“I will be fine.” My throat emanated a final retch. I cautiously stood up to prevent another potential episode. To my advantage, the wind was sweeping from the west supplementing our nostrils with dry but fresh desert air. The valley of death was finally behind us. I dared not look back.
Men threw an arm around my shoulder and hauled me towards the advancing line. “Come boy, or they will leave us here rotting with the corpses.” We carried on in silence. No one uttered a word, not even a whisper. The only sound was of our scraping sandals against the stone and sand.
Before long our ears caught the distant chimes of hammered chisels. Their sharp tones issued a welcome to our arrival. Ahead, a small stone quarry gradually came into view and we collectively sighed in relief. It appeared as a large out of place gap in the valley, exposing layers of dust and rock crafted into symmetry, perhaps two or three men deep with the occasional awkward wooden scaffold hinging on an edge. The embankment on the western side of the quarry that bordered between the Nile valley and the great western desert we called a-deshret. To the far northern side, I could see a small marshy oasis with a handful of scattered shrubs surrounded by a harsh desert boundary.
There were about 100 men slaving hard in the heat and glare, all of them coated white in fine dust. They appeared like desert nomads or mythological stone creatures birthed from the womb of the terrain. This, as it seemed, was our bitter destiny.
“Beu, beu!” A strong saluting voice called out. Men dropped his supporting arm off me and I quickly managed to sustain my own weight, for any weakened souls would surely be sent on their own way. His name was Neshi, a prudent and watchful observer of workers who carefully assessed his newly arrived work stock like any other overseer would. He walked around us studying our physical state - after all he was responsible for the quality and quantity of work produced at the quarry. King Ahmose’s building project had strict demands and had to be satisfied flawlessly. It was necessary for Neshi and other overseers in similar quarries to produce the building materials on time otherwise demotion would be their ultimate fate.
Neshi had a reputation as a strict but reliable overseer and regularly produced above quota. He was a man in his late thirties or early forties, strong and well-fed. A dusty white kilt tied with a sash suspended under his potbelly while a striped headdress waved gently over his pleased complexion.
“I am content with what the gods have brought me today.” The acoustics between the rocks enhanced his gratified tone, sounding more like a satisfied slave merchant. “Tell me my friends, how many of you have worked with stone?” His eager eyes roamed avidly as four in numbers slowly stepped out from the line. “Tell me, how many of you have mined for stone?” The line of men diminished, only a few of us remained unqualified. Neshi strolled up to us, grinning. “Fear not my friends, there is enough work here for everyone. Someone has to carry the raw load.” He forced a laugh, slapped Men on his broad shoulder then carried on. My uncle was beginning to dislike his new superior but remained silent. “Stonecutters and stone workers, you will be given your tools. At the end of your working day, you will give them to me for appraisal. The wear on your tools will be deducted from your pay.” Neshi casually strolled between the separated group of workers, shining with excessive self-confidence. He continued his lecture. “You will rest when Ra is at his highest … and when Ra sets. Work hard and you will be rewarded.” Then his tone hardened like coarse stone. “Work not and you will find your dirty hide crawling back to where you came from.” The overseer gave a cynical smile before ending his noble announcement. “Respect my orders and there will be no quarrel between us!” He began his descent towards the quarry, waving his arm in the air. “Come!” As Neshi led the way we followed like a fretful flock of sheep following a shepherd.
“I have met his type before,” Men mumbled, sounding bothered. “Such are inspired by the voice of their own authority … unworthy of anything else other than ordering peasants to satisfy their every whim.” Men found it difficult to work under the clutches of such an ambitious fool, especially when he himself had held a similar rank not so long ago. He knew that honest, hard-working labour was achieved by the respect and goodwill of the overseer and not by pathetic gestures of intimidation. I too began to dislike Neshi for that. “Fear not Itef for we will not lay waste in this forsaken place.” His protest did not go unheard as I saw others before us acknowledge him with a few simple nods.
We came to a halt at the edge of the quarry pit. The chorus of copper chisels grew louder as men below us pounded them hard into the stone with mallets made of hardwood. The air in the trenches was thick with dust. It was unfortunate for those men who had to endure such atrocious conditions but the finest quality of limestone lay hidden in the depths of the rocky earth. It is said that those who spend much time labouring in such pits die young - their blood turns to sand and their breath gives in. It is also said that even their ba turns dusty white.
We saw the first group of men descend into the pit on narrow wooden ladders, their saddened faces slowly blurred away in the chalky mist while others were ordered to perform their duties near a rubble of crudely worked stone blocks. They came from the belly of the pit where the bloodied and bruised hands of quarrymen cut the unfinished stone formations. The refining was up to a new group of men who would spend their lives etching away coarse edges to create perfectly proportioned blocks for the king’s grand construction scheme. These jobs required a type of skill and discipline Men and I did not possess. We were plantation workers, not stone miners. Regardless we had to compromise; there was no other choice. I followed the footsteps of the remaining few in front of me. I looked up and stared ahead. Swarthy, fatigued faces blemished by dust and sand awaited. The scanty few had seemingly been slaving for Neshi for quite some time. Many of them had their hands bandaged in blood-stained strips of fabric torn from the kilts they wore. Neshi loomed in the background and began to dispatch his orders.
“Move your hides and show me your worthiness!” Men turned around and looked at him with hatred. Neshi appeared slightly surprised at this sudden and unexpected act. Hitherto no one had attempted to intimidate him. “Are you feeling ill my good man?” Neshi began to challenge Men with sarcasm.
“I shall live!” Men grunted, turning away. The overseer hovered over him with a grimace, displaying his reigning superiority.
He drove his face against my uncle’s ear and whispered cynically. “If you show intolerance towards me again I will make certain that you rot alive in those pits below you.” He stood back sneering with his arms crossed. Again Men attempted hard to ignore him by concentrating on the frayed rope that lay limp in the compacted dirt like a dormant serpent. Then a voice yelled from the pit and our hands sank to find a grip on the entangled reed cord. My eyes followed its length snaking over the edge … and then it tightened and we felt a tug. It was going to take a synchronised effort to haul the load up to our dusty feet. The slightest imbalance could have resulted in a tumbling catastrophe. A falling-block of such proportions would crush a human like an insect.
We stood hard, sturdy on our feet with our arms extended waiting for the final word.
“Sedjem-wi!” bellowed the foremost man in our line. The rope tightened as an unbearable weight hinged on its other end.
“Tiw!” We shouted back. Simultaneously our hands pulled with all our might. I could feel every limb of my tortured body, every muscle tearing. I gasped for air to maintain my strength. The rope heaved past my waist over and over again. Just as my weakened body was on the verge of shattering I heard a rocky grind beyond the edge of the plateau. The tension in my hand finally slackened and I exhaled my overexertion. The gruelling effort