Ottile (y12) Uppingham School - Temple of Karnak

Introduction

The temple was initially constructed in 2000BC in the middle kingdom but what remains today was built in the new kingdom (1550-1070) and many pharaohs contributed to its expansion over the years including Seti I, Ramses II, Thutmose III, and Hatshepsut. The site plays host to many extraordinary building features. Among these is the great Hypostyle hall in which resides 134 columns arranged in rows. Visitors to the temple marvel at their size and the intricacy of the remaining reliefs and hieroglyphs. Another notable feature of the site was the sacred man-made lake which played an important role in many ancient rituals. Priests would wash in the lake before performing in religious ceremonies showing the temples connections with divine order and cosmology.

The Karnak temple was an important spiritual and political centre of ancient Egypt. Many celebrations were held there, the most infamous of which being the Opet festival which took place in late summer/early autumn. The main component of this festival was a large procession which started at Karnak temple and ended at the Luxor temple. The festivities were punctuated with music, dances, and acrobatic displays to entertain the many thousands of spectators. Among these were the Pharaoh who was central to the festivities, they would take part in rituals which represents divine rebirth and their reestablishment as the medium between the gods and the people. Priests and temple officials were also in attendance and they orchestrated the ceremonies. In a logistical capacity, there were military and civil officers including provincial governors and administrators who oversaw the organisation of the event. Spectators watching on would wave papyrus leaves and lotus flowers in reverence of their gods, Amun-Ra, Mut and Khonsu who passed by in sacred Barques. The festival saw the unition of people from varied levels within the social hierarchy from the divine and their intermediaries to festival administrators to ordinary civilians. The festival was a great spectacle unanimously enjoyed by all involved.

The Karnak Temple

At dawn, the sound of rich music saturated the streets, soaking the heat-cracked and ordinarily insipid buildings in canorous colour, the kind of colour that can be felt but not necessarily seen. I could feel its vibrance as though it ran cool and coursing through my own blood. It sounded the imminent start of the Opet festival. I ran without a thought for shoes towards the temple and only many days later noticed the sores on my feet. When I arrived, the air was thick and hot with the anticipation of thousands. They lined the path, shaking papyrus leaves and lotus flowers as though to wave time onwards. The crowds were viscous and teeming with acrobats and dancers. I stopped to admire their mastery for a moment before realising I had no way of seeing the procession itself, the true spectacle. I scanned the backs of onlookers, willing there to be a gap and yet, as one, the crowd swayed fluidly as a snake sways before its charmer, filling the space. Yet one thought consumed me, I had to find a way to see.

I backed away and slipped, unnoticed by officials too distracted by the festivities, into the great temple itself. I wondered through rooms whose walls whispered conspiratorially with an ancient and forbidden magic. The inner temples were exclusive to high priests and kings and the very floor seemed to rumble with outrage at my intrusion. I found myself in a great hall in which colossal columns reached skywards as though one could climb them and reach the heavens. The ceiling for that matter was painted a star-spangled deep blue though I had barely a moment to appreciate it until a second wave of awe hit me as the columns’ reliefs came into focus. The incandescence of the colours was entirely overwhelming, the artists had fashioned the stone into animated figureheads which seemed to dance when met by the comparably dim light of the hall. Some depicted Pharaohs in genuflect before the Amun-Ra, others showing great muscular figures, smiting fleeing enemies below. High above my head, images of papyrus buds and lotus flowers populated the capitals as though to shield those below from the ineffable light of the gods above. I stumbled on through the hall trying to make sense of the seemingly endless rows of columns.

At last, I found a doorway and upon reaching it, looked over my shoulder for a moment, wishing to take in the sight that was concealed ordinarily to all but a few. I wish I had the time to stay for ever but my dutiful anticipation pulled my hand to the door and pushed it open. I had to take a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the daylight. I looked up now, though my head was still flashing with the colours of the hall. An incredible sight met my eyes, just a few steps in front of me was the shore of what appeared to be the great sacred lake. The water was turquoise in colour and its unhasting stillness seemed to summon me forwards. I dithered for a moment before the unrelenting force of it drained any self-preservation still left to me. I rushed forwards and knelt in the shallows, delighting in the healing coolness of the ripples on my skin and the forgiving softness and liquidity of the fine sand beneath me. I couldn’t help but dip backwards, submerging my head for a moment.

Upon surfacing, I was met with the rich and unmistakable aroma of burning incense. This awakened me at once from my stupor and I hastened to my feet. I hurried along the shore line and back into the temple. This time however, I was not greeted with more grandiose columns but instead great, gold adorned statues, almost equal to the columns in size. These were fashioned artisanally in the likeness of the gods and then mounted on equally resplendent barques. There was a spattering of bleating priests in the room but they were far too busy with their final preparations to notice me. I hurried forwards to these mightily ornamental podium like structures and ran a trembling hand over the intricate carvings. When I tried to lift my fingers off the surface, they were met with some kind of invisible resistance which pulled gently at my fingertips. I was about to give into it when there was a sudden upsoar in the halls ambience hinting the commencement of the procession. I had no choice but to climb up onto the barque and find refuge in the all-consuming shadow of the great statue. I had only just settled myself when I was almost unseated as the barque beneath me was set out onto a sea of great rolling shoulders. By the time I had regained a shaky imitation of balance, we had left the temple and I was part of the parade.

Once outside I was assaulted by a cacophony of music and cheering from the crowd which had, until then, been soaked up by the ancient quiet in the temple compound. I looked around, we were now passing under the eyes of the crowd. Fortunately, I heard no shouts of dismay at my being there, clearly those watching were so joyfully intoxicated by the spectacle at hand that their discernment failed them. I shut my eyes for a moment and allowed myself to believe that the crowds were there for me. I spread-wide my arms and lifted my face to the sky as showers of enthusiastic, albeit misplaced, appreciation washed over me. Still bathing in my newfound power, I drunkenly opened my eyes to gauge our position. To my left was the avenue of sphinxes, the great stone carved guardians sat imperiously in rows. As we paraded past them, I thought I imagined a flash of reproval in their eyes as the sunlight animated their figures. This caused the very last drops of delighted triumph to dry up and without further thought, I leapt downwards from the barque and ran, still miraculously unnoticed, to join the crowd.

I did not return home until much later, behind me, the festival anthems still blazed though it had lost its pull. The absence of the noise meant I could now hear the previously concealed sound of my whining bones which strained under the weight of the days exertions. Still, I would drag myself home if I had to. Once through the door, I rushed to my father’s bedside, his eyes were shut tight but he clasped my hand with his own and gave it a weak but comforting squeeze. This was the only part of his body that still belonged to his mind. I took this as an invitation to begin. I told him about my day, start to finish, with all the wonderful things I had seen, every last detail, from the hall of columns to the whispering lake to my being part of the great procession, with only a few minor embellishments of course. And when I was done, without opening his eyes, he let out a great satisfied sigh and rolled over for a final time, slipping into dreams populated with lotus flowers and acrobats from which he would never wake. His arms retracted child-like to his chest, letting go of my hand and taking with his withdrawn touch, my final gift, the glorious account of his favourite time of the year.