Black Genesis: The Prehistoric Origins of Ancient Egypt

eassure us that all is not lost, after all.
We stopped for the night at Carlo Bergmann’s Djedefre Water Mountain. It was too dark to explore it when we
arrived, so we had to wait until dawn. As seen in chapters 2 and 4, we found solar solstice alignments, possibly
prehistoric, and hieroglyphic evidence that added to our designation of the place as a sun temple revived from prehistoric
times by expeditions under the reign of King Djedefre. After spending a few hours around sunrise inspecting the site and
its surroundings, we again set off southwest for another 100 kilometers (62 miles), which, in these difficult off-road
conditions, is the daily average distance that is reasonable to expect with heavily laden vehicles.
On the way we inspected more prehistoric rock art, particularly on a strange castle-shaped mound where there were
engravings of African fauna such as giraffes and elephants. On one such engraving we identified a donkey, which
reminded us that this was the only animal of burden available to desert travelers until the domesticated camel was
introduced into Egypt in around 500 BCE. That evening we camped at the foot of a large dune. It’s difficult to find the
right words to describe a night in such a remote and untouched place—serene, peaceful, perhaps even close to the gods.
On the third day, after we traveled for several hours along the edge of the Great Sand Sea and its massive golden
dunes, we arrived at the mysterious stone circle that British explorer Sergeant Ralph Bagnold of the Long Range Desert
Patrol discovered by chance in 1930. It was hard to believe that this strange artifact was thousands of years old and that
most of the heavily eroded standing stones had remained undisturbed for all this time. Yet this is what is most curious
about this particular desert: explorers can find prehistoric stone artifacts simply lying in the sand, as if they had been
placed there that same day. We examined Bagnold Circle and its possible astronomy and artifacts of the surrounding area
(see chapter 4). We made camp for the night on a flat sandy area that was about 300 meters (985 feet) from the circle,
which gave us a wonderful opportunity to check the alignments of the circle at sunset and at night with the stars. We also
took measurements at sunrise.
The next day, we set off again, and after nearly a whole day’s drive, we reached the edge of Gilf Kebir. The weather
was scorching hot. We drove into a broad valley with a range of hills on both sides, and it was obvious that it had rained
very recently, for the floor of the valley was covered with a fine duvet of green sprigs and a few wildflowers here and
there. It was a beautiful sight, so unexpected in this desert world of stark yellow and brown hues. Marai, who had been at
Gilf Kebir many times before, said that he had never seen vegetation here and would honestly not have believed it
possible had he not seen it with his own eyes. According to weather statistics, it rains here only a few millimeters every
twenty years or so.
We stopped the cars and stretched a tarpaulin between two of the vehicles to make a shaded area in order to have a
light meal and sleep for a couple of hours, thereby avoiding the blistering heat of high noon. At last, when the sun was
lower in the sky, we resumed our drive toward the so-called Aqaba Pass. We reached the pass a few hours before sunset
and quickly drove through the massive gash that looks like a stone version of the parting of the Red Sea: It felt as if at any
minute the high walls would come tumbling down upon us like giant waves. While navigating the soft desert floor of the
pass, we had some anxious moments when two of our three vehicles bogged down, stuck at the same time. If we had not
been able to free at least one of them, our survival would have become precarious, but we managed to get them out, and
we emerged safely on the west side of Gilf Kebir and then drove northward, our vehicles skimming the edge of the huge
rocky cliffs like tiny cockroaches. The landscape is best described as Martian, with strange outcrops of brown and reddish
rock and weird sand formations, and we felt as if we were on a lifeless alien planet.
Just as the sun was setting low, we reached the celebrated Wadi Sura, the location of the famous Cave of Swimmers
discovered by Almasy in 1936. It was growing dark, and Marai gave orders to his crew to set up camp and prepare the
evening meal. Sitting around a campfire, sipping hot tea, we talked of the rock engravings and drawings in the cave. We
had seen photographs and the drawings of Almasy that showed black-skinned people diving and swimming (hard to
imagine now in this arid region), and others in the art appeared to be dancing, hunting, playing games, and even perhaps
performing religious rituals. Dustin, one of the American guests, was celebrating his fortieth birthday, so we decided to
give him a treat by organizing a little celebration at the entrance of the cave. The spectacle seemed to be in a fairytale
setting, with the stars twinkling brightly over the peaks of the cliffs in front of the cave and our flashlights bringing to life
the prehistoric drawings. For a little while we were all in an enchanted mood, as if time was standing still, as if we had
perhaps been here before in some very distant time. It was amazing how well-preserved the drawings were, and we gazed
at them for hours, entranced by the mood and the ancient art and talking to each other in whispers so as not to disturb the
usual silence of this place. People had been here thousands of years ago, and now it was our turn to be here in this
primordial world. As we watched the night slowly give way to day, a shooting star—a meteorite—streaked silently across
the sky. We all knew in our hearts that we would never forget this starry night.