiquities the colonies.
'They seem so small, compared to Egypt.'
'They are smaller,' said Moez, 'but not as small as you think. Most of these pyramids
are buried under the sand. The desert's so much deeper than it was when Meroe was at its
height. It would take an army of men to excavate these pyramids and find out what was
truly inside. But, one day, we'll know . . .'
As the sun began to set, I felt like I wanted to be alone, and tramped off as Moez and
the others returned to set up camp in the shadow of the tallest pyramid. Awad and Ahmad
were befuddled at the thought of camping here, but I wanted nothing more than to see the
dawn break over these magnificent structures. Alone, I climbed to the ridge, letting the last
rays of sunlight warm my face as they disappeared into the desert beyond the mighty Nile.
Suddenly, I felt very small. The realisation was finally dawning on me that the footprints
I was trailing across Africa were ephemeral, transitory things - that, whatever I could ac-
complish with this expedition, it could never last as long as these symbols of civilisation
before me. Here I was, on the threshold of the ancient world, where human beings have
left a tangible reminder of their existence in the form of great tombs pointing to the heav-
ens - a dedication, as it were, to the gods, of their own achievements and sacrifices. It was
a humbling feeling.
Only days ago, I had been buoyed by the thought of passing the half-way mark and be-
ginning the long road home - but now another thought drew me in. Tomorrow, I would
begin my journey into the Nile of antiquity, a Nile whose history and people have been
recorded in a way that, further south, was not the case. This was the cradle of civilisation,
a place where empires had risen and fallen millennia before there was even such a thing as
England.
It must have been here, in the shadows of these pyramids, that the little band of Romans,
having come from the north on the adventure of a lifetime, prepared for the next leg of
their expedition, into the vast swamps of the Sudd. Though one dissenting Italian historian,
