We pulled down on the top end of the planks. Nothing happened.
“Pull harder!” shouted Yamu-nedjeh.
We pulled down harder. I didn’t think anything was going to happen, but suddenly we were able to pull our plank down, and the obelisk rose up out of the ground that had held it. It seemed like a miracle to me. How could mere human beings lift such a large and heavy object? We were all proud of our accomplishment. You could see it in the men’s eyes as the giant obelisk rose up. It is freed from the quarry, much like my family will be free very soon.
DAY 612
Now the harder work begins. We must drag the obelisk to the Nile, where it will be floated to Heliopolis. After we raised the obelisk above the quarry surface, pieces of discarded granite were placed underneath it to hold it off the ground. Then hundreds more workers arrived, some of them with ropes, animal fat, water, and oxen.
Other men brought a huge wooden sled they had built. They positioned the sled in front of the obelisk. The sled was covered with water and animal grease. Ropes were attached to the obelisk. All of us—hundreds of workers plus the oxen—were ordered to go to the front of the sled. My father positioned himself next to me.
“Pull!” shouted Yamu-nedjeh.
The obelisk did not move. Yamu-nedjeh ordered workers to put more grease on the sled.
While they were doing that, an idea came into my head. I told my father that we would be able to move the obelisk more easily if a round object was inserted under it. We could, for example, take many round stones and roll the obelisk onto the sled instead of sliding it.
Father looked at me for a long time before answering.
“We are enslaved people,” he reminded me. “You are not here to think. You are here to work.”
And that was the end of that idea. It took all day, but we finally pulled the obelisk onto the sled.
DAY 613
The Nile is a short distance from the granite quarry. It would have been much easier and faster to bring the obelisk to the river if we had taken my suggestion and rolled it there. But that was not to be. Instead, Yamu-nedjeh gathered hundreds of us to push, pull ropes, and drag the sled with the obelisk on it up the small hill to the river. We worked all day under the hot sun to move it a few feet as oil, grease, and water were spread on the dirt in front. Another worker died.
DAY 620
We spent seven days dragging the obelisk to the river. I was not aware, but while we were carving the obelisk hundreds of other laborers were building a wooden barge at the edge of the Nile. It is the largest vessel I have ever seen. It will hold the obelisk as it floats down the Nile to Heliopolis.
Dozens of smaller boats were tied to the barge. I counted thirty. These boats will be paddled down the river to tow and guide the barge.
With great effort, we slid the obelisk onto the barge. I looked at it in wonder and thought, it will be impossible for this barge, as large as it is, to keep the obelisk afloat. It is sure to sink under the tremendous weight. If that happens, all our work of the last two years will be for nothing.
But the barge did not sink. Yamu-nedjeh gave the order, and the barge pulled away from the shore.
“Farewell!” we shouted as the obelisk floated away on the Nile. We watched and cheered until it was too far away to see anymore.
Finally, our job is finished. Hundreds of us had worked very hard under very difficult conditions. We created a beautiful object, and for that we are proud, even if we will not be able to enjoy it. Many innocent men died. Father, fortunately, did not. He will finally be a free man. We will be a free family. This calls for a celebration. We will sleep late tomorrow morning and enjoy our new freedom.
DAY 621
We were awakened from a deep sleep by pounding and shouting voices.
“What is it?” my mother asked as we struggled to get out of bed in the darkness. It was Yamu-nedjeh and some other overseers.
“Get up!” he yelled. “You are late!”
Father looked at me and put his finger to his lips to tell me not to talk back. But I could not help myself.
“We were promised our freedom!” I complained. “You told my father that when the obelisk is finished we would no longer be enslaved! You promised! The obelisk is finished! We should be free!”
Yamu-nedjeh looked at me with both anger and amusement in his eyes.
“You are a slave,” he finally said. “We start on a new obelisk today. Get to work!”
Meanwhile, in the present day...
“I really don’t care, Mom,” I said after she finished telling the story about the kid who helped carve Cleopatra’s Needle. It must have really sucked to be enslaved, but once Mom gets started telling her stories, there’s no stopping her.
I wasn’t just being obnoxious. I really didn’t care. So they carved the obelisk in ancient Egypt. Big deal. They carved lots of stuff in ancient Egypt. The museum was filled with all the stuff they carved. I get it. The ancient Egyptians were really good at working with stone.
In the back of my mind, I was wondering how they could have possibly brought a two-hundred-twenty-ton obelisk from Egypt all the way to America. But I didn’t want to ask because that would just encourage my mother to tell another story. If we left now, I could still catch the second half of the game.
“Let me just tell you how they stood this thing up for the first time in Egypt,” she said. “It won’t take long. Then we’ll go home. Promise.”
PART 2 I AM AN ARTIST. THIS IS MY STORY.
(1459 BCE)
Diary of Lateef Jabari, a boy in Heliopolis, Egypt, where Cleopatra’s Needle was raised for the first time
Translated from Egyptian
