Opinion – Judy Harris: A Fulbright group finds the ancient peace of Cheop’s Pyramid in Egypt

“When Moses was alive, these pyramids were a thousand years old. Here began the history of architecture. Here people learned to measure time by a calendar, to plot the stars by astronomy and chart the earth by geometry. And here they developed that most awesome of all ideas – the idea of eternity.” — Walter Cronkite

In the first week of our group’s time in Egypt, the Fulbright staff planned for an afternoon of joining the throngs of tourists at Giza.

We rode camels, bartered with persistent vendors of all ages, took lots of photos, stood in awe beside The Sphinx and the reconstructed ancient Solar Boat, and climbed deep into Cheops’s center.

Superb lectures and many excursions filled the following weeks: Alexandria, The Sinai, The Valley of the Kings, the Upper Nile and Aswan. Our individual studies were well supported.

On return to Cairo and our getting ready to return home, three of our group wondered if a more personal visit to the pyramids might be possible. The pyramids greeted us on arrival. We would like to bid them farewell. The Fulbright staff, ever helpful and understanding, made the arrangements.

With our alarm clocks set for a very early hour, we met our private taxi to Giza.

On arrival, we were admitted well before the 8 a.m. opening of the grounds.

Over the distant Saharan hills, the camels and horses headed our way. The few vendors quickly determined we were not interested in their wares but in quiet time.

We found large stones near Cheops’s pyramid, separated, and settled down to await the dawn.

A young camel boy rode up quietly to ask if I might like a camel ride. I declined, pointing to my pen and paper.

“Meditating?” he asked. I nodded.

Sitting high on his camel, he held his arms wide, embracing the scene, “Did you feel the spirit?”

“Yes,” I smiled,” I think I did.”

Pyramids

Pink granite stone
At Chephren’s site,
My resting place
As Re breaks through
To greet me.

At southern point,
With sun-warmed back,
Cool steady northeast breeze,
Absent assaults
Of hawkers’ cries,
I touch the ancient peace.

The desert sands
Stretch out beyond
To mark my homeward way,
But tarry here, inshallah knows,
Travel another day.

Judy Harris
The Fulbrighter, Spring 1998

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