Hatshepsut, Where Are You?

 After these incredibly weird mental callisthenics, I feel drained. My deliriously victorious and impressionable neurons are celebrating, and my logical brain is sulking. The rest of my grey matter, that which stayed out of the conflict altogether—the Switzerland portion—is trying to ignore the other two while enjoying the bus ride over to Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple, so named because it harbours her burial chamber, deep beneath the temple. 

Whether or not Hatshepsut was ever buried there is still under debate since she apparently shared a tomb with her father Tuthmoses I, in the Valley of the Kings. 

For a long time before coming to Egypt, I’ve been reading up on its history, people, and culture. As you know, I like Hatshepsut, and to my advantage, much has been written about her and Tuthmoses III over the years. Their relationship appears straightforward at first glance, but aspects of it remain unclear, shrouded in mystery. 

Hatshepsut, you’ll remember, is the queen regent who crowned herself pharaoh and ruled prosperously for two decades after usurping the throne of her nephew/stepson Tuthmoses III. Her accomplishments as pharaoh are many, including an expedition to the land of Punt, now modern Ethiopia, and the building of several temples and shrines. Best known of all is her extraordinary mortuary temple, which I’m about to see first-hand. 

At this temple—according to the books I’ve read—there are clear signs of the apparent discord between the two royals. Of the many statues of Hatshepsut, lining the massive court, only a few remain intact, most of them having been demolished by order of Tuthmoses, Mr. Tantrum-of-the-crooked-obelisk, after gaining power following his stepmom/aunt’s death. At least, that’s what most people believe, and the story does have a certain melodramatic flair to it. 

This long-accepted tale of the vengeful Tuthmoses, smashing statues and monuments, hacking away engravings, and defacing images of Hatshepsut, all in a fit of rage, has recently been challenged. Some scholars argue that the relationship between stepmother/aunt and stepson/nephew was that of a long co-regency, rather than Hatshepsut completely taking over and leaving Tuthmoses out on his ear. 

And there are facts that support these allegations. In the first place, co-regencies were common in pharaonic Egypt. The older monarch would “show the ropes” to his heir over a period that could span several years, during which, both would rule the country jointly. Hatshepsut may have done just that, assuming the throne while grooming her successor for kingship.

Secondly, when he became old enough, Tuthmoses entered the army, eventually becoming Commander in Chief. Now, why would you permit that if you’d stolen someone’s throne and crown? If you’re the pharaoh, are you going to let your enemy take control of the army? No, because that would leave you deposed and, most likely, dead. Tuthmoses was young, healthy, athletic, and powerful, and yet, he let Hatshepsut rule for over twenty years. Clearly he wasn’t her enemy.

Still, there’s the undeniable massacre of the monuments, statues, and images. Somebody went on a rampage, trying to erase traces of the queen pharaoh. A hypothesis, put forth by renowned archaeologist and Egyptologist Dr. Joyce Tyldesley, may explain this. 

Perhaps the damage was not done for the purpose of revenge, but to beef up Tuthmoses’s pharaoh résumé. By destroying all records of Hatshepsut as pharaoh, and hoping that succeeding kings would forget all about her—out of sight, out of mind—Tuthmoses could add the years of her reign and her massive achievements to his own, and therefore become one of the greatest pharaohs ever. So, instead of brooding and sulking for two decades over a lost crown, then finally getting into enough of a snit to ransack the place, he simply tried to rewrite history to fatten up his curriculum vitae. 

Ding, ding, ding! Does that not sound familiar? Ramses II?  Did he learn to reverse-forge from Tuthmoses? At least, Ramses stuck to putting his name on other people’s monuments. He didn’t try to delete fellow rulers from history and shove all written accounts of them into his scribe’s recycle bin.

Looking at this differently, to account for Hatshepsut’s censure from the pharaoh club, some may propose that the male egos of ancient Egypt couldn’t handle the successful reign of a woman, and so, refused to acknowledge her kingly contributions, but that would not be accurate. Hatshepsut was not the first woman to rule as king, nor was she the last. She definitely was the best, though. Plus, several queens had the power to rule as regent when their husbands were out on military campaigns, during inspections of faraway building projects, or other business trips. So, that wouldn’t be it. 

Well then, is it possible that, after the death of Hatshepsut, something snapped in Tuthmoses’s brain, and in a moment of insanity, he went postal on her temples and statues? Not if you consider the evidence: the attempted obliteration of Hatshepsut’s reign wasn’t a rash act, done in haste. It was sporadic, far from complete, and was carried out over a long period of time, some of it taking place when Tuthmoses was an old man. That brings us back to the theory of Tuthmoses putting a new spin on history for his own benefit.

So, we still don’t really know the motivation for the destructive measures taken against Hatshepsut. We’re lucky, however, that enough archaeological evidence remains of her existence to keep her memory and kingly accomplishments alive and well.

Let’s put away the history lesson. Our bus has now reached its intended target and the temple of the legendary pharaoh stands before us. This exceptional structure is comprised of two very large terraces each accessible by a long and wide stone ramp. Ramps, there are ramps! Hatshepsut, bless her heart, knew I was coming. She did, for she had her temple built with integrated wheelchair access. The entire temple is nestled against the massive rock cliff. A handful or statues bearing Hatshepsut’s youthful features, escapees of the slaughter, can be seen standing defiantly along the upper terrace. 

That’s about as much as we get to see of it. Regrettably, we have no time to visit the complex before heading back to the boat; we can only quickly admire it from afar, unable to see the sanctuaries and shrines inside, or the burial chamber. 

I should have known that the curse would be of the extended-release kind, the jinx that keeps on jinxing. This is the first temple seemingly built just for me, and I can’t go in and bask in its splendour. Knock it off Ramses! You’ve had your fun, now cut it out.

Seething, I recall another excursion that was denied me because of Mr. Ramses’s antics: a visit to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo and its world famous artefacts and exhibits. One of its most popular exhibits is that of the royal mummies, including the miscreant himself, Rammy Number Two. While my tour mates were visiting this lofty institution, I was busy dodging cholera in the hospital. 

It makes me wonder if the purpose of this whole curse thing was to keep me away from His Royal Person. Was he worried that I would pull on his toes? Stick my tongue out at him? Tell him awful mummy jokes? 

If that really is him.