Have you heard about the temple complex at Abu Simbel in Egypt? It’s one of those things I get really excited about, and I just read a book about it so I want to talk about it!
The temple complex at Abu Simbel is a magnificent set of two temples on the edge of the River Nile in an area called Nubia, near Egypt’s present-day southern border. The temples were dedicated by Pharaoh Ramses II in 1244 BCE. The smaller temple is dedicated to his favorite wife, Nefertari, but the larger temple is dedicated to Ramses himself. The facade is comprised of four colossal seated statues of the pharaoh–65 feet tall each and carved directly into the sandstone cliffs of the Nile. The colossi face east and every morning the rising sun lights up the statues, bringing Ramses II back to life again and again and again.
Ramses II died thirty years after dedicating the temples at Abu Simbel. At some point the complex is abandoned and the literal sands of time cover the surviving three colossi, until the 19th century when the temple is rediscovered by European explorers. The complex is praised as one of the most stunning examples of ancient Egyptian art and architecture.
We arrive at the 1960s. The Egyptian government is going to build a new dam on the Nile River, the Aswan High Dam. This new dam will allow them to control the annual flooding of the Nile, and also provide electricity for the Egyptian people.
The only problem is that the reservoir created by the new dam will flood much of Nubia. Villages will have to be moved, many small temples will be drowned, and the magnificent temple complex at Abu Simbel is destined to be lost again, this time forever.
At the behest of Egyptologists and the Egyptian government, UNESCO steps in, launching a campaign to fund the preservation of the threatened Nubian monuments. Schoolchildren send in their pennies. Widows send in their francs. Wealthy businessmen write cheques, but it is not enough. Far more money is needed.
Egypt decides to sweeten the deal. From the list of twenty or so threatened monuments, they pick five of the smaller temples. These temples will be given away to the nations that provide the most funds for this project. Caligula brought only an Egyptian obelisk back to Rome, but you could have your own temple in your capital city!
Now the funds start flowing. Germany and Italy step up to the plate, agreeing to donate large sums to the fund. France and the Netherlands follow. Workers flow into Nubia and begin dismantling and moving the smaller temples.
But not Abu Simbel.
Nobody is sure what to do with Abu Simbel. It is significantly larger than any of the other threatened temples, and–most importantly–it is carved of sandstone directly into the cliff. It cannot be cut into pieces without massive damage. So what to do? They consider floating the whole thing up. They consider building a glass bubble around it to protect the structure from the water. But there is no viable plan, and besides, they don’t have the funds for it. Abu Simbel is just too much: too big, too expensive, too difficult.
Enter Jackie Kennedy, First Lady of the United States.
At this point, the US government has been minimally involved in the project to save the Nubian monuments. The Cold War is at its height, the current president of Egypt has aligned himself with the Soviets, and Congress has deemed the entire project unworthy of their time or money.
But Jackie Kennedy, like her husband, is a voracious reader, a great student of history. She has a deep appreciation for art and archaeology, and she insists to her husband that Abu Simbel must be saved and that the United States must lead the effort.
Of course it takes more than just a first lady’s insistence to wrangle that kind of money out of the government. There is a great deal of political maneuvering and debating, but eventually the United States steps up an donates a very large sum of money for the rescue of Abu Simbel.
By this point, the Aswan High Dam is partially complete, and the river is rising. Time is running out to save Abu Simbel. But how?
They cut it apart. It shouldn’t have been done, but they had to do it. They cut up the cliff using large machinery. The colossi and other delicate pieces are cut apart with hand saws by skilled stonemasons from Italy. Each block is stabilized, marked, and slowly (so slowly!) brought up the hill.
Did you need to go reread that last paragraph? Those crazy motherfuckers cut the whole thing apart and moved it to the top of the hill. It couldn’t be done. It shouldn’t have even been attempted, but they did it.
And you know what they did after they cut it apart? They put it back together! They rebuilt the colossi, the cliff face, the inner temple structure, the whole damn thing. They even made sure to orient the statues facing east again so Ramses II could be reborn in the dawn light, just as he had been every morning for the past three thousand years.
I just love everything about this story. I love that in ancient Egypt a city of workers sprung up in the desert near Abu Simbel and they carved this magnificent temple into the cliff over the course of several years. I love that three thousand years later another city of engineers and stonemasons sprung up again, this time with a mission to preserve the work of their ancient counterparts. I love that nations that did not exist–nations in places that Ramses II could never even dream of, speaking languages he never heard–stepped up to the plate to save this ancient structure.
You all know the poem Ozymandias by Shelley, right? It is one of my favorites, a reminder that there is no eternal glory. But Shelley was writing before Abu Simbel was moved, back when it seemed there was no eternal life. The colossi stand today on the banks of a changed Nile in a changed world, and Ramses II still commands our modern awe.
If you are losing your mind over this like I am, please go enjoy this great UNESCO video about the rescue operation. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
