In Egypt's Valley of the Kings, The Pharaohs are Angry Tonight

From Ramses, to Tut; from Nefertiti to Hatshepsut: along the western edge of the great Nile, the Pharaohs are angry!! In the stillness of the desert night, brightly lit by the moon and the stars, they wake up from their slumber.  A soft but angry whisper is passed amongst them, from tomb to tomb; from mummy to mummy.  Then the whisper becomes a quieter rage carried north to Cairo on the wings of the desert winds.  It reverberates and grows into a hurricane of protests in which Cheops of the Great Pyramids, and the Sphinx join in a maddening scream:

"WHERE HAVE THE TOURISTS GONE? WE ARE ETERNAL, AND WE HAVE RIGHTS TOO!! WE ARE LONELY, DESERTED, EVEN DESPISED BY SOME OF THOSE WHO ROSE IN REBELLION AGAINST MUBARAK.  MUBARAK PRETENDED TO BE ONE OF US.  HA, HA, HA!!  WE BUILT A STABLE AND A GREAT NATION.  EGYPT IS OURS.  WE STAYED AND IT STAYED.  BRING US BACK OUR TOURISTS, OUR TRUE WORSHIPPERS, OUR THOUSANDS OF FOREIGN FRIENDS WHO TAKE PICTURES AND PROVIDE MOTHER EGYPT WITH HUGE INCOME.  GO BRING THEM BACK.  AND IF YOU DON'T, OUR CURSE SHALL BE UPON YOU!!"

Twenty percent of Egypt's foreign currency earnings have evaporated.  The income from tourism is probably more stable than the income from the Suez Canal.  But with the chaos in the Egyptian street, the tourists are staying away.  In December last year, I got accustomed to have breakfast alone at my Cairo hotel.  The cook and the helpers were my only companions.  They looked sad, even frightened as they tell me: "Dr. Yassin, we are at only 20% capacity!!  No more tourists except the occasional backpacker who cannot spend too much.  We have to feed our families and keep this place open!!"

In their frustration, they are not alone.  From the Minister of Tourism, Zaazou, to the Head of the Egyptian Tourism Authority, Nasser Hamdy, to the idle guides, the great city of Luxor now looks like a ghost town.  Ninety percent of its population depend on tourism for their livelihood.  Guides have tours but only three or four a month.  The guards of those great monuments are also idle.  Cruise ships are moored together in bunches along the Nile.  The smell of death, death of a great Egyptian industry, is unmistakable.  Neither Indian nor Iranian tourism can replace the traditional western, Russian, Japanese, and Australian tourists who are the big spenders.

In 1949, one year after college graduation, I wrote a play in Arabic, one of a total of 17 which in 1952 garnered for me a Fulbright Scholarship to the U.S.  My plays, which were also used as methods of teaching Egyptian history, had songs in them.  I was reminded of one of them at the Valley of the Kings, west of the Nile in Luxor.  Here is how it happened:

I was standing with a group of American friends at the entrance of the tomb of King Tut.  Our young guide was an Assistant Professor of Antiquities in Cairo.  His name is Tarek, a bright young man whose mother was German, and who loved his subject.  Suddenly Tarek told the group:

"We have among us today the author of a play in Arabic which my University Department has used as a part of lively teaching material.  The title of the play is 'Conflict Among the Gods.'  Here is the author!!"  His finger was pointing at me.  It was a play on the original ancient concept of the Holy Trinity: Father (Osiris), mother (Isis) and son (Horus).  Horus, depicted in monuments as a falcon was avenging the brutal death of his father at the hands of the malevolent, Seth, Osiris' brother.  Osiris stood for ancient Egypt as the great just ruler.  He also stood for the concepts of resurrection and victory over death.

The love of ancient Egypt was drilled in us as of primary school.  At the age of 8, my father, an Islamic scholar, took me from our village northeast of the Nile Delta to Cairo.  It was my first time in that historic capital.  Our first destination was the Pyramids and the Sphinx.  There I stood speechless gazing upon those timeless attractions.  Suddenly my father started to recite a secular prayer -a poem extolling the nexus between Egypt and its monuments.  In my translation, the poem goes like this:

"These are our monuments;

 After we are gone;

Don't forget to come gaze upon us."

But today, the Pharaohs are angry!! No more tourists to gaze upon them!!