I have three goals in Africa. I want to climb the Cheops Pyramid, stand on top of Mount Kilimanjaro and spit in the ocean at Cape of Good Hope. Today I plan to reach my first goal. Only a short bus trip from Midan al Tahrir in the City separates me from it.
Pancake bar at Midan al Tahrir
Coffee bar for poor tramps
Bus number eight to Giza arrives but does not stop completely. No one waits for people to get out. Climbing into a bus during morning rush hour in Cairo is a battle for survival. I have watched a rugby game final on TV and remember how the players formed a scrum. So I decide to be the ball. I do not manage to get into the first bus. But when the next bus arrives I jump between the opposing parties, hold on to my camera bag with the left arm and protect my face with the right arm. The people behind me push me into the crowd who want to get off. My mountain boots step on feet wearing only plastic sandals. Somehow I end up on the platform in the back under which the motor sits. I pull up my legs and feel safe. Outside the window behind me are the faces of fellows who hang on the back of the bus, the fingers on the window frame and the feet on the bumper bar. It feels like travelling in a can of sardines.
The trip to Giza takes half an hour. In the meantime I smell garlic around me, pull up my collar when next to me someone coughs and spits, watch a mother in the open door holding on to the door frame with one hand and suckling her baby with the other while the bus races through clouds of dust. Some pervert in his nightgown-like Jelabia rubs his prick against the shoulder of a little girl until his gaze disappears in Nirvana. When he gets off the bus the girl has two tears in her eyes. But maybe I am the only one who has seen it. At one stage the arm of the conductor appears above the heads. I show him a Pound note which he can't change. He lets me travel for free. Will I ever love this country?
Public transport in Fayoum Oasis
At the end station I jump off the bus - streight into the arms of tour guides, camel riders, money changers and souvenir vendors. I practice my recently learned words of Arabic: "Mafish fluss, ana meskeen, jalla imshi!" (No money. I am poor. Quick, piss off!) It works. I sound like a local.
The Cheops Pyramid is nearby. I imagined it would be higher. But with its 136 m (originally 146 m) it equals the height of the "Funkturm" (Radio Tower) in Berlin. And the massive pile of carefully sorted rocks is certainly impressive. In order to show my respect for the Pharaos I decide to climb the Pyramid. That is not easy. I have been told that the last traveller who fell down was an Australian. So don't try it at home!
From a safe distance I study the rocks through my binoculars. They are covered with the sand of thousands of years of desert storms. At one of the northern corners of the Pyramid the sand has been wiped off to make the climb possible for tourists. A signboard clearly indicates that "Climbing is forbidden without a guide." There also is a charge of 25 Piasters, too much for me. And I like to stay up there as long as I like. I don't know if one gets arrested for climbing alone. But I would not mind a night in jail for this adventure.
At the bottom of the Pyramid the rocks are often shoulder high. Further up they get smaller and may only be knee high. The space on each rock is no more than 50 cm, not much to stop a fall. And there is no hand rail. It takes some patience to wait until the police nearby go into their office and the tour guides argue with some tourists. By the time they notice me and call for the cops I am already 20 m up and can afford to wave at them and give them a friendly smile.
The arms hold on to a higher rock while the knees do the climbing. At first it is fun. Due to the angle of the slope the distance to be covered is about 200 m. I often sit down and look back in order to get used to the height. An American grandpa tries to catch up with me but gives up, maybe gets dizzy. After twenty minutes I reach the top. Experienced guides do it in six minutes. Originally some Pyramids were covered with a layer of polished stone. It must have been an absolutely magnificent sight when the sun shone on it. Those stone slabs have long ago been used for building purposes. The rocks at the top of Cheops have also been removed creating a small platform with a wooden pole marking the original height. The platform is completely covered with the names of previous climbers who have chiseled their names into the stone.
Standing there fills me with awe and makes me sit down. I imagine that the thousands of years on which I stand are metres and suddenly feel much closer to God. Am I not on the largest altar mankind has ever built for the Gods? Maybe one day a man will land on the Moon and thereby continue the dream of the Pharaos!
Down at the bottom of the Pyramid the people look very small. From the west the evening sun shines across the Libyan Desert, a seemingly unending sea of sand and stone, and drowns the Mukattam Mountains and Cairo in the east in a hue of golden light. In between from north to south is a wide stretch of green fringing the Nile on its never ending flow to the Mediterranean Sea. The Pharaos built the Pyramids at the edge of the desert like a symbol of the struggle against death. They had their bodies embalmed and took all their worldly possessions with them into the grave. They managed to obtain a certain popularity in this world even after thousands of years. But in the underworld their traces are lost.
Giza in background, Sphinx on the right
While I am day dreaming a storm pushes black clouds across the Delta and rips the rain from them. That happens only four or five times a year. I squat behind a rock and enjoy the drenching. However, the rain makes the rocks and the sand on them slippery. Soon it will be dark. It is time to return to Earth. As I look down I suddenly have a sick feeling in the stomach and for a minute have to fight a panic attack. But then I take my boots and socks off, hang them around my neck and start gliding carefully from rock to rock on my wet behind making sure my feet rest safely on the next stone. The wind is still blowing and helps to dry the surfaces. Closer to the bottom of the Pyramid I start jumping from rock to rock cheered on by a crowd of school children. They surround me as if I am a film star. Their teacher hits them with his fists to make room for me.
A dragoman on his camel blocks my way and wants to sell me a ride to the bus stop. When I refuse he pulls my hair. I quickly grab his foot and try to twist him from the saddle. The camel jumps aside and saves the situation.
Nearby sits my Canadian mate Karl, smokes his pipe and welcomes me with a big grin on his face. I was hoping to write my Christmas cards on top of the Pyramid and forgot the ballpoint pen. So we decide to return to Giza another day.
Slippery rocks Climbing corner and police station
Giza, 16.December
Karl and I take an early bus to Giza. Before climbing the Pyramid we explore the inside. That costs five Piasters. We pretend to belong to a group of American tourists. It saves us the bakshish for the guided tour. But the guide is suspicious because we don't want to have our photos taken sitting on a camel with an Egyptian head gear. He turns away when we exclaim repeatedly: "OK" and "Isn't it nice!"
The entrance is in the middle of the Pyramid, not far from the ground. This time there is a hand rail. We enter the gate to the underworld. The tunnel is narrow and low. There is little air for breathing. We immediately start sweating.
Sorry, I have to return to the German text for a while. It is hard to translate the rhymes.
"Vor mir in dem Blondgesicht zerfliessen Rouge und Puderschicht. Es geht bergab und dann bergauf - zur Königinkammer im Entenlauf. Der Führer spricht. Die Menge lauscht und ist vom Schweißgeruch berauscht. Sodann auf einer Hühnerleiter geht es zur Königskammer weiter. Man schiebt sich hoch, man schnauft und stöhnt. Man ist des Kletterns ganz entwöhnt. Jetzt wird es eng. Jetzt wird es flach. Die Menge drückt von hinten nach. Und wo zwei Steine stehn hervor stößt mancher sich noch Kopf und Ohr. Und so mit manchem "Weh" und "Ach" folgt man dem Fremdenführer nach. Der Raum ist weit. Der Raum ist groß. "Mein Gott, wo sitzt der Büstenhalter bloß?" Aus schwarzem Stein sind Wand und roof. "Ach wäre man doch waterproof!" Man schwitzt und lehnt sich an den Sakophag. Ob hier der Pharao einst lag? Da zucken Blitze kreuz und quer von einem Fotografenheer. "Look honey, auch der Großpapa stand mal an jener Stelle da!" - "Attention" ruft der Dragoman und strengt dann seine Stimme an. Die Stimme schallt. Das Echo rollt. "How nice!" sagt man ganz ungewollt. Und dann marschiert man heiter hinab again die Hühnerleiter. Ach wäre man doch endlich raus aus diesem heissen Affenhaus! Doch was kommt dort? Man kann es raten. Ein ganzer Trupp UN-Soldaten. Man stellt sich quer. Man macht sich dünn. Zum Ausgang kommt nun keiner hin. Das schiebt und schwitzt und drängt und lacht. Vor manchem Auge wird es Nacht. Ich weiß nicht wie es weiter ging und wie wir raus gekommen. Doch draussen hat der Dragoman von uns kein Geld bekommen."
Chefren Pyramid with the original stone cover
Platform of Cheops Pyramid
After some rest it is time to climb the Pyramid again. Karl does not trust his climbing skills and does not follow me. But he pretends to climb and saves me the escape from a whole lot of tour guides who rush at him instead. When they finally notice me climbing they leave me alone. Maybe they think: "Let that idiot kill himself!" I take my time and avoid any risk. The morning sun is beautiful and warm. I write my postcards on the platform of Cheops, play some German tunes on my mouth organ to honour the Pharaos, put my camera bag under my head and enjoy a sleep. Afterwards I study the surroundings with my binoculars. Nearby is the Chefren Pyramid. It has about the same height as Cheops, but appears a bit higher because it sits on a higher plateau. Unfortunately I can't play my mouth organ over there. The top of Chefren still has the original sand stone cover - too dangerous to climb. Last of this group of Pyramids is the step Pyramid of Mykerinos, maybe the oldest of them. It is only 62 m high and can't be climbed.
All over the place are graves, temples of the dead and small Pyramids for the relatives and government officials of the Pharaos. The mummies rested peacefully at the bottom of deep shafts until they were diturbed by grave robbers, archeologists and tourists. Far in the distance one can recognize the step Pyramids of Sakkara. The oldest of them was built about 2.600 BC - "the first large stone construction in the World."
And now let's have a look at the Sphinx...
