Missing in Egypt

by Rita Lee Chapman

  “What if they don’t let us go afterwards” Yasmeen persisted. “We should have a plan to get us out of here”. I didn’t disagree. It had already occurred to me that they may not be intending to let us go. If we were killed and our bodies buried near the tomb – who would ever find us? There was a very convenient pile of rubble already loosened by us to reveal the tomb that would be easy to hide three bodies in. “Our only chance would be to lock them in the tomb when they are all down there and run to the truck” I whispered. “We will just have to keep our eyes open for such an opportunity”.

  Gahiji pricked his ears when he heard our whispers. “Be quiet” he yelled out. “You no talk good”. We left it at that.

  4. Golden Treasures

  Early the next morning Rashidi, Mosi and Mohammed were back to collect us. The truck had acquired a cover overnight – a high canvas affair similar to an army truck. They obviously planned to pack a lot of treasures into it. When Mohammed opened the gate to the tomb he signalled to us to go in. “Come and see what you are going to move for us” he said. He handed us each headgear with a torch in the middle of it. Whilst Rashidi and Mosi remained at the top we made our way down the roughly-hewn steps deep into the ground. Masud led the way, keen to see what he had first seen so many years before.

  At the bottom of the tunnel there was a huge chamber. Yasmeen and I gasped in awe as we saw the treasures it held. The gold carriage which Masud had spoken of was as breathtaking as he had described. The chamber was filled to capacity with the most amazing objects. As we turned around our torches picked up more and more artefacts and the golden objects glistened in the beams of light.

  We made our way into one of the two smaller chambers. This was also filled with treasures. The other smaller chamber, as Masud had told us, held the sarcophagus. It was very small – similar in size to that of Tutankhamun, the boy King. It too was surrounded by treasures. “By the work that has gone into the tomb it seemed they had known she was going to die young and had been busy preparing it for her. Although it could have been prepared for someone else and she died first” Mohammed explained. “No matter, it is going to make us very rich. Now it is time for you to make yourselves useful. Start with the largest chamber and make sure you don’t damage anything”.

  I wasn’t sure how Masud was going to manage this. The steps were very crudely cut and it was a steep climb back up the tunnel. Then it was long walk to the truck. We obviously needed either more people or some other way of getting the treasures to the truck. Apparently Mohammed had thought of this. “You” he said, pointing to Masud “come with me, you will drive the donkey cart”. Obviously he didn’t want anyone else knowing about the tomb! The donkey cart was of long, thin construction and would just fit through the gap in the ravine. “Well” I thought, “that suits us because as long as we are needed we are safe,” although I still harboured strong doubts as to whether they would let us go once the job was done.

  Some time later Masud and Mohammed returned with a mule and narrow cart. It was Masud’s job to load the cart, drive the mule to the truck and unload on to the truck. Sometimes Mosi would help him. Mohammed would then drive the truck to wherever they were storing the treasures and unload them by himself. It was up to Yasmeen, myself and Mosi to bring the treasures out of the tomb.

  We constantly marvelled at the objects we were moving. They dazzled in the sunlight when we brought them to the surface. Mohammed had provided bags in which to load the jewellery and smaller items. The larger items, such as the carriage pieces, urns and even a raft, Mosi and I had to manhandle up the steps. Yasmeen would be in raptures over some of the treasures. “This piece alone” she said, holding up a golden necklace “would be worth more than £E100,000. Can you imagine what they are going to get for all of this?” she exclaimed, waiving her hands at everything around us.

  We spent many days just emptying the large chamber. Then we started on the smaller one which held the sarcophagus. These were mainly small items such as combs, jewellery and even a mummified dog and cat. “What are you going to do about the sarcophagus?” Rashidi asked Mohammed. “We will leave it here” he replied. “I do not want to draw attention by selling a mummy and, if there is a curse on the tomb, maybe it will be placated if we leave the sarcophagus in tact.”

  I was very relieved to hear that – not so much in relation to the curse but more the fact that I very much doubted Mosi and I were up to the task of removing it – even if we used rollers and tried to drag it up the tunnel.

  We only knew what day of the week it was because on Sunday we were given a rest day as our Christian Egyptian captives thought we would work better if we had a day of rest. Although it was nice not to have to break our backs in the sun it was a very long day with nothing to do – no TV, unable to go out and only Gahiji for company. Yasmeen and her father slept most of the afternoon whilst I tried to devise a way of getting us out of this mess. Our only chance was to get hold of the truck but our captors were very alert to our every move and very careful about not leaving the keys in it. I could see no way of getting us all out together. So far I had not been game to try and implement my plan to lock them in the tomb whilst we made our escape.

  They were very careful to leave Rashidi outside the tomb at all times to watch over us. He helped to load the cart but apart from that his main duty was to keep an eye on us. “Perhaps” I thought “once they have what they want they will just let us go. Although we know their names, we have never seen their faces, as they keep them covered at all times and they could easily be using false names to protect themselves.”

  The final chamber had larger objects and it took us a few days to empty it. But eventually everything had been removed. I had no idea where all the treasures had been moved to but I figured Mohammed had a big storage area somewhere and would sell the items gradually so as not to flood the market and draw too much attention. No doubt he had buyers lined up for items for private collections.

  After we removed the final objects Rashidi ordered Mosi and I to cover the tomb entrance with rubble. We toiled in the heat to conceal the tomb without moving any more rocks than we needed. With the job almost complete, Rashidi went off to help unload the donkey cart leaving Mosi to guard us. He ordered Yasmeen and Masud to help me finish covering the entrance. As they came to join me I took the chance to stretch my aching limbs. Then I moved to the side to make more room for the others. I made my way almost behind Mosi and picked up a good sized boulder.

  Suddenly, in the heat of the day, three shots rang out across the desert.

  Section III Life Decision - Mine

  1. Valley of the Queens

  Kareem and I spent the rest of the day planning our next move. Early the next morning Kareem went out and hired a car. We took water and some bread, cheese and fruit and set off for the Valley of the Queens. With some difficulty we located the track that served as a road to go up into the hills behind Queen Hatshepsut’s tomb. Far away from the tourists there were tracks into a small village and it was there we stopped at the local bakery to ask if they knew the family of Edjo. Our request was met with a blank stare – they didn’t understand English and if they understood the word “Edjo” they were not letting on. You couldn’t always tell with the Egyptians whether they really didn’t understand or were using the language barrier as an excuse not to help.

  The village was very small. Kareem wandered around, asking the same questions at the local shop and also of a couple of very old men sitting on a bench in the square. They raised their wrinkled faces and squinted at us through half closed eyes. Then one of them shrugged his shoulders, raising his hands as if to say “who knows, who cares?” All his inquiries were met with the same blank look. “Okay,” he said “this is obviously not going to get us anywhere. We need to find the Imam for this area and ask him. If he hasn’t heard of Edjo he may be able to check their records”.

  The village wasn’t big enough for its own Imam so we returned to Luxor to inquire there. We went to the main
mosque and sought out the Imam. We were told he wasn’t available now but to come back at 2 pm and he would speak with us. We were glad to have our lunch and to discuss how we would broach the subject. After some deliberating, we decided to tell him that Ramy and Yasmeen were missing and we believed that Edjo, a friend of Yasmeen’s late grandfather, might be able to help us find them.

  Promptly at 2 pm we presented ourselves at the mosque and soon after the Imam appeared and greeted us. “Welcome” he said in good English. “How can I help you?” Kareem explained he was looking for his brother and girlfriend who had disappeared. The Imam made the appropriate sympathetic noises. “We think the family of a close friend of the girl’s late grandfather may be able to help us find them but we do not know where they live now” Kareem said. “We thought you may be able to help us – either from personal knowledge or from the Mosque’s records”. “I will do what I can” the Imam replied. “Tell me what you know”. “Very little, I’m afraid” “Kareem replied. “The girl’s father is Masud Ahmose and his father’s friend was called Edjo and he came from a small village behind the Valley of the Queens. That is all we know”.

  “I will go through the records tonight and see if I can find anyone named Edjo around that age. I myself have only been her for 10 years and am not aware of him, but I will do my best to help you. Come and see me again tomorrow at 9 am.” We returned to Luxor, fervently hoping the Imam would be able to give us a lead. Without this, we really had no idea how we could proceed.

  The Imam arrived at ten after nine and again greeted us courteously. “You will be pleased to know I have some good news for you” he said. There was only one person named Edjo in the records for that area who would be the right age. His family name is Ahmad and they live in the village behind Queen Hatshepsut’s tomb. As you know Edjo died some time ago but he had two sons, Rohmald and Gahiji. As far as I know, they still live there”.

  We thanked the Imam profusely and returned to our room to consider our next move. Edjo’s sons lived in the village where we had asked about Edjo and it seemed odd that no-one had recognised the name and directed us to either Rohmald or Gahiji. Not being able to think of any explanation other than our bad pronunciation, we decided to head off back to the village and start again. As we were about to leave the hotel, Hamidi called out to us. “Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” Kareem and I exchanged glances. We were not sure how much to tell Hamidi. “We are going to the village behind Queen Hatshepsut’s tomb to find Rohmald and Gahiji Ahmad, who may know something of my brother’s disappearance” Kareem replied. “Wait a minute and I’ll come with you” Hamidi replied. “It will be much easier for me to translate for you – most of the villagers don’t speak any English you know”.

  I can’t say I was sorry to have Hamidi along. It would certainly be a lot easier if we had someone who could speak the language and we had no reason to doubt Hamidi’s friendship.

  We started at the local store. This time Hamidi went in, closely followed by us. He greeted the owner and then spoke to him, asking if he knew where we could find Rohmald or Gahiji Ahmad. We could tell by the nodding of the shopkeeper’s head that he knew of them and, by the gesticulating of his hands, how to find them. Hamidi thanked him and we returned to the car. “Gahiji still lives here” he said. “At the top of the next hill there is a track to the left. About half a kilometre further on there is a track to the right and Gahiji lives about a kilometre down the track in a whitewashed house.”

  I felt quite excited as we turned off on to the first track. Maybe at last we were going to get somewhere. I didn’t know what Kareem would ask Hamidi to say. Would he mention a secret tomb or unrivalled treasure? I wished fervently that we had been able to talk this over before we met with Gahiji.

  The house was easy to spot – it was the only one down that track and quite isolated. It was also very simple – small and untidy looking with rubbish all around it. I wondered if anyone still lived there. Hamidi and Kareem marched up to the front door whilst I waited in the car. Kareem knocked loudly. At first it seemed no-one was at home, but there was a twitching of the curtains and Kareem caught the man’s eye so reluctantly he came to the door. Hamidi explained that we were looking for Kareem’s brother and showed him a photo of Ramy and Yasmeen. “Yasmeen’s grandfather was a very good friend of your father” Hamidi explained. The man invited them in and Kareem waved to me to join them. The man introduced himself as Gahiji Ahmad. He spoke some broken English. Kareem asked him about his brother. “Rohmald? “ he said, sounding surprised. “He is in your country, Australia. He lives in Sydney”. Kareem asked him if he had seen Ramy or Yasmeen. He seemed uncomfortable and unwilling to look closely at the photo. “No, no” he said, waving the photo away. “What do you want from me?”

  Kareem took a deep breath and took the bull by the horns. “Did your father ever mention a secret tomb to you?” he asked. The man made out that he didn’t understand the question. Hamidi, having recovered from his initial surprise at the question, repeated it in Egyptian. “No, no,” Gahiji said again, becoming quite agitated. He feigned a laugh. “No secret tomb” he said quite adamantly. We stood silently, not knowing where to go next with the conversation. “And now, “he continued “I must get back to work.” With that, he ushered us through the small doorway and back out into the heat.

  We climbed back into the car and Kareem started the engine and we drove back to the village. We were hot and thirsty and decided to stop at the local café for coffee. Kareem and I were feeling very flat. Hamidi, of course, was full of questions. “What secret tomb are you talking about?” he asked. “Where did you hear of such a thing? Why would Gahiji know anything about this? How long have you known about this? Why did you not tell me anything?”

  Kareem and I looked at each other. With a shrug of his shoulders, Kareem answered Hamidi. “We don’t really know anything about it, Hamidi. We are just trying to find out why Ramy and Yasmeen have disappeared, as well as Yasmeen’s father. It seems Yasmeen’s grandfather had a very good friend called Edjo, who was Gahiji and Rohmald’s father. Yasmeen’s mother told Anna that there was some talk of a secret tomb many years ago. Maybe it is just that, just talk, we don’t know”.

  Hamidi was quiet for a while, sipping his coffee. You could almost see the wheels inside his head going around. “What do you think is in this tomb?” he asked when he had drained his cup. “We don’t know” Kareem lied. “We are just trying to find some connection, some reason for their disappearance.” “Well, this Gahiji, he know nothing” said Hamidi. “and his brother is in Australia so he is no help to you. What are you going to do now?” “I don’t know” Kareem replied wearily. “We just seem to be getting nowhere.” “Let us go back to the hotel” said Hamidi. “I will cook you a nice lunch and then we will put our heads together.”

  While Hamidi rustled up some food in the kitchen, Kareem and I went up to our room. “Did you believe Gahiji?” I asked him. “No way” he replied. “He was far to cagey and obviously just wanted to get rid of us. His brother probably is in Australia but I’m sure he knows more than he is letting on. What did you think?” “I agree absolutely” I told him. “He is up to something. But how are we going to find out anything more?” “I think we have to go back and look around the tracks from the village” Kareem replied. “Because it hardly ever rains here, tyre marks stay on the tracks for a long while. If there is a secret tomb, and Gahiji knows something about it, we can assume he has been there and there must be tracks somewhere from his house or the village out into nowhere land. Maybe we will be lucky and find them.”

  We decided not to tell Hamidi any more at this stage. The less people knew about the possibility of a secret tomb the better. Over lunch he asked us again whether we thought a secret tomb could be the reason why they were missing. “Not really” Kareem answered, with a shrug of his shoulders that implied it was only the wildest of guesses. “It sounds highly improbable and we have no leads to follow.” “I could ask some que
stions for you” Hamidi volunteered. “We really don’t think there is any truth in it” I countered “we were just trying to get a reaction from Gahiji.” We steered the conversation to talking generally about the hopelessness of our task and how we should think about going home.

  As soon as we could excuse ourselves we told Hamidi that we were going to talk to the Travel Agent and headed back to the Valley of the Queens. We found the track to Gahiji’s house quite easily but were reluctant to drive past it again. We would be very conspicuous. Instead we drove past the track and after about a kilometre we saw another track. It was obviously used quite a lot, judging by the tyre marks. We followed it for about ten kilometres when it ran into a small cluster of houses. There was only one road out of this little village so we retraced our steps and went further on along our original track. The next track went off to the left and didn’t look as if it was used much, if at all. After a short while it ended, so again we retraced our steps. It was then another five kilometres or so before we found the next track. This one was very narrow and also looked as if it didn’t go anywhere but the tyre and cart tracks were profuse and where they met a large area had been flattened out by footprints. This was more hopeful! The track was too narrow to drive along so we left the car and started to walk. We were not too far down it when it turned sharply to the left and the track dropped quite steeply between two large rocks. From the road you would never know that the track continued. The track swung around to the right at the bottom of the two rocks and then widened out into a large flat area. Here the ground had been greatly disturbed. There were many footprints and many cart and donkey tracks. Something had certainly been happening here – but what? A meeting place, some kind of religious gathering? Or could it be our secret tomb? We sat on a small rock and surveyed the scene, trying to make sense of what we were seeing. There were several small hills, some obviously caused by heavy rains pushing down the small rocks and sand. However, most of the activity seemed to focus around one particular mound and we walked over to have a closer look. “What if this is the secret tomb” Kareem speculated “and all the activity was caused by the removal of its contents?” I nodded slowly, thinking about this possibility. “But there is no sign of an entrance” I said after a few seconds. “What if it was covered up afterwards? If you had found a secret tomb and wanted it to stay secret, wouldn’t you cover the entrance up again before you left? Maybe there are still some treasures down there” Kareem suggested.