Egypt's ancient tombs and temples had survived for thousands of years, but why was it assumed they were indestructible? Jill Kamil looks at how the potential danger of the High Dam was ignored Half a century ago, we tended to think that the monuments built by the ancient Egyptians along the full length of the Nile Valley had stood for so long that they must be immune to the forces of time and nature. Now we know differently. As Egypt celebrates the foundation of the High Dam, the cornerstone of the country's economic development envisioned by Gamal Abdel-Nasser, articles are appearing in the press about its planning stages, construction and advantages. I am reminded of some of its disadvantages, especially for the country's ancient heritage. During its construction between 1960 and 1971, the High Dam at Aswan was regarded as a boon that would improve conditions for the conservation of monuments. The stabilisation of the river would certainly overcome the danger of high floods, and this would enable the reinforcement of undermined foundations and prevent further collapse of large structures. Furthermore, the injury caused to some monuments by the excessive wetting and drying out each year would be ended. Or so it was thought. Egyptologists were hopeful that the future of the monuments would be assured. Before long, however, it was becoming clear that the higher average water table was damaging reliefs through seepage and salt erosion, and that the combination of these effects was even more damaging than the annual -- and temporary -- inundation. True, the annual flood had totally destroyed reliefs on the lower reaches of the temple walls, but those parts above flood level were -- considering their age -- well-preserved. Now the seepage and salt erosion were also causing progressive deterioration of the reliefs on the upper walls. There was no doubt that the legendary "Hundred-gated Thebes" was under threat. Archaeological teams working in Luxor set to work to address the problem, but it was no easy task because many previously held views on conservation had to be revised. For example, there had been a misconception that damage to reliefs was caused through subterranean seepage alone, and that there was no humidity in Upper Egypt. But there certainly is, and it increased as the Lake Nasser reservoir began to form behind the High Dam. Moreover, methods of conservation that had proved successful on monuments in other parts of the world were not working in Egypt. Here the natural process of evaporation of moisture has to be allowed for, but crystallisation has to be curbed. Experiments took time. Seasons passed. Time took its toll. And on successive visits to Luxor one could clearly see deterioration -- decay creeping up temple walls like some cursed disease, leaving the reliefs pimpled, festered and spoiled. Another problem that could be related to the dam was tomb robbing. Now this was nothing new; there were robbers even in Pharaonic times, and before the foundation of the Antiquities Department in 1850 (at first administered by the French under Auguste Mariette), the plundering of excavations had resulted in great collections of Egyptian antiquities abroad, in France, Britain, Italy and the Netherlands. However, the looting of monuments and smuggling of antiquities abroad reached an all time high when the dam was being built and attention was focussed on Nubia. This was because archaeological sites in Egypt were largely unprotected during the salvage operations. Robbers and antiquities dealers had a field day. Objects were dug up by gangs of workmen in broad daylight and shipped abroad. When the government eventually became aware of the problem they took drastic, but what proved to be totally ineffective measures. A decision was taken to absorb the manpower released from the High Dam to police archaeological sites. What a foolhardy decision that was! By appointing people who had no sense of the value of what they were protecting, and who, in any case, received such meagre salaries that they felt their country owed them more than they were earning, was asking for trouble. While many of the guards were honest and deeply resented the intrusion, there were others who were only too pleased to make extra money by turning a blind eye. It was a vicious circle. The security police intimidated the guards, because they themselves were subjected to bribes by antiquities dealers. All along the line palms are greased and backs turned. At the first International Congress of Egyptology (ICE) in 1976, Labib Habachi presented a paper entitled "Damages and Robberies of Egyptian Monuments in the Last Half Century". His Egyptian colleagues tried to dissuade him from "putting an ugly face on Egypt and Egyptology", but he went ahead nevertheless. He described some of the most well-known and theoretically well-protected areas that had suffered most seriously from vandalism, and astounded his audience when he mentioned such sites as Giza, Memphis and Thebes. He called for collaboration by the curators of foreign museums to refrain from buying objects before making sure of their status with the Egyptian authorities, and for the Antiquities Department to ensure that storehouses were properly constructed and guarded. He laid stress on the need for proper documentation. Habachi's lecture was well received, and he was soundly congratulated, but surprisingly, it was not until the 1990s, nearly 15 years after his presentation, that the recently reformed Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA) managed to procure strong ties with the international police organisation Interpol and customs agencies all over the world, and together with the newly-formed Department for the Recovery of Stolen Artefacts (DRSA) watch for signs of lost treasures, and attempt to curb their flow. It is not an easy task. Egypt's ancient treasures are found over such a widespread area that it is not possible to keep track of them. Until today, objects are being stolen from archaeological sites and warehouses and being smuggled out of the country. Some are put up for sale at auction house and are recognised by archaeologists browsing the Internet, and SCA Secretary-General Zahi Hawass, is making every effort -- with some success -- to have them returned to Egypt. However, the tragedy of modern-day plunder is that antiquities are lost to the world of art and scholarship. Too often they make their way out of the country through antique dealers, and into private collections. Another problem that can be traced to the construction of the High Dam is injury to monuments by tourists. Their numbers increased following the publicity surrounding the Nubia Salvage Operation during construction of the dam. Earlier, fewer than 100 visitors a day visited Luxor's magnificent monuments, and fewer still went on to Abu Simbel. Now there were thousands. They started arriving by train, river, bus and private car, and in order to facilitate their movement to the Theban necropolis a decision was taken to build a bridge over the Nile and a rest-house in the heart of the Valley of the Kings. Both caused problems. Rumbling tourist buses parked near the sacred valley caused vibration that adversely affected the tombs, and water drainage from the rest-house seeped into the porous limestone bedrock and did more damage. Then there was the question of tour leaders (often transporting groups of 40), anxious to keep them intact and happy, hustling them -- too many at a time -- through the priceless corridors of the royal tombs before an earlier group emerged. Some steps were taken to control the movement of visitors. Alternative itineraries were formed to ease the pressure; a terminal was built for the buses at a safe distance from the tombs; and tour leaders were obliged to lecture their groups outside the tombs, before entering them. These were all steps in the right direction. Hope was on the horizon. But then a decision was taken to build an international air terminal in Luxor, and the daily number of visitors doubled almost overnight to 4,000 a day -- in addition to those that were bussed in from the Red Sea resorts. These numbers are largely responsible for rapid changes in temperature and humidity levels in the tombs. Tourism is essential for the Egyptian economy and is expected to increase even further in the next decade. Long-term management plans are being put into operation to counter any negative effects. Dewatering programmes around Luxor and Karnak temples on the east bank of the Nile and on the necropolis include large-scale engineering work to install a city-wide sewage system around the most frequently visited and important monuments. Unfortunately, work does not always progress as quickly as planned because engineering operations sometimes reveal the presence of unknown or previously lost monuments around the temple complexes, and work is held up for an indefinite period while archaeological decisions are taken. This is what happened when, many years ago, a decision was taken to open up the ancient sphinx- lined avenue extending from the portal of Euergetes I at Karnak to the entrance pylon of Luxor temple. This was the scene of the annual Opet festival, when the god Amun visited his southern harem. Reliefs of the festival are depicted in Amenhotep III's colonnade in Luxor temple, showing sacred barges being brought out the Holy of Holies at Karnak and carried on the shoulders of white- robed priests to the river, and then towed upstream in a splendid and majestic procession. The festival took place at the height of the Nile flood and continued for 24 days of merry-making. After the sacrifice of slaughtered bulls and offerings to the temple gods (Amun, Mut and Khonsu), the return procession continued along the avenue of sphinxes, with soldiers, standard-bearers, dancers, acrobats, and musicians in attendance. The idea of re-activating this ancient avenue for tourism was excellent. But its progress was held up again and again. It took time to release the sphinxes, many in poor condition, from centuries of accumulated silt. Then there was the problem of relocating people from the urban settlements built over the long-buried route. An even more pressing problem was the Makashkash Mosque, which partly covered the ancient avenue, north of the Luxor Temple entrance. It seemed likely that this would have to remain in position and that there would have to be a detour along the Pharaonic highway. Fortunately, however, SCA staff found a photograph taken in about 1880 that shows a minaret standing by the sheikh's tomb to the east of the Sphinx Avenue. Apparently the mosque was later enlarged. Thus it has been possible to remove its side walls while retaining, and restoring, the minaret and the sheikh's tomb, which will have a special public access. The Sphinx Avenue is still years from completion, but tourism marches forward. Following the inauguration of an international airport at Hurghada on the Red Sea coast, thousands more tourists began to travel to Luxor on day trips. In order to cope with the extra traffic, a decision was taken to double the width of the Nile Corniche boulevard. Egyptologists and concerned Luxor residents responded to the decision with horror, regarding it as a threat to historical 19th-century buildings and other structures on the town's riverside esplanade. Several of the city's landmarks between the two major temples would have to be demolished. These included a military club, a Coptic-Catholic rest-house, and the Chicago House garden. "Can a less radical plan not be drawn up?" wrote one of the many anxious parties on a blog. Apparently not. Chicago House has lost part of its garden; the façades of the Bank of Alexandria, the Etap/Mercure Hotel, and the garden of the Bishop's residence have been cut back. The National Democratic Party headquarters in front of Luxor Temple has been demolished, as has the beautiful old Andraus Pasha house. The tell (mound) behind Luxor is now being subjected to an emergency archaeological survey before being demolished. By next summer that too will probably be lost. Can one attribute all this to human intervention in the form of the High Dam at Aswan built half a century ago? Probably not. One cannot halt progress, and it is wise to look on the positive side. The sloping and sinuous seven-kilometre stretch of rapids known as the First Cataract may have disappeared, yet Aswan remains one of the most picturesque of Egypt's river cities. Nubia has been inundated, but its great monuments have been saved and are major tourist attractions. And as for Luxor, the fact that it is bringing in so many tourists that the wide cornice road being built will, it is rumoured, be turned into a pedestrian area, while the sphinx-lined avenue will bear the brunt of the traffic, is surely good for tourism. "Say no more!" said a tour guide, who added that it was unfortunate that visitors may not for long be able to "wander around the town and mix with the locals".
