The daily life of an ancient Egyptian girl.
Dear Friends,
I carefully open my eyes, blinking groggily at the blinding sunlight. I reach over to flip on the light switch, but my hand finds the rough texture of mud bricks. I glance around, confused. I seem to be in what looks like a small hut. There is barely any furniture, only a small wooden stool sitting next to a window. Through it I can vaguely see rows after rows of green crops. I feel a sharp pain in my back, to find that my comfortable bed has been replaced with a bare, leather mat hastily spread upon a gravel floor. I hear a woman's voice drifting from outside the window, coming slowly nearer with each heartbeat.
“Where is she?...”
“Still sleeping…” My heart thumps even harder as I hear the footsteps crunching the dirt directly outside of the hut.
“Omerose! Up, up!” The woman speaks in a foreign tongue that I surprisingly recognize. I sit up and wipe the sweat off my brow, then run a hand through my garnered hair. I walk instinctively towards a small, brown box to my right, and pick out a kalerisis. I tie it around my body tightly, and gasp. Then slowly turn around to face the woman.
“Mut!” The word slips out of my mouth before I even know what it means. Buried deep in my memory is “mother”.
“Omerose, you are late for your chores!” She scolds.
“Your brother has already left for scribe school to lift our family’s status, and yet you linger here making no contribution whatsoever…” I drown out the rest of her speech and look again out of the small window near my mat. Where could I possibly be?
“Egypt has never seen such a lazy girl!” Egypt? I glance at the green crops. I don’t see any pyramids, nor do I spot a desert. And then I remember. It hits me like a slap in the face. I am no longer Ellah, but Omerose, a poor, Egyptian peasant girl living with my mother, father, and brother alongside the banks of the Nile river, where instead of bare and sandy, our backyard is lush and fructuous. Luckly, we have not experienced any major floods. Mut says that the god of the Nile, Hapy, is protecting us.
“I want you out there weeding the crops, and I’ll make us fresh bread.” I obediently march out of the low framed doorway and smell the satisfactory aroma of earth and life. I scoop up a handful of rich, fertile, mud and let it ooze out of my hand. It feels good against the scorching sun. Weeding the plants is painstaking work, leaving my hands blistered and bleeding as I pull up sprout after sprout of unwanted vegetation. I see the priest from his perch and try to work laboriously. I remember last year my whole family got beaten brutally for a poor harvest, including my four-year-old brother. Now that he is attending scribe school he will not have to suffer the wrath of the priest. I long to join him. Learning hieroglyphs sounds interesting, but I know it was strictly forbidden for girls like me to go to school or become scribes.
“Omerose, come eat your breakfast, quickly now.” Mut calls. I yank out a final weed then sprint into the small kitchen and take a seat on the floor.
“Where is ab?” I ask. Mut arranges the bread on the floor and tentatively takes a small sip of beer.
“Your father left to work on a pyramid today. He is doing a great honor to the pharaoh.” She answers, with an edge of fear in her voice. I understand why. Building a pyramid is dangerous work, and laborers often return home with broken bones or damaged limbs. Suddenly, she jumps to her feet.
“We are missing flour for bread.” she says.
“Go to the bazaar and fetch some. And get your brother a new shendyt while you are there.” I quickly pinch one last crumb of bread, then head to my leather mat. Laying beside it is a necklace of simple beads. It is not intricate, like the jewelry of the nobles, but going to the market without it would be like a woman pharaoh. Not unlawful, but unnatural. I grab a basket made of dried weeds and head for the bazaar.
The bazaar is bustling and filled with life. I notice five men discussing the pharaoh’s new vizer, and a few boys playing with an animal skinned ball near one of the stands. Merchants lie in every corner, selling sparkling jewelry, papyrus strips and paper. I spot a scarab beetle bracelet in gold and lapis next to bolts of cloth hanging from a pole. The market is filled with chatter; merchants competing for others to draw the most customers.
“Beer! BEER! Get your beer here! I assure you, you will never sip a more refreshing drink than Allahn’s Best Beer!”
“Highest quality gold jewelry! Best upriver and down!”
“Most comfortable shendyts in Egypt, and for the best prices too!” A thin, scrawny, merchant yelps.
“Shendyts worthy of the pharaoh himself, right at this stand!” He shrieks. His own shendyt is worn and ragged, but I approach him anyway. I know that I won’t be able to afford decorative ones like the merchant in the next stand is selling. As I approach him, he immediately straightens his shoulders and shuffles over to me. I select a small shendyt and hold it up to him. He inspects it, then settles on a price of one gold coin. I check my basket. I only have two. Flour should cost less, I muse as I place it in his outstretched hand. He surveys the gold piece with a greedy smile on his face, then spits into his hand and shines it with his sleeve.
“Have a good day Ms,” he wheezes. I pick up my pace and head to a lone flour stand. A despondent woman stands directly in front of it. I make my request, and she hands me a bag of flour. Her prices are excellent. She only requires a small silver piece. I bid her goodbye and make my way back home. The sun is setting over the sky, displaying a magnificent array of red, orange, and pink as it disappears beneath the desert hills. In my mind I see Ra, the sun god, as an old man, sinking towards the underworld to be reborn at dawn. And as I amble home, I hear peasants humming simultaneously as they weed, water and plant, a melody more beautiful than even the sunset.
Sincerely,
Ellah
❤️ Thank you to my history teacher for creating this amazing prompt!
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