The next day we went to explore the temple ruins. I say ruin, in the literal meaning of the word. These ruins are REAL ruins. It’s not like Karnak or Abydos or one of the well-known temples, so carefully uncovered and put back together again. No, no, these are real actual ruins, consisting of large stones tumbled one on top of the other covered in sand and some kind of crust. The temple of Amun that is. The Oracle temple is marginally better preserved because it was a site repurposed in more recent times, plus it’s on higher ground.
I don’t know what that crust business is all about but I did break through it and try to dig a bit when I thought no one was looking.
Very illegal behaviour.
I had this momentary fantasy that perhaps I might find a hole into a chamber, through which we could explore the untouched temple buried beneath. That would have been immensely cool.
Sadly, I did not. And Hakim gently reminded me that whatever is buried will also, likely, be full of sand.
Good point. Unless somehow a section remained sealed and only recently caved in. A one in a million chance, but – so, you’re telling me there’s a chance!
Both sites, the temple of Amun and the temple of the Oracle, are not too far away from where we are staying, which makes for easy getting around. And seeing as Khalid, our devoted local guide, had a tendency to always be late to pick us up, proximity to sites worked in all our favour.
Although there is some distance between the two temples, it does seem as if they were connected. Underneath the sand and palm trees it is quite possible that the temple complex actually extended from the sacred mountain all the way to the oracle temple, with the temple of Amun in between. What treasures are hidden there?
We were presented to the two places as if they were separate sites, likely connected but one is the Oracle temple and the other, the temple of Amun. However, a quick google search reveals that the Oracle temple is actually called the temple of Amun-Ra so, the two must be one complex and my separation of them erroneous. This point could also have been lost in translation.
“If we find certain rocks, like white calcite, then it is possible the site is way older,” Hakim told us on our way over.
We all get excited about the ancient ancient sites. It is these relics that I feel the most strongly, wherever they are in the world. These that seem to hold a powerful resonance. These, whose mystery is the most tantalizing.
This part of the temple of Amun is not a huge site and all that remains visible are a few tumbled blocks with some engravings on them, the top floor of part of the temple complex. Underneath what is now sand and, in some parts, palm trees, the temple lies buried. Sleeping but not dead. Still singing with the stars.
There is little to see here and yet it was one of the most exciting sites to visit because of the freedom to explore. It’s not fenced in. There are no security cameras. There isn’t even a proper entrance. It’s just there, amongst the palm trees and sandy roads.
Khalid pulled his van up to a stop outside a crumbling sign, in a haze of billowing dust. Everything in Siwa is covered in a thin layer of dust. I wonder how living here would affect the respiratory system. The locals all seem rather robust so it can’t be that bad.
We scrambled out of the van eagerly and over to the base of the large pieces of tumbled, cut stone.
I don’t know what came over me but I was suddenly filled with this child-like excitement for discovery. A surge of energy filled me. I wanted to climb - and run - and crawl through dirt.
I looked down at the black dress I was wearing.
Whose bright idea was that?
I had somehow thought I would wear my beautiful, mysterious, black gallabiyah in tribute to visiting the temples. Some form of ritual honouring. But now, looking down at it, all I can think of is how utterly absurd to be in a dress. How am I going to climb and crawl in this? It’s going to get filthy.
The sand was hot and slippery and I kept sliding in my flip flops as I tried to climb the small embankment up to the remaining stones on top. Dusty sand already covered my feet up to the ankles.
Sod it, I thought.
Kicking my flip flops off, I hoisted my dress up a few inches by tucking fabric into my knickers and ran off.
I wanted to woop and howl and jump from rock to rock but, not only could that potentially be dangerous as rocks can shift but it would also be highly undignified. Being unfamiliar with the local customs, I didn’t want to offend anyone. Instead, I practised controlled stealth moves. Parkouring more enthusiastically when no one was watching.
I let my energy take me where it wanted to go, leaving the others to their meanderings, mapping the place with my body and letting myself absorb information. After exploring some of the lower areas to the east of the site I was drawn over to the last standing section of wall, next to some fallen pillars.
Climbing over fallen stone you can get right to the fallen pillars and the base of the wall. This would have been the top floor of this part of the temple complex. Faint hieroglyphs are still visible but most has been lost to erosion.
The pillars are large, a few metres long at least and thick. The bottom side, protected from the elements has carvings. My fingers trace the carvings that I can reach, trying with my eyes and sense of touch to make sense of them.
Is that a bird?
I can’t quite see. I’m going to have to lie on the sand as far under the stone as I can get to have a proper look. I look around. A tourist is arriving down below but for now no one is nearby. Taking the opportunity, I lie down in the sand and get as far under as I can. From there I can see the wings of the bird take shape. Its body. There’s his head. Are those feet? I wonder if the other pillar has the same.
“Vanessa! Come see!” mum shouts over from down below, “we’ve found something!”
As quick as a snake I dart up and shoot over the rocks, jumping and running over to where she is standing with Hakim. Sand billowing behind me in little clouds as I ran. What have they found?
By this point I am covered in dusty sand up to my knees, have dust smears along one side of my dress and my hair resembles a nest. But no one bats an eyelid.
“It’s white calcite,” said hakim excitedly, “Michelle found it, she called me over.”
He ran his hands over the large chunks of white stone.
“Feel this, feel how smooth it is,” he said indicating the smooth side of a huge broken chunk. And, when I say large, I mean large. These are hefty chunks of stone. And a stone that doesn’t look like it’s the easiest to work with either. The outsides are cut and smoothed but where the stone has chipped away, the inside is a swirl of what resembles shells. Where did they come from? I know nothing about stones and lament this gaping lack in my knowledge. This is something I am going to have to remedy.
“So, this means there could have been an older site here?” Michelle asks.
“Could have been – could have been,” he nods.
I drift away, interested by the sacred mountain a little way in the distance. I call it the scared mountain but it doesn't appear to have anything special about it. If it does, the locals keep it quiet.
Looking over behind me, the towers of the temple of the Oracle rise. We are in alignment with the mountain. The mountain, here and temple of the oracle all line up. I wonder if there is something to that. There is definitely something special about this mountain. And something about the alignment of the key sites. But what is it? And what is the orientation? Where is east?
I look at the position of the sun (almost above us) and guestimate a range for its trajectory. It’s easy to lose sense of the sun when you don’t know the landmarks and the sun is above you. Earth and sky, always dancing. The guard confirmed my estimation, however, which means the mountain lies on the furthest edge of the rising of the sun’s track. So, at one of the solstices it rises by the mountain before beginning the journey back.
This is only a rough estimate. I would have to observe it myself and look at maps. Maps. We need a map to pinpoint all the landmarks and look for the pattern. There has to be a pattern.
I turn around looking for clues, a sense of how things align but we are too low and surrounded by palm trees to see far and I know that all the juicy stuff is tantalizingly buried under this sandy crust. We need to get higher. And we need maps. I am all pumped for a full-blown Indiana Jones style investigation here.
“Yallabina?!” Hakim shouted over, waving his arms.
It was hot and by this point we had been here for some time, so we all readily agreed. Poor Corina, huddling in the only scrap of shade under the remains of the temple, was stoically enduring the heat.
“It’s strange,” said Michelle curiously, “we have been in the sun some time now and it is hot yet I don’t feel burned. In Tortola I would be really burned by now.”
Strangely I didn’t feel burned either. My skin was hot and I had been in the blazing sun for over an hour and I wasn’t burned. What is it about this sun? What is it about this place full stop?! I’ve never felt anywhere quite like it.
I can’t quite place the energy either. My mind doesn’t understand it yet. But it feels like a primordial energy. A hidden point of source energy ready to burst forth. My mind can't quite believe what I'm about to say but it almost feels as if it is the source, the birthplace of waters, of oceans. The eye of the creator, within the body of the earth.
Whatever it is, I’m hooked.
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