Traditionally, seventy days after death the burial took place, and in the Theban tomb of Djehuty (TT110) it states, ‘a goodly burial arrives in peace, your seventy days have been fulfilled in your place of embalming.’38 However, there were instances when the burial process took more or less time. A statue in Cairo (JE 86125), belonging to Ankhefenamun, states, ‘He was placed in the Pure Place under the hands of Anubis … and he completed seventy two days in the House of Perfection.’39 The fourth-dynasty queen Meresankh III was buried as many as 272 days after her death. Another inscription, belonging to a Ptolemaic high priest of Memphis, the son of Taimhotep discussed in chapter four, states he was buried 200 days after his death. Conversely, in the absentee records of Deir el-Medina, sometimes there was only a matter of a few days between death and burial.
The reasons for such extended delay are unrecorded, although political instability may have been an important factor. The reason for quicker burials, however, is perhaps clearer. Not all bodies were fully embalmed, even those from Deir el-Medina. Some, like Kha and Merit were preserved by submerging them in a salt solution, meaning their brains and internal organs were not removed. Then the bodies were simply wrapped in linen.40
Such quicker options of mummification may have been down to cost, and cheaper processes became available in the Middle Kingdom when mummification for non-royals became popular. It did not involve the removal of the internal organs. Instead a mixture of cedar oil and turpentine was injected into the body through the anus, which was stopped up to prevent the liquid escaping. The body was then packed in natron for forty days. After forty days the dissolved organs were drained out through the anus. Some mummies have blocked rectums where the organs have not dissolved fully.
In 1999 Salima Ikram carried out mummification experiments on rabbits, fish and ducks to investigate which technique was most effective. Two of the rabbits were not eviscerated, and one exploded during the first evening. The second one had its torso pierced, but due to bloating and the head exploding was also discarded. Two rabbits were eviscerated and placed in natron to dry out, and successful mummies were created. The fifth rabbit was not eviscerated and instead 168 ml of turpentine was injected into its anus. On the seventh day the liquid was drained out, taking the partially dissolved organs with it, in the same manner as the ancient human mummies. The heart had not dissolved, although it had become detached and was moving around. However, of the five rabbits this process produced the best mummy with the fluffiest fur.41
Once the embalmers had drained the organs out of the body as best they could, the body was then washed and prepared for wrapping. The cheapest option meant the body was returned unwrapped to the family. Evidence suggests that once the mummies were returned to the family they were not always buried straight away and remained in the family home for some time until the family tomb was opened, either annually or bi-annually.
If the tomb scenes are to be believed, funerals were big events with a long procession, comprising servants carrying goods to go into the tomb, the coffin drawn on an ox-drawn sled, professional mourners wailing and throwing dirt over themselves and the family walking serenely at the back. The longer the procession of goods and the louder the mourners, the more impressive the funeral was considered. Mourners modelled themselves on the divine mourners Isis and Nephthys, who in mythology cried over the body of Osiris. Public displays of emotion were not favoured by the scribal elite and their families, so, although they were no doubt upset at the death of a relative, they hired professional mourners if they could afford them (see chapter six). However, there are rare scenes of the family women in stages of grief. In the eighteenth-dynasty tomb of Renni at El Kab, his three daughters are shown in the throes of grief. One daughter cries, ‘Where are you going my father?’ and his wife cries, ‘Where should I go, oh my master for eternity.’ His wife even sings a public lament: ‘I am your sister Meritre, oh great one, do not leave Meritre … going away, how can you do it to me? I go alone and look I am behind you. You who loved to speak with me, you are [now] silent and you do not speak.’42
On the Papyrus of Ani his wife is depicted kneeling by his coffin exposing her breasts in grief. These images of non-professional mourners are rare in tombs, but that is not to say that there were no mourning rituals to be carried out by the general populous. For the most part the records are quiet about these rituals as well, although Diodorus Siculus (I 91.1-2), writing in 60–30 BCE, states,
Whenever anyone dies among them, all the family and friends cover their heads with mud and go about town making lamentation, until it is the time for the body to be treated. Furthermore, during this time they allow themselves, neither baths, wine or any expensive foods, not do they wear brightly coloured clothing.43
This matches earlier evidence too and indicates such practices of non-adornment and not shaving, which were a long-held tradition in Egypt. In the Ptolemaic Period, after a funeral of a fellow funerary priest, his colleagues would drink for two days in the House of Perfection.44
A good funeral was essential in ensuring the deceased entered the afterlife. The non-royal population entered the Field of Reeds, the Egyptian equivalent of heaven for eternity, doing whatever they wanted to do with no restrictions of health or wealth. The king, on the other hand, joined the sun god upon his solar barque and travelled the underworld for twelve hours until he was reborn at dawn. This nocturnal environment was hostile, filled with demons and enemies, whose sole purpose was to destroy the solar barque and prevent the sun (and therefore the king) from being reborn in the morning.
An essential element of the burial was a tomb within which to place the body and the funerary goods. In the New Kingdom it was common to have a rock-cut tomb with the burial chamber deep underground. There was a chapel above this subterranean chamber, where the relatives performed the appropriate rituals. It is the tomb chapels of these elite tombs which are elaborately decorated. These images are multifunctional as not only are they aesthetically pleasing but they also held a ritual significance. A false door was a common decorative element in New Kingdom tombs, enabling the ka of the deceased to enter and leave the tomb at will. Often these false doors are surrounded with images of servants or relatives bringing food offerings to sustain the ka for eternity.
The fishing and fowling scenes (see chapter two) are also vital for the rebirth of the deceased into the afterlife. The scenes show the tomb owner twice, standing on a papyrus skiff in the marshes surrounded by his wife and children: one side of the scene shows him fowling, whereby he scares the birds out of the marshes and throws a curved stick at them; on the other side of the scene the tomb owner is shown fishing. He has a long spear which has skewered two fish, one of which is the fish reputed to have swallowed the penis of Osiris and is considered a fish of great fertility. It was considered taboo to actually eat one of these in life, but in death it was acceptable to catch them as it emphasised the fertility of the deceased tomb owner. The tomb owner was always depicted as a virile young man in the midst of activity, regardless of his age and health at death. The marshes represent the marshes of creation and therefore the beginning of all life, and as he was accompanied by his children and his wife they ensure the deceased was still able to procreate in the afterlife.
Reaching the afterlife was difficult for everyone and relied on the unification of the six elements of the human psyche; if one of them failed the afterlife was unobtainable. The six elements comprised,
The physical body, which was preserved through the process of mummification.
The name, which was repeated in prayers and offerings after death. One of the conspirators in the Harem Conspiracy of Ramses III had his name changed from Mersure (Re-Loves-Him) to Mesedsure (Re-Hates-Him), meaning his true name would be forgotten and he would have no afterlife.45
The shadow, which was a spiritual element indicative of the presence and protection of the sun.
The ba was the personality of the deceased and was represented as a bird with a human face
. This element only appears after death and can travel away from the body.
The ka was the life force, memory and physical representations of the deceased46 and was the element that needed to be nourished with food offerings. This is present throughout the deceased’s entire life and death was often described as ‘joining your ka’.
The akh (spirit) was formed once the ba and ka had reunited. This spirit was powerful and was almost divine in nature.
The unification of these six elements was facilitated by the Opening of the Mouth ceremony, during which the oldest son of the deceased held an adze to the mouth of the mummy, enabling them to speak, hear and smell. This was accompanied by a recitation of chapter twenty-three of the Book of the Dead;
My mouth is opened by Ptah and what was on my mouth has been loosened by my local god. Thoth comes indeed, filled and equipped with magic, and the bonds of Seth which restricted my mouth have been loosened. Atum has warded them off and cast away the restrictions of Seth … My mouth is open, my mouth is split open by Shu with that iron harpoon of his with which he split open the mouths of the gods. I am Sekhmet, and I sit beside Her who is in the great wind of the sky; I am Orion the Great who dwells with the Souls of Heliopolis … As for any magic spell or any words which may be uttered against me, the gods will rise up against it, even the entire Ennead.47
There were a number of birthing rituals which were repeated at a funeral in order to aid rebirth, as the two were considered to be intrinsically linked. For example, two instruments used in the funerary rituals were the peshef kaf and ntjrwy blades, which represent the little finger used by the midwife to clear the mouth of the baby. In the Opening of the Mouth ceremony two jars were included, one full and one empty, called the Breasts of Horus and Isis, in addition to hard and soft food perhaps reflecting breastfeeding and weaning.48
On the interior of some Middle Kingdom coffins, images of the pots and jars used in this Opening of the Mouth ritual were depicted in case it was not completed correctly. The ka could now enjoy the food and drink offerings and the deceased could hear, see and participate in temple rituals and enjoy everything they did in life. This naturally involved sex and a Middle Kingdom Coffin Text states, ‘Concerning every man who knows the formula, he will be able to copulate on this earth at night and by day, and the hearts of women will come to him at any time he desires.’49 Women, however, were not guaranteed numerous sexual partners in the afterlife and on female coffins the name of her husband was added so he could aid her with rebirth by begetting her and he could also help her form a healthy union in the afterlife with his spiritual self.50
After the Opening of the Mouth ceremony had been carried out and the body had spiritually been reanimated, the deceased was now ready to endure the final test before entering the afterlife. This was the Weighing of the Heart ceremony in the Hall of Judgement, where the deceased stood before Osiris, the god of the underworld, to witness his heart being weighed against Maat, the feather of truth. If the heart was heavier it was devoured by the monster Ammit, waiting nearby. Rather than leaving this to chance the deceased recited the Negative Confession, chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead, telling the gods of the underworld the things he/she had not done;
I have done no falsehood
I have not robbed
I have not been rapacious
I have not stolen
I have not killed men
I have not destroyed food supplies51
If anything was missed from this list the Egyptians placed an amulet called a heart scarab over the heart, with chapter 30b from the Book of the Dead encouraging the scarab not to betray the sins still present in the heart.
Do not stand up as a witness against me, do not be opposed to me in the tribunal, do not be hostile to me in the presence of the Keeper of the Balance, for you are my ka which was in my body, the protector who made my members hale. Go forth to the happy place whereto we speed; do not make any name stink to the Entourage who made men.52
If the heart weighed the same as the feather of truth, the deceased was reborn and could enter the Field of Reeds for eternity. However, it was essential that offerings of food and drink were continually made and the deceased’s name was repeated. If family members were unable to carry out the rituals, or were not wealthy enough to pay for a funerary priest to carry out the rituals on their behalf, the deceased needed to rely on the kindness of passing strangers.53 Many tombs, therefore, have an inscription encouraging passers-by to recite the inhabitant’s name, enabling them to live for eternity; ‘Oh, you who live and exist, who like life and hate death, whosoever shall pass by this tomb, as you love life and hate death so you offer to me what is in your hands’.54 (Middle Kingdom stela from Abydos.)
Sometimes this tradition was combined with a request from the living relative to the deceased to help with some personal problem. As discussed in chapter three, the deceased were thought to transform into an Akh ikr n re, or Excellent Spirit of Ra, which gave them powers over the living and the dead. Therefore family members wrote letters to the dead, often on a bowl, which was then filled with food as an offering. Only twenty of these letters have survived into the archaeological record, but they provide tantalising insights into the thought and grief processes of an ancient Egyptian. One letter outlines all the things the man will do for his deceased wife if she cures him of an illness which he has contracted since her death: ‘I shall lay down offerings for you when the sun’s light has risen and I shall establish an altar for you.’55
Another letter (nineteenth dynasty), written on papyrus rather than a bowl, was attached to a painted wooden statue of the addressee, his late wife Ankhiry. The letter itself was written in a rushed manner, indicative of the stress the man was under.
To the able spirit Ankhiry. What evil have I done to you that I should land in this wretched state in which I am? What have I done to you? What you have done is to lay your hands on me, although I have done you no wrong. What have I done to you since I lived with you as your husband, until that day [of your death], that I must hide it? What is there now? What you have attained is that I must bring forward this accusation against you. What have I done to you? I will lodge a complaint against you with the Ennead in the West [the divine law-court in the hereafter], and one shall judge between you and me on account of this letter ... What have I done to you? I made you my wife when I was a young man. I was with you when I held all kinds of offices. I stayed with you, I did not send you away ... ‘She has always been with me’ I thought ... And see, now you do not even comfort me. I will be judged with you, and one shall discern truth from falsehood.
Look, when I was training the officers of the army of Pharaoh and his chariotry, I let them lie on their bellies before you. I never hid anything from you in all your life. I never let you suffer, but I always behaved to you as a gentleman. You never found that I was rude to you, as when a peasant enters someone else’s house. I never behaved so that a man could rebuke me for anything I did to you ...
I am sending this letter to let you know what you are doing. When you began to suffer from the disease you had, I let a head physician come and he treated you and did everything you asked him to do. When I followed Pharaoh, travelling to the south and this condition came to you [that is, you died] I spent no less than eight months without eating and drinking as a man should do. And as soon as I reached Memphis, I asked from Pharaoh leave and went to the place that you were, and I cried intensely, together with my people, before the eyes of my entire neighbourhood. I donated fine linen for wrapping you up, I let many clothes be made, and omitted nothing good to be done for you. And see, I passed three years until now living alone, without entering any house [i.e. remarrying], although it is not fair that someone like me should be made to do so. But I did it for you, you who does not discern good from bad. One shall judge between you and me. And then: the sisters in the house, I have not entered anyone of them.
The last line seems to have been written as an afterthought as it does not
flow with the rest of the letter,56 and yet it could be his guilt at his activities with these sisters that instigated the letter in the first place.
Another important ritual that needed to be repeated to maintain the ka was the pouring of libations, in particular water, in order to keep the deceased nourished in the afterlife as well as purifying them. The ‘Instructions of Ani’ emphasise the importance of this: ‘Libate for your father and mother who are resting in the desert valley. When the god’s witness your actions, they will say “accepted”.’57 This was something expected of children for their parents and in the absentee record from Deir el-Medina some workmen took up to three days off to libate for their father, brother or son, although never a female relative. Whether this ritual was performed in the home or at the tomb is unknown, although there is evidence that it was performed soon after the death.
All of these expectations of food and libations were part of the elaborate cult of the ka, which was the means by which the ka was kept alive for eternity and therefore the deceased was able to be reborn successfully into the afterlife. If the cult of the ka was not maintained then the deceased died a second and more permanent death.
Despite all these elaborate rituals and processes associated with the afterlife, the ancient Egyptians, like many modern people, did not truly understand what happened after death. They feared rather than welcomed death and in the ‘Dialogue of a Man with his Ba’ death is described: ‘If you think of burial, it is agony, it is the bringing of tears through making a man miserable, it is taking a man from his house, being cast upon the high ground. You shall not come up again to see suns.’58
Such uncertain ideas are further expressed in the harpist’s songs, which were presented in numerous tombs. An example from the chapel of King Intef tells the living to make merry while alive as it is not possible to take your possessions with you.
Lost Voices of the Nile: Everyday Life in Ancient Egypt Page 24
