THE VALLEY OF DEATH

by Owen Coetzer

This article originally appeared in January, 1997 in the Independent Online.

Warnings that careless, exploitive methods of archaeology—treasure seeking is another phrase—have shifted and damaged carefully-laid ancient flash flood routes which once successfully directed water around tomb entrances, have gone unheeded. Now flooded tombs have become an annual disaster and an excruciating nightmare, seemingly without end, for Egyptian antiquities authorities who rely almost exclusively on income from foreign tourism. A closed tomb is just a deadly debit. This year, like last, will be no exception. And there may not even be time for the “new” Ramessid tomb—designated as KV5 (King’s Valley 5) early last century when it was discovered—to be fully excavated before shifting rock strata collapses. And certainly, this year for the same reason, more damage is expected to be caused to that of Tutankhamun. But few, if any, heed the warnings regularly sounded by one archaeologist whose sincere quest has been for the salvation of this timeless, once secret valley.

In 1981 John Romer, British art historian, architect, and Egyptologist, carried out the first major excavation there since the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922. It was the first major expedition since Howard Carter first saw the glint of fabulous gold through a tiny hole and reported “wonderful things” to his sponsor, Lord Carnarvon. The excavation was concerned exclusively with the documentation and conservation of the royal tombs of Thebes. Romer began his work with the tomb of Ramesses XI—the last royal tomb to have been built in the valley.

Significantly, the major part of two years was devoted to geological and hydrological studies. Rocks and water. Today, they play a vital part in what John Romer has to say. And not many archaeologists, still working in the valley, or out of it, like it very much.

He told me this week, from his home in the Italian village of Aiola in Tuscany: “I’ve called it the Rape of Tutankhamun—the exploitation of a small valley in a foreign country by a diverse group of specialists who, in return, give precious little to conserve its ancient monuments and worse, on occasion seem even to threaten them. The valley lies on a stratum of shale which is water-sensitive. Also the valley is subject to flash floods coming down from the high desert. So far all but 10 of the valley’s tombs—in all there are some 85 known tombs, 25 of which are tombs of the pharaohs of the New Kingdom—have been entered by these floods. In the last 150 years, a third of all the known tombs—there are at least seven pharaohs who are still buried somewhere in the valley, but we don’t know where—have been re-buried under rubble and sand brought down by flash-floods. Some two-thirds of the tombs, including several of the royal ones, still hold some of this heavy flood debris inside them (like KV5) and several have been completely filled by it.

“Now, a busy little industry of publication, excavation and conferencing has grown up round the Valley of the Kings. Nine separate excavators have worked within its 40 acres, clearing, or nearly clearing, 14 tombs of debris. In 1993, four major excavations were underway—and probably still are, they don’t tell me—which will involve the moving of thousands of tons of debris.

“You see,” he explains, “though the rest of the world may view places like the Royal Valley as wonders of the world, many experts clearly regard them as mines in which to dig...and this attitude is now threatening damage to some of the most famous, including that of Tutankhamun. The Supreme Council of Egyptian Antiquities, has specifically appealed for foreign help in the work of conservation. So far, the response has been minimal....”

The problem is rocks and water. The more rubble is shifted around, the more flood damage can be expected. The more water that enters ancient rock cut tombs, the more damage to priceless paintings and walls of hieroglyphics is a certainty. Simply, when the tombs dry out, the shale rock desicates and splits under pressure from the limestone. Then it collapses.

And Romer, with his archaeologist wife, Elizabeth, has catalogued the march of dreadful destruction. Their warning is dire. The whole Valley, with its priceless history, is literally on the move....

In 1977, geologists with John Romer reported that it had seemed that a lot of damage had occurred during the excavation of tombs when wet flood debris had been removed. Romer told me: “We found that flooding had a devastating structural effect. Shale clay can change volume and cause heaving. The problem is aggravated when the tomb is opened and left to dry. It causes shrinking and subsidence. But it is not only the shale that is dangerously affected by water—the limestone is also vulnerable.

“There were other considerations. We wanted to know why it was that so many of the royal tombs had suddenly began to crack and twist in the 1970s. Rock tests showed that no amount of tourists breathing on the ancient walls would actually bring them down—that does damage of another, bacteriological form. Similarly, vibrations from the buses and coaches bringing tourists to the Valley that might have accelerated damage in tombs close to the road, could hardly cause damage in tombs like Tuthmosis IV that were half a mile away and high up on the mountainside....

“Then we isolated a brand new factor in the desert landscape, something that had introduced into it in the decades before the recent spate of damage had occurred. There had been just one new factor—the Rest House at the Valley’s centre with its café and restrooms, built in the first years after the revolution by an optimistic government planning for an enlarged tourist trade.”

Says Romer: “The sewage from this rest house ran underground, encased in concrete in a single large-bore sewage pipe, right through the Valley’s centre. As it passed the famous tombs close by, it seemed secure enough, but outside this immediate area it emptied into a closed concrete septic tank. One of the strange things we discovered was that while it was constantly filled, it was hardly ever emptied. We discovered where the liquid was going—into the tombs.

“The Egyptian authorities were made aware of what was happening and immediately closed the area. Now a new restaurant and rest house has been built away from the Valley, with an attendant coach park. In its original place now stands a simple and elegant sun shelter. So that, we thought, was that.

“But it wasn’t. To my amazement, archaeologists started to dig again in the Valley in the late 1980s. I wrote, and delivered a warning paper at the International Congress of Egyptology in Turin in 1991. The first reaction I encountered at the conference was brusque. I was told that, if I had seen the amounts of 'conservation’ that one of these expeditions had performed, I would not have written as I did. They said I had not even bothered to go to the Valley to see for myself. One author wrote in learned journal that my claim that the Valley was about to cave in had been discounted by archaeological sources in Cairo, and that I had based my predictions on a survey conducted 14 years before.

“So I went back to the Valley. The reality proved to be even more disquieting that I had ever imagined. Here was no brave new archaeology, just more of the same.... There had been a 15 percent increase in the area of exposed tomb walls. Yet, still, no-one had ever surveyed the rocks and rock faults of this Valley with its valuable little tombs. No-one still knew the extent to which they were geologically connected with the other side of the hill. Nor had anyone attempted to control the rate of desication.

“New excavations had taken place. I became aware again how in ancient times the Valley had served as an efficient drain without entering tombs. Now it would be different. Because of new debris, this would not happen. Water would get into the newly opened tombs. The ancient, sacred pathways—the same ones used by the pharaoh’s workmen—are crushed under the weight of tourists boots or buried by excavators’ tips.

“This, then, is the destruction of an ancient and unique environment. Few western Egyptologists seem to care about it. Several, indeed, are participating directly in its dissolution. My conclusions were that my warning at the congress in Turin in 1991 had been timely, but not strong enough. The situation was worse than I had imagined....”

What is to be done? Says Romer: “Every site in Egypt is unique. Today, each one of them has its own special problems. As for the Valley of the Kings, its first requirement is that some of the tombs need immediate expert attention.

“We need emergency measures for example to prevent the vault of King Seti’s burial chamber smashing to the floor—which it is likely to do after the next rainstorm. In the long term we need to do a complete geological survey and place monitoring equipment in the tombs, and subtle engineering works is needed to stabilise the valley rocks. The Valley must be made safe from flash floods. Its floor must be kept free of obstacles so that water can move straight through it with a minimum of damage. Deep-lying tombs, like that of Tutankhamun, might be fitted with waterproof doors.

“If we do not rally to the aid of the Valley of the Kings, in 25 years most of them will be ruined. When that ancient land and its monuments have died, part of us, a part of our humanity will have died as well. And our children will wonder how on earth something like that was ever allowed to happen. But by then it will be too late....”

Some years ago, John and Elizabeth Romer made a television documentary called The Rape of Tutankhamun cataloguing the events in the Valley of the Kings. It was produced and directed by Alan Hayling and John Willis of Channel 4 TV in Goodge Street, London. Ten egyptologists, says Romer, cared sufficiently about conservation that they allowed themselves to be interviewed, as did the then-chairman of the then Egyptian Antiquities Organisation, Dr. Mohammed Ibrahim Bakr, and two other EAO archaeologists, Dr. Zahi Hawass and Dr. Elsayed Hegazy. Romer tells me: “As for the film of the Rape of Tut,” as he quaintly calls it, “the British Museum has officially refused to allow its clearance for home video, of interviews shot in the Museum—though this is usually granted automatically on the payment of a fee. We have also been defamed both by Valley archaeologists, who attempted, unsuccessfully thank goodness, to stop some of my future filming work; and also by some members of the EAO who apparently have sided with them.

“In 1992 there were no less than eight expeditions working the KV, one only basing its primary activities on conservation. To my knowledge only two of these expeditions have adequately qualified archaeologists working in them. Several of the specialists who are presently at work on the KV material are very worried about the loss of 'scientific’ information which, as anyone who knows the Valley can see, is being lost as the poor old tombs are 'excavated’.

“Egyptology being what it is though, you will seldom hear their worries stated in public—and there are at least another 30 tombs still half-buried in excavator’s dirt. At the moment there might be three or four of these groups in action—it is difficult to be precise as some of them stay for a few weeks at a time, and they do not go out of their way to inform me of their progress.

“We have had hundreds of letters of support from people, many of whom want to help, but have invariably found that the clubs and societies of Egyptology in America and United Kingdom, support the 'scientific research’ of the universities, and they of course are terrified that public expressions of concern will threaten their future work in Egypt. But most westerners have long given up big game hunting for conservation. With public pressure building, it should only be a matter of time before the direction of this so-called 'science’ of Egyptology changes from vivisection to conservation. And governments, too, will surely respond once they come to realise that presently this 'field science’ is operating as a form of neo-colonialism and damaging a vital national resource and one of the world's finest ancient monuments.”

In the presence of Pharaoh Tutankhamun no-one speaks. Only the shuffling of feet is heard in the small tomb. And the sudden, fierce intake of awed breath as the moment sinks in.

I know. I have been there.

The solid gold coffin glints in the artificial light. If you look for them, the cracks are there. The paintwork on the walls is spotted and speckled. The Pharaoh, dressed in the white robe of Osiris, wearing the double crowns of the two ancient kingdoms of the north and south, and bearing the flails of his high office, is a table. On it is the implement for the ceremony of Opening the Mouth, and what looks like a lotus plant. Both are faded and hard to see.

Last year, the tomb flooded. This year, it will do the same.

Immortality is here. But death is all about. Rocks. And water....