15 - 21 November 2001
Issue No.560
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 15 - 21 November 2001 Issue No.560 |
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The man who found the Sun Boat
Kamal El-Mallakh was a truly remarkable man. When he died 14 years ago, Egypt lost one of its most beloved sons. His appearance -- he resembled a Pharaoh, tall and upright, with a high forehead and a receding hairline -- made him stand out on Cairo's crowded streets. Egyptology bestowed instant fame on him early in his career. In 1954, while working as the architect for the then Antiquities Department at Giza, he was clearing the area adjacent to the Great Pyramid when he chanced upon the so-called Solar Boat -- the funerary barge of the Pharaoh Khufu. He should, of course, have gained full credit for the unquestionably great discovery, but because -- well, probably because -- he was an architect for the department rather than an archaeologist, he failed to receive his due. And that was when the trouble started.
No doubt as a result of El-Mallakh's natural charisma, combined with his pride in his achievement, he received much publicity in the foreign press, but this led to jealousy on the home front. Did I not say in an earlier column that the evil power of the god Seth is ever amongst us? Well, things became so difficult for El-Mallakh in the Antiquities Department that he was forced to leave.
Fortunately, he was not the kind of person to harbour grievances. He turned his attention to the field of journalism and became a reporter for Akher Saa magazine and Al-Akhbar newspaper. At this point he became a close friend of the famous writer Anis Mansour, and together they developed a warm fellowship and shared many adventures. How I enjoyed reading these in Mansour's weekly Friday column, Ayamna Al-Helwa ("our good days"), in Al-Ahram.
The two men, Kamal El-Mallakh and Anis Mansour, were the antithesis of one another. The former led an active social life and published little; the latter was not socially inclined -- he considered taking to people a waste of time -- and published more than 200 books. They were friends and rivals; they competed with each other but were, in a sense, as inseparable as twins. Mansour, a Muslim, and El-Mallakh, a Copt, forever teased one another and entered into intellectual arguments. Their special friendship will never be forgotten.
When El-Mallakh joined Al-Ahram daily newspaper and became the editor of its back page, he made it his own. Writing in an appealing style that became exclusively his, he was read by everyone. The headline was in his own handwriting, and his page became so popular that a large body of Al-Ahram readers began their day by reading the paper from the back.
We could not wait to see what he wrote each day. He had imagination, talent, and an enormous interest in his own country, in Egypt's heritage -- especially Egyptology. In those days not much was written on the subject, and he described discoveries in a simple, unjargonistic language that everyone could understand. Because of him, Egyptians came to develop increased interest in the lives of the ancient Egyptians and in culture generally. He was a virtual encyclopaedia of knowledge: in art, cinema and theatre. He pursued knowledge with the interest and enthusiasm which had earned him an undergraduate degree in architecture and his graduate study in Egyptology. Thanks to him, we have international film festivals in Cairo and Alexandria; and owing to his efforts a biennial world competition was launched in Alexandria, as well as the African film festival in Aswan.
As a young man, I looked up to Kamal El-Mallakh. I enjoyed listening to his short after-breakfast interviews on the radio during Ramadan. With his distinguished style and unique voice, he touched our hearts and showed us that we were descendants of the Pharaohs. I met him at Giza, when I was a young inspector of antiquities in the Pyramids area and he was on one of his frequent visits to his "baby, the Solar Boat." (El- Mallakh never married. His relationship to his boat, however, was as a lioness protecting her cub.)
I was very excited to meet him this almost legendary figure. I could hardly believe that I was actually talking to the great Kamal El-Mallakh and shaking his hand. He greeted me with a big smile, and when he saw my enthusiasm and love of Egyptology he ventured that I might some day make a name for myself in the field. He adopted me as a son and friend, gave me valuable advice, and encouraged me to document my work when I started excavating at Kom Abu Bellou in the Delta. He used to call me "the youthful archaeologist," and I would visit him at his office at Al-Ahram every Friday. I remember the occasion when, as he was talking to me, a famous actress walked into the room. Anyone else might have jumped up to welcome her, but not El-Mallakh. He merely said, "Please come back in half an hour, I am now sitting with Zahi Hawass." I could not believe my ears! From him I learned how to inspire and encourage young people interested in the field and to support their work.
While I was studying at the University of Pennsylvania I went to see El-Mallakh on one of my visits to Egypt, and he invited me to have lunch with him at Anis Mansour's house at Shabramant in Giza. There I met, as well as Anis Mansour, other important personalities including Tawfik El-Hakim. The video camera had just been invented, and El-Hakim was quite taken with it, happy to watch images of himself. He wanted to test his appearance: how he looked from one angle or another, and which was the most flattering. I remember how he would wiggle his mustache to see if it was noticeable on TV.
Once I borrowed Ezzat El-Saadani's car and went for a drive with El-Mallakh, but we ran out of gas. As El-Mallakh helped me push the car to the side of the road, he was recognised by passers-by, who could hardly believe that so important a man would stoop to such a chore! He had such charm and modesty and introduced me to so many influential people, including Gamal Mokhtar. I would listen to their discussions for hours on end.
Towards the end of El-Mallakh's life, the Antiquities Department gave permission for National Geographic to investigate the second boat pit at Giza, and he was upset not to be included on the team. He fought for his rights, but to no avail. He used to go to bed early, and one night he called me at 9pm and talked about the slight for two hours, his voice reflecting a great sadness. I left Egypt for the United States the following day to attend the opening of the Ramses II exhibition in Denver. Imagine my shock when I was awakened one morning by a telephone call from Dorothea, the wife of his brother Ragaa, who said: "El-Mallakh is dead!" I cried for two hours; my sorrow even greater than on the death of my own father. When I returned to Cairo and met the noted columnist Salama Ahmed Salama, we agreed that Kamal El-Mallakh was the fourth pyramid of Egypt.
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