Part V: Bu Wizzer

I land in Cairo at 8 AM. I dig out my previous my Egyptian SIM card and stick it back in the phone. I walk outside into a fresh, chilly morning.

The drive into Cairo is a major culture shock: the city is the most humongous, glittering, modern, vast urbanscape in Africa. Nairobi, the biggest city I’ve been in the last six weeks, seems like a small town in comparison.

Massive beautiful geometric mosques loom up to the skyline. As we move from the modern Heliopolis area to the old heart of the city, the squat, decaying medieval area made of clay contrasts sharply with the modern. I can see the straight line of mosques stretching in the distance, obviously built along a ley line. We pass the concrete shells of half built buildings and arrive in the modern city of Giza, a horrible place of hectic traffic and a canal with water so polluted it is practically solid. They dump their garbage all along the canal so that it slides in. Ragged cats and ibis birds dig through the stinking piles. The ibis was a bird so sacred to the ancient Egyptians that they mummified it; their degradation seems a fitting symbol of how things have changed.

I'm staying in Saqqara, the place south of Cairo with all of the pyramids and other sites, where I planned to return to do the horse trip and to explore the sites in more detail. The Airbnb is relatively peaceful: open desert on one side, and on the other, a nice village with reasonably clean dirt paths and clay buildings. In the far distance you can see the Giza pyramids; nearby you see the 3 pyramids of Abusir and the one at Saqqara. In the last three years they have walled off the desert, the assholes. Now it’s not so easy to wander around in this place where there are probably ancient remains everywhere you dig. Theoretically it’s not legal to walk around on foot — at least, for tourists — but it's fine on a horse. There are stables all around the area. I'm so excited for my horse trip into this desert, the one the ancients called Bu Wizzer, which I believe to be the center of the ancient civilization.

I decide to do the horse trip with my host, Mohammad, instead of with the guy I met before at Saqqara, because it’s easier to manage. He takes me next door to the stables to meet the horse. The beautiful brown creature kicks up its heels and runs in a spirited way around the ring. The horses in this beautiful historic stable seem healthy and happy.

I go to bed early thinking about how I’m finally about to do the ride I’ve dreamed of in this desert. I’ve been saving my last hit of LSD for this day. It’s hard to sleep as there are so many mosquitos in my room, although I think with relief that I’m out of the malaria zone. There are also hundreds of barking dogs, and the speakers of the mosque sound like they are inside my room. I listen to the prayers which sound, by now, so familiar and yet so exotic, so beautiful and yet so intrusive. After weeks of hearing African Muslims pray, I listen with fascination to the way native Arabic speakers pronounce the syllables, the rich, ringing tones, the rolling ‘r’s.

The next morning Mohammad makes me a big breakfast of beans and pita and eggs and felafel. We drive to the stable, which is very nearby, and get saddled up. My horse is a bit wild and difficult to control but I feel up to the task. We proceed out of the gate which is a hidden side exit to the desert wall. We trot off in the direction of Saqqara. Now that the trip is underway and I start to feel comfortable again on the horse, I take my hit of medicine.

Then a jeep materializes out of the desert and the men are talking to Mohammad. He tells me we are in trouble and I have to go back. Suddenly I don’t see his horse and he’s running back. He says he needs my horse, I get off and he gets on and gallops off. I start cursing and walking back through the desert but the tourist police stop me and say, “Closed.” The desert is closed? I ask. They don’t speak English, like all tourist police, and are good-natured. As always in Egypt, much talking ensues. I roll them some tobacco while we wait for whatever will happen. I can see the opening where we entered the desert from the stable. It is the only way that I know how to get back; I have no idea how to get there from the road.

Another jeep materializes and a pleasant, well-educated, Westernized guy gets out and introduces himself as the head of antiquities in the area and says it’s all closed while they are doing archaeological research. I tell him that I specifically returned to Egypt to do this trip. In an attempt to make me happy, I guess, they say they will take me on a special tour to Saqqara to see a new tomb they have just uncovered. I tell him that I only know how to get back to my Airbnb through the desert, and he says I can’t go back that way. I figure I will do their tour and then escape. I’m starting to come on to my trip and my logistical mind isn’t working very clearly. I figure I can always call Mohammad. Thank Isis I got that SIM card at the airport.

Another English-speaking Egyptologist accompanies me to Saqqara. We hurdle through the desert. “More fun than a horse tour!” he exclaims. “Safari.” We climb up to the area above the pyramid, where there is a killer view. He shows me some of the new uncovered areas of the tombs of the New Kingdom kings, Maya and Horenheb.

They are typical New Kingdom tombs, full of highly patriarchal images of terrorized Nubian slaves being colonized and oppressed. He points out one of the rare images of a horse.

“After the Hyksos,” I say. “Exactly,” he says. The Hyksos were a mysterious Semitic people who colonized and ruled Egypt for about 80 years and brought the horse and chariot. After they were kicked out, things got more patriarchal from there. “This was an evil time, lots of colonization and slavery,” I say. He mutters something about respecting Egyptian culture, implying that I am being disrespectful to Egyptian culture by saying this. Clearly, modern Egyptians regard this colonization glorious, and themselves to be the descendants of this empire when in fact they are just recent invaders and colonists. As I see it, ancient Egyptian culture has nothing to do with current Egyptians, and belongs to the whole world. The New Kingdom era depicted in this tomb was a pivotal moment in colonial oppression; perhaps the biggest milestone since Babylon. The pic below shows the enslaved Semites.

My guide and jailor ceremoniously hands me the keys to the tomb and says he will leave me alone in there and I should lock it when I’m done and join him and the guard for tea. I understand that he is trying to distract me from my disappointment about not being able to ride in the desert by acting like I’m an honored guest, and, that he has only left me alone because there is no way out of the tomb except past him. I wonder if they've done this before to distract tourists who seem to be in search of the real truth.

This too is a standard New Kingdom tomb, nothing mysterious, standard patriarchal narrative. I whisper to the terrified slaves in the images that I don’t forget them. I lock the tomb and head up to the guard’s house for tea. The Egyptologist shows me pictures of his daughter and of a rare bee drawing they have recently found in one tomb.

I tell him I want to visit the Serapeum. I didn't have a chance to see it the last time I was there. He accompanies me, of course. I am a prisoner. At least I don't have to pay the entrance fees! We descend into the massive underground chambers. The passageway connects 24 narrow chambers where in 1850 French explorer Petrie discovered 24 enormous solid granite sarcophagi, and decided to devote himself to Egyptology. The mainstream theory is that these were burial chambers for bulls, since in other areas nearby bull mummies have been found. However, no bull mummies have been found in the Serapeum -- which, as usual, Egyptologists attribute to "tomb robbers", though how on earth would they have opened these heavy things to get to the bull mummy? Anyways, they are many times too huge to contain a bull. The orthodoxy dates this site to the 19th dynasty -- based on nothing but a few some pottery shards found there that date to that time! It doesn't ever occur to experts that something can built and then occupied thousands of years later?

No reasonable person can stand next to these things and reasonably imagine they were constructed to hold a bull, nor, imagine they were constructed with metal files. The lids alone are impossible to move -- it would be impossible to fit enough people in these tiny chambers to budge these things even in inch! Like other megalithic sites, the granite is perfectly smooth, with rounded or straight edges. The precision is to 1 micron, impossible to achieve with ancient tools. One guy on AncientOrigins.net proposes that the reason for using such heavy granite and making the lids so precise is that when fitted they are hermetically sealed. His theory is that they were used for a fermentation process, so hermetically sealing was necessary to keep gases inside, and granite is not porous so would work for that. The granite is made of quartz which generates an electrical charge under stress. In any case, they clearly had some kind of electric light in this chamber because there is no soot on the walls. He also talks about how many closed off and secret areas there are, with wires poking out of nowhere.

I don't feel comfortable asking my "companion" to pose in a photo with the sarcophagi, but it's crucial to see it with a human for scale, so here's a pic I borrowed from Brian Foerster's YouTube channel (he's a big contributor to the field of alternative archaeology):

Here's what Antoine Gigal has to say on the Serapeum.She fills us in on the history, that, like other very ancient places, the Serapeum was far below ground level when discovered. Mariette the discoverer had to use explosives to break through the sealed entrance.

I walk around, shaking my head in amazement at the massive size and precision of the things. There are only hieroglyphics on one spot, which the guy makes sure to point out to me, to prove they are actually Egyptian and not something else. Nassim Haramein, in his video on this site, points out that the few hieroglyphs are clearly not the same quality and precision as the sarcophagi themselves. He also points out how the angles inside them are a perfect 90%.

We emerge from the Serapeum. It’s getting close to closing time and my jailor is getting more nervous about what he’s going to do with me. He has summoned a taxi, a beautiful antique white Mercedes with blue leather seats and fuzzy bright blue fabric decorating its dash, which waits for me right outside the restroom when I go. He says I need to call my host so the driver knows where to take me in Abu Sir, and that I can arrange with him how much to pay him. I say that I don’t need a ride, Abu Sir is very close and I can walk. “You can’t go back through the desert,” he says, with the first hint of sharpness in his voice he’s had all day. “Ok”, I say mildly, “but I can walk there from here.” He says I don’t have to pay, the driver will take me, but first he has to take another person to Giza, a Dutch guy needs a ride there.

I really don’t want to drive through the sheer hell that is the city of Giza so I try to find Mohammad’s address on the Airbnb site. I don’t have my reading glasses and I’m tripping so it’s really difficult to see my phone. I squint and see that the Airbnb listing hasn’t provided an address. I click on the number to call him, and get a recording in Arabic. The number doesn’t work. Now I am starting to panic a bit. These assholes, eager to hide whatever is in the desert from the public, are willing to throw me lost in the middle of the city rather than let me walk through the fucking desert! I’m not sure whether Mohammad responds to Airbnb messages as before when I messaged him there, he never answered, but it's my only hope of reaching him. I send him a message, “Help! I’m lost!”

The driver doesn’t speak a word of English, and I’m getting more and more agitated as we drive deeper into the city, and nothing looks familiar. Since I’m tripping the city seems even more horribly polluted, crowded, noisy, and jarring than usual. People’s faces seem distorted and scary. Then the Egyptologist gets dropped off and I realize, I’m alone in the taxi with the guy who doesn’t speak English, and doesn’t care about me. I’m not paying him, and he tries vaguely to drop me off at some random place. I tell him no.

Finally I get a message from Mohammad through Airbnb, with his phone number. So it’s all fine, the driver calls him and he arranges to meet me with his car. When he picks me up he’s really upset. He says that he’s taken tourists out in the desert hundreds of times and he doesn’t know why it’s a problem. He seems really agitated. I tell him it's all good and I have no problems with him and I hope he and I will be friends for life. He says he feels the same. It seems like an eternity that I’m in the car, with all the honking and the nauseating speed bumps. I had primed myself for a day of riding on a horse in the open, and being in the car is torture. We get home and I head straight to the rooftop to smoke a joint, pacing around and around the rooftop like the crazy horse at the stable next door that runs around and around in its ring. I try to release the anger and panic by pacing and shaking. I try to release my helpless rage at the Egyptian government that commits this crime against the people by closing off the most important area of the world to the public, and lying to the world that they have solved the ancient mysteries.

All the pacing and the anger makes me really nauseous, even though I haven’t eaten since breakfast and now the sun is setting. I look around for somewhere I could vomit that wouldn’t affect anyone, but don’t see anywhere. I sit down and close my eyes and meditate. I spread my awareness through my body and calm my nausea, calm my anger. Behind my closed lids I see little bursts of light like fireworks. Peace and bliss spread through me. I start to feel really good. The sunset prayers sound: a voice with delay effects on it echoes across the valley, and another voice answers back from the speaker on the other side. In my altered state, it sounds profoundly mysterious and psychedelic.

After the sunset I retreat to my room. My elevated state helps me know how to stretch and move to release my body and mind. My body starts moving as it knows how to do in trance. I adjust and stretch my body. I'm still sore from climbing the Rwenzori Mountains in Uganda, which now seems so very far away, in every sense.

I’m reaching a really blissful state when there’s a knock on the door. Mohammad has brought his brother and his mother to say hello to me since they were really worried about me when I was lost. I really don’t want my process interrupted by the bright fluourescent lights but I don’t have much of a choice. Mohammad’s mom is a beautiful woman wearing an intricate fancy black lacey dress and hijab. She hugs me warmly and kisses me on both cheeks. She doesn’t speak a word of English and is talking to me in Arabic, making gestures of thanks up to Allah. It’s great to be in the presence of an actual woman — only been a precious few times in my 2 months in Egypt! — but we can’t really communicate. Finally they take off. I go out to the balcony and admire the huge supermoon over the fields, shaking my body and my legs to release the last of the day’s stress, and the mountain hiking soreness, from my body. The moon is full and I think back to all the full moons I experienced on this trip. The first one over Luxor temple; the second in Sinai; the third in Kenya over the Serengeti. The next one I will be at home, on Spring Equinox. I feel really good. I sleep well.

The next day I head out to two other sites, Meidum and Dashur. Meidum was a pyramid that was probably mostly mined for stone by ancients who then built a new structure on top. It looks like something out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, a weird stone cube. I don’t like the energy. If pyramids focus and sharpen energies, maybe cubes trap them. Like the big sacred cube in Mecca, the Ka’aba. Coincidentally, this morning Mohammad my host had the TV on showing pilgrims in Mecca doing the ritual called the hajj: millions walk around and around the big black cube (counter-clockwise). It’s kind of cool that they do such a trancelike walk, but the whole scene feels creepy at the same time.

The cubelike structure at Meidum reminds me of this. It looks like a newer building too, made of brick, not megalithic stone like the really ancient sites. It could be from a time when patriarchy had really set in, and the cube shape is about control and repressing of the energies of ley line underneath. This is idle speculation on my part.

Then off to Dahshur, the “bent” pyramid. There are a few pyramids in the area, and you can’t actually go up to the bent one, you just see it in the distance. The official story on why it’s bent is as ridiculous as the official stories on all things Egyptian: the ancients fucked up. Oops. Hope the next pyramid is better, practice makes perfect!

The Red Pyramid is nearby.

I descend the long modern wooden ramp. There are two chambers, both with triangular roofs. There is one group of Spanish people, and when they leave I sit down in the center of the chamber to meditate. One person has remained behind who is of similar mind. I hear her breathing rhythmically as I meditate. I reach a peaceful state almost immediately. The pic below is what the ceiling of the inner chamber looks like.

Alternative theorists believe that the Red Pyramid is another megalithic structure. The large blocks are fitted too tightly for a piece of paper to fit between them. Alternative researcher Brian Foerster did a resonance test inside and found it is tuned to the key of A. In this video they go into a 3rd chamber that I can't find. The third chamber has water damage so Foerster theorizes that the sound-tuned chambers allowed for sound resonance which broke down the water into its molecules, hydrogen and oxygen, to produce electromagnetic fields. Each pyramid was tuned to a different frequency.

It’s a long drive back to Mohammad's. When I get back we are planning to do the horse ride again. Mohammad said that there are no guards in the afternoon so we should be fine this time. As we drive back I start wondering if I should get back on that horse. The bumpy drive is making me nauseous, so I don't feel like doing it, but I'm also afraid. I’ve been operating under the assumption that the tourism police won’t do anything to a tourist, especially an American, but this time they’ve caught me and warned me not to go into the desert. After all, they did pursue those Germans who took samples inside the Great Pyramid and arrested them in Jordan.

I get back to the place and lay in bed, taking deep breaths to calm the nausea. After a few minutes I feel better. No, fuck them: I’m going. We saddle up and ride. And then it seems ridiculous to have been scared, it's such an innocuous scene: there are plenty of people in the desert at this time of the evening, mostly kids playing soccer. It’s hardly fucking “closed”. We pass some white people on horses. One young woman says in a posh British accent, “Are you from the club?” “No,” Mohammad and I say in unison. Ahhhh. The country club rides here. As Mohammad had told me, it’s not closed at all. It's only closed to non-rich tourists who may be snooping around looking for the truth about human origins.

The temperature is pleasant and the light is luminous. It feels amazing to canter on the soft sands toward the three pyramids of Abu Sir in the distance. We stop at the pyramid of Sahure. Mohammad pays off the guard, a guy from his village, to let us in and hold our horses, about 7 bucks. It doesn’t feel like a megalithic structure, as it’s all of small stones, and the temple outside is from Greek times, but it has a sacred feel. Perhaps it was built on an earlier sacred site. Mohammad points out how there is different type of stone from all over Egypt: pink granite, black granite, limestone, sandstone.

Then we gallup off to the most incredible place: Abu Ghurab. It’s also closed to visitors, so he pays off the guard. I see immediately this place is megalithic, there are huge, precisely-cut pink granite blocks. It looks as if the stones were scattered by a huge catastrophic event. Then you see the large basins built of glittering alabaster, which is basically Egyptian quartz crystal, about 5 of them. Pictures can’t do justice to the beauty of the crystal stone, or to the size and solidity of the basins. They look like hot tubs and have some perfectly round little drillholes cut in them, suggesting machining. Actually they look more like giant gears.

Later I read this website, bibliotecapleyades, which says that Abu Ghurab is one of the oldest ceremonial site on the planet! I get that feeling being here! The information came through Stephen Mehler and Bob Vawter, both students of Hakim Awyan, the teacher and mystery keeper featured in the Pyramid Code documentary. Egyptologists guess that these basins were used to hold sacrificial animal blood, but there's no DNA evidence found to support this, or any other evidence. The alternative researchers on this website suggest that the basins were processing vats for gold.

Then I see it: the stargate. My mouth literally falls open. It’s a huge alabaster platform, with a perfect circle in the middle and arrows pointing out from it to the four directions. It’s so tall that it comes up to my knees.It's also made of solid, crystalline alabaster. I can't get a good perspective of it with my phone so I took the second pic off the bibliotecapleyades website.

The website goes on to say that the Egyptians' oral traditions held that this site was already ancient by the time of the 5th dynasty, when Egyptologists claim it was built. Hakim claimed that “the site was designed to create heightened spiritual awareness through the use of vibrations transmitted through the alabaster and other materials. This expanded awareness enabled one to connect with the sacred energies of the universe known as Neters, the gods in human-animal shapes you see depicted by the ancients. Indigenous tradition teaches that the Neters themselves, in some sort of physical form, once “landed” and appeared in person at Abu Ghurab….the alabaster platform created a harmonic resonance through sound vibrations to increase the heightened awareness and to further open the senses to “communicate” and be one with the Neters.”

In other words, it increased levels of spiritual awareness through harmonic resonance generated by the vibrations of alabaster, allowing us to be in a state of consciousness capable of perceiving the gods.

Me in front of some megalithic blocks.

We leave the stargate and gallop through the desert .. I feel free and happy, I’ve never run this fast on a horse before! It’s my last sunset in the desert of the ancient land of Memphis.

The next day I rest and do my laundry and chat with the other tourist who has arrived at Mohammad’s, from Poland. She's shocked that I’ve spent almost 2 months in Egypt. “Are you excited to be going back to somewhere clean?” She asks. “Yes!” She’s pretty horrified and frustrated with all of it, and wondering how she will endure the next 5 days before she flies home. The kids haranguing her in the streets, the guards asking for baksheesh, the trash everywhere. “You get used to it,” I tell her.

“It’s way better than life in Europe,” interjects Mohammad. He lived in Holland for 9 years, and was lonely and cold. “I came back because the life is more open here. In Europe, people go to work all day, then come home .. here the life is in the streets.”

I can totally understand why someone could prefer life in Egypt. I can also totally understand why someone could prefer the clean, orderly life in Europe. America feels to me like the compromise: not so over-developed as northern Europe, much cleaner than Egypt.

I take the night bus to Siwa Oasis. It takes 12 hours. I manage to get some sleep and wake up at the moment of sunrise, as so often happens. I squint out the bus window at the deepest red sky I’ve ever seen in the morning. Then fall asleep again and wake from a very vivid dream set in Egypt, which I’ve now forgotten. A hand on my shoulder shakes me awake. “Siwa.” I blearily allow myself to bundled into a motocycle cart since the driver seems to know the Temple House that I have booked on Airbnb.

Next: Siwa Oasis .. last destination