The Haunting and Horrific Mummy Museum of Guanajuato

The surprisingly popular Museo de las Momias is filled with naturally preserved corpses, dried out and twisted into gruesome positions. Their wide-open mouths are enough to make visitors scream. 

There’s a museum filled with naturally preserved corpses in Guanajuato, Mexico — and it’s a popular attraction with locals and warped tourists alike.

While researching a day trip from San Miguel de Allende, Duke said, “There’s a mummy museum in Guanajuato—”

“Say no more!” I interrupted him. “I’m sold.”

It’s just the kind of perverse spectacle that made us name our site The Not So Innocents Abroad. 

“This woman had wakened under the earth. She had torn, shrieked, clubbed at the box-lid with fists, died of suffocation, in this attitude, hands flung over her gaping face, horror-eyed, hair wild.”

— Ray Bradbury, “The Next in Line”

And we’re not the only ones into this type of gruesome excursion. The parking lot was full, and there was a line to get into the museum. All told, we had to wait about 20 minutes to purchase tickets. 

“The mummies of Guanajuato bring the biggest economic income to the municipality after property tax,” Mexican anthropologist Juan Manuel Argüelles San Millán told National Geographic. “Their importance is hard to overstate.”

Meet the oldest mummy at the museum: Dr. Remigio Leroy, buried in 1860 and exhumed five years later.

Many of the mummies still have their hair and teeth — and dried sacs where their eyes have oozed out.

Our tour guide spoke in Spanish — most of the visitors were locals as opposed to fellow gringos. Our Spanish is nowhere near good enough to follow what he was saying, but we trailed after the group, snapping photo after photo. 

The mummies are pale and desiccated, twisted into horrific poses, their arms crossed over their chest or fingers bent at unnatural angles. The dried skin has flaked off in many areas, looking like a wasp nest, though on a few the skin is pulled taut and smooth. On some, the eyes look as if they’ve oozed out of their sockets to become dried sacs. Quite a few still have their teeth; you’ll see tongues protruding from others. Some still wear dusty clothes, pulled from their graves before the fabric had time to rot away. 

Many still have their hair, wild manes or neat braids. We passed a mummy that had a large patch of gray pubes, which made us groan and then giggle. 

This mummy still sports a patch of gray pubes.

One somber section is devoted to babies, eerie infants dressed in gowns and caps, looking like dreadful dolls. 

But what you notice most are the mouths. They’re open in what appears to be an eternal scream. They’re screaming, as if they knew what their ignominious fate would be. 

So, how did the mummies end up here?

If you’re buried in Guanajuato and no one pays your burial tax…you could end up a mummy at the museum!

Exhumed and Exploited 

Unlike a cemetery in the United States, where you buy a plot of land for perpetuity, the gravesites in the silver mining town of Guanajuato had a burial tax. If a family didn’t pay up, the corpse had to vacate the premises to make way for a paying customer. 

The bodies at Santa Paula cemetery were moved to an underground ossuary — what happens to be the current site of the Museum of the Mummies. 

Check out those cheekbones! This is considered to be the best-preserved mummy at the museum.

Those commissioned with the gruesome task of removing the corpses were shocked to discover that many were well preserved. Turns out that the deep crypts, devoid of humidity and oxygen, provided the ideal conditions to prevent decomposition. The bodies had dried out naturally, transforming into what are now known as the mummies of Guanajuato. 

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Gravediggers lined up the mummies and charged the public a few pesos to see them. Early viewers would break bits off of the mummies or nabbed name tags as souvenirs. 

The macabre practice continued for 90 years, until 1958. Ten years later, the city opened el Museo de las Momias de Guanajuato, and 59 of the original 111 mummies are on display. 

And so the tradition continues — though the museum now charges 85 pesos (less than $5). We sprang for the additional section, which turned out to be a kitschy collection of spooky spectacles in the vein of Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

One of the dioramas in the bonus room at the end.

Thought to be Asian, this mummy is referred to as the China Girl — and is the only one with its original coffin, despite being one of the oldest specimens in the collection.

Mummies Dearest 

The first of the mummies dates back to 1865 and is that of a French doctor, Remigio Leroy. As an immigrant, he had no one to keep up his burial tax. 

One unfortunate soul, Ignacia Aguilar, had a medical condition that greatly slowed her heart, and her family rushed to bury her (not unusual in warm climates). Ignacia was eventually unearthed, her mummy lying face-down — and the ghastly truth was discovered: Due to injuries on her forehead and the position of her arms, she’s believed to have been buried alive. 

The corpse on the left is believed to have been buried alive, while the guy in the middle drowned.

And, alongside its mother, there’s a 24-week-old fetus, believed to be the youngest mummy in existence. 

Analysis of the mummy showed that this woman was 40 years old and malnourished when she died while pregnant. Her fetus is thought to be that of the youngest mummy in existence.

Death on Display

The museum may be popular, but it also comes with its share of controversy. Aside from the questionable ethics of showcasing the forgotten dead in a freakshow of sorts, some scientists say that storing the mummies upright, as many are displayed, hampers preservation. 

But this display of death is just part of the culture. 

“For Mexicans, this isn’t bizarre or weird,” local guide Dante Rodriguez Zavala told Nat Geo. “We have a comfort level with death — we take food to our dead loved ones on Day of the Dead and invite mariachis into the cemetery.”

One of the scariest of the mummies

Pretending to be a mummy at the end

But for some, like writer Ray Bradbury, the experience is haunting. Bradbury, traumatized by his viewing of the mummies in 1945, wrote a fantastic, creepy short story about them called “The Next in Line.” It’s in his collection The October Country and will stick with you long after you finish reading it. The tale is the perfect companion piece to a visit to the Museum of the Mummies. 

Much better than the schlocky horror flick Las Momias de Guanajuato (The Mummies of Guanajuato). This movie from 1972 is part of the luchador genre, starring three wrestlers from the time — Blue Demon, Mil Máscaras and Santo, the Silver Masked Man — saving the town from a resurrected sorcerer (and fellow wrestler) named Satan and his army of the undead. –Wally

Museum of the Mummies of Guanajuato

Explanada del Panteón Municipal
Centro
36000 Guanajuato
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Daily Life in Ancient Egypt

How long did Ancient Egyptians live — and what did most people die of? What were the houses and schools like in Ancient Egypt? What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink? Egyptologist and author Barbara Mertz unearths these secrets.

What was in an Ancient Egyptian’s diet? How long did they live? And, most importantly, were they cat or dog people?

While I love learning about world religions, mythology and history, not everyone can be a ruler or high priest. It’s nice to also think about the little people. As we explored the wonders of Egypt, I kept finding myself wondering what it was like for the average person. 

It was surprisingly difficult to find a book that covered this subject. There are tons of tomes covering the temples, tombs and pharaohs. But one that tells you how most Egyptians at the time kicked the bucket? Hard to come by. 

“Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

— Barbara Mertz, “Red Land, Black Land”

So thank Horus for Barbara Metz (who, incidentally is the author of the delightful murder mysteries of the proto-feminist archeologist detective, Amelia Peabody). Mertz’s book, Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt, written in her oh-so-distinctive voice, was just what I was looking for.

Barbara Mertz — perhaps the most entertaining author on Ancient Egypt out there

Dear Reader, a Caveat

Part of what I find so enjoyable about Mertz is that she tells it like it is. She’s not too full of her own self-importance to be self-deprecating about herself and fellow Egyptologists. One thing she’ll never be accused of is being stuffy; in fact, there’s a sassiness and wit to her writings that delights me.

Mertz warns that you can’t take anything you learn about Ancient Egypt as outright facts. What we know about that time period could be a misinterpretation of the evidence, and a new discovery can utterly uproot existing theories. 

“[T]he most reliable books on ancient Egypt are loaded with boring words like ‘probably’ and ‘perhaps’ and ‘possibly’; scholars avoid ‘maybe’ for stylistic reasons, but it should be prefixed to at least 50 percent of the statements made in any book on Egypt — including this one,” she writes.

That’s especially true since Mertz first published Red Land, Black Land in 1966, with an updated edition that came out in 1978.

Mummies reveal a lot about how Ancient Egyptians lived — and died.

How long did the average Ancient Egyptian live?

About 35 years — and no wonder, Mertz says. They toiled hard and had limited access to healthcare: “Studies of Egyptian mummies show that these people suffered from a number of diseases, most of which went untreated,” she writes. “Poor nutrition and the inability to cope with infection contributed to high infant mortality. The flour ground on stone querns contained large quantities of grit that wore away tooth surfaces. Cavities were fairly infrequent, since the Egyptians didn’t have refined sugar, but a number of mummies have hideous gum abscesses.”

Ancient Egyptian doctors didn’t do the best job at fighting off a host of diseases.

What diseases were the most common?

Studies of mummies from Ancient Egypt have revealed a host of illnesses, including malaria, tuberculosis and smallpox. “Black lung disease resulted from the smoke-filled, poorly ventilated houses, and desert lung disease from the constantly blowing sand,” Mertz writes. “Perhaps the worst and most common illness was parasitic infection, which still occurs in Egypt today. The most pervasive parasite goes by two names, bilharziasis or schistosomiasis. I won’t go into details, since they are really revolting, but if not treated, the infection produces calcification of the bladder, fibrosis of the intestine, scarring of the liver, serious anemia, chronic fatigue and possibly heart disease. It isn’t fatal except in rare cases, but the sufferer probably wishes it were.”

It all sounds pretty awful — but Mertz points out, “Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

Ancient Egyptian homes weren’t too shabby; they had four rooms, plus the rooftop.

What was an Ancient Egyptian house like? 

For the middle and upper classes, there were typically four rooms in their homes. The room facing the street had no windows, aside from grates near the roof. Beyond this was an all-purpose room with columns and a higher ceiling, where the family slept, ate and entertained. A raised platform was used for a couch, bed or possibly to give birth. And behind this were two more small chambers: a kitchen and a storeroom or extra bedroom. There was a basement for storage, and a flat roof that served as extra living space. 

Beds tilted slightly downward, so instead of a headboard, there was a footboard to keep the sleeper from gently sliding down onto the floor, Mertz writes. And no down-filled pillows were to be found: “the item that would finish most of us was the pillow, which was not a pillow at all but a headrest of shoulder height, with a support curved to fit the neck,” she explains.

Dining tables were also unheard of. Even in royal palaces, every guest or pair of guests had their own little table to eat at.

In the kitchen, there weren’t any counters. While it doesn’t sound very sanitary, all cooking prep was performed on the floor, from grinding grain to kneading bread.

Egyptian homes didn’t have counter space, so meal prep was done on the ground. Consequently, a lot of food had grit in it that wore away at the teeth.

Privacy wasn’t really an option, as homes were filled with extended family members.

At Amarna, a city that briefly served as Egypt’s capital, the villas of chief courtiers even had bathrooms — a small, walled-off space with a brick-supported seat and a removable vessel beneath.

A model of an Ancient Egyptian home. Peasants’ homes were made of mud brick and would be reduced to nothing in a bad downpour.

What about the homes of the lower class?

Their huts would have been made of mud brick, containing a single room that everyone — including any domesticated animals — shared. And while it doesn’t rain often in Egypt, when it does, it’s a deluge. “A heavy downpour would reduce a peasant’s house to a pile of mud,” Mertz writes. “On the positive side, such domiciles were easy to build.”

Bread and beer were the two main staples of the Ancient Egyptian diet.

What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink?

The key staple of the Ancient Egyptian diet was bread. In fact, some loaves have survived to the present day! 

They were also quite fond of beer. These two items top the list of the mortuary texts that list the food most desired in the afterlife. 

Early Egyptians ate a lot of fish — the River Nile offered a never-ending supply.

Milk, cheese, beans, lentils and chickpeas were also consumed. 

Vegetables played a large part in the Ancient Egyptian’s diet, primarily onions, garlic, radishes and lettuce (which was an aphrodisiac and features prominently in a bizarre myth about Horus and Seth). 

“Meat was probably scarce in poor households, but well-to-do families raised cattle and such exotic animals as oryxes and gazelles for food,” Mertz writes. 

They also domesticated pigs, sheep, geese and ducks.

Wealthy nobles, not surprisingly, ate better than the peasants. For one, they could sweeten their food with honey, and they ate carob, which is as close to chocolate as the ancients got.

They ate fruit, including dates, figs, melons and grapes, which were also dried into raisins or made into wine. 

More wine? Egyptians seemed to prefer beer, but as these amphoras attest, vino was popular, too.

“People ate with their fingers,” Mertz writes, “and when the meal was over a servant, or a daughter of the household, came around with water, which was poured over the hands.”

This carving shows what appears to be an Ancient Egyptian school.

Did Ancient Egyptians go to school?

We’re not sure, but we can presume that some of the upper class children, particularly the boys, were educated at a temple or in a room of a scribe’s house. 

The tools of the scribe’s trade

They were given the equivalent of pen and ink, and they wrote on ostraca, broken fragments of pottery or stone, because papyrus was too expensive for educational purposes. As you can imagine, they wrote in the hieroglyphic Egyptian script (“the most beautiful system of writing ever devised,” according to Mertz).

“Incidentally,” she continues, “the correct noun form for the little images is ‘hieroglyphs.’ Popular writers occasionally call them ‘hieroglyphics,’ and this small error scratches at the sensitivities of Egyptologists like a fingernail on a blackboard.”

Ancient Egyptians got a lot of things right — including a love of cats, which they domesticated.

How did they feel about cats?

It’s believed that Ancient Egypt was the first place cats were domesticated. 

They were also at the center of the worship of the feline-headed deity, Bastet: “Mummified cats have been found in large numbers,” Mertz writes. “I regret to say that the majority appear to have been deliberately done in, presumably as an offering to the goddess in question. (Don’t ask me to explain the logic of this.)”

The Egyptian word for cat might have been an onomatopoeia: It’s spelled miw. “How it was vocalized we may safely leave to the imagination of any cat-owning reader,” Mertz writes, cheeky as ever. –Wally

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KEEP READING: The Sex Lives of Ancient Egyptians

Learn their views on premarital sex, children born out of wedlock, homosexuality, women’s rights and more!

The Charmingly Cluttered Egyptian Museum in Cairo

The decidedly old-school Museum of Egyptian Antiquities houses impressive collections from Ancient Egypt, including the mummies of numerous pharaohs, Amarna Period relics and the treasures of King Tut’s tomb (for now). 

Be sure to explore the peaceful park in front of the salmon-colored museum, which opened in this spot in 1902

There was simply no way I was going to miss the treasures of Tutankhamun, much less the mummies of the pharaohs. So I knew our trip to Cairo wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the landmark Egyptian Museum.

It was a dry, hot morning when Wally and I left the Kempinski Nile Hotel and walked along the Corniche — the grand boulevard that runs parallel to the Nile River. The thoroughfare was not yet car-choked, and we had to walk past armed military police as we approached the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, more commonly known as the Egyptian Museum. 

“The Egyptian Museum felt trapped in time, a bit like the decaying mansion of Miss Havisham, the jilted spinster from Charles Dickens’ novel “Great Expectations.””

The colossi of Pharaoh Amenhotep III and Queen Tiye tower above Wally (a queen shown actual size)

The Egyptian Museum’s Rough Start

The museum’s first home was established in 1863 by French Egyptologist Auguste Mariette on the banks of the Nile, in Cairo’s Bulaq district. Over time, its extensive collection continued to grow, but in 1878, one of the worst floods in Egypt’s history completely destroyed much of the building, as well as some of Mariette’s drawings and excavation documents. The artifacts were temporarily relocated to the royal palace of Ismail Pasha at Giza after the catastrophe. 

Construction on a new museum began in 1897 at its present location in Tahrir Square, an address that’s now known as the site of protests during the Egyptian Revolution of 2011, part of the Arab Spring. It officially opened its doors to the public on November 15, 1902. 

A pair of larger-than-life figures personifying the goddesses of Upper and Lower Egypt adorn the museum’s façade on either side of the entry arch

The main façade of the salmon-colored Beaux-Arts style structure features a pair of Art Nouveau female figures personifying the goddesses of Upper and Lower Egypt. The museum’s collection consists of approximately 120,000 objects — the largest assemblage of pharaonic antiquities dating from the Old Kingdom (circa 2613-2181 BCE) to the Greco-Roman Period (332 BCE-395 CE). 

We purchased our tickets, which included general admission and the two rooms of royal mummies for 300 Egyptian pounds (just under 20 bucks when we visited), plus an additional ticket for photography for 50 L.E. (about $3). 

Looking down upon the entrance, with its metal detectors

Exploring the Egyptian Museum

We made our way through the courtyard, which contains a reflecting pool with papyrus, additional stone artifacts and a monument dedicated to Mariette. Passing through the museum’s arched entrance, we paused at a security checkpoint, where we showed our tickets and placed our phones in plastic bins before entering. Make sure to look up at the sculpted keystone of the central arch with its Art Nouveau depiction of the goddess Isis, wearing the headdress of Hathor: a solar disc cradled between the horns of a cow. 

Peek behind a wall partition and you’ll see just how disorganized the Egyptian Museum is

Lose Yourself in the Cluttered Collections

The museum has two floors, each of which is arranged in roughly chronological order. Objects are displayed amongst wooden crates and errant forklifts, giving the space a transitory feel. The sprawling second floor halls are filled row upon row of glass cases haphazardly combined with cabinets of curiosities. The Egyptian Museum felt trapped in time, a bit like the decaying mansion of Miss Havisham, the jilted spinster from Charles Dickens’ novel Great Expectations. 

The section on the Amarna Period, with Akenhaten’s defaced sarcophagus in the foreground

The Good: The Androgynous Amarna Period

One of our favorite parts of the museum was the section on the Amarna Period. At the center of this collection are Akhenaten and his wife Nefertiti. Akhenaten is remembered as the “Heretic King” who abandoned traditional Egyptian polytheism in favor of the monotheistic worship of a single god, the Aten. His reign and art are referred to as Amarna because of the Beni Amran, a Bedouin tribe living in the area when his short-lived capital city was discovered by archaeologists.

The royal family shown worshipping the Aten (aka the sun) and its life-giving rays — check out those thunder thighs!

The Aten was depicted as the disc of the sun, whose rays ended in hands reaching out to touch the royal family. What we like best about the Amarna style is its sculpture, which differs radically from the rest of Ancient Egyptian art, which remained largely static for millennia. Perhaps the androgynous elongation and curved form of the colossal statues of Akhenaten and Nefertiti were meant to illustrate the transformative power of the Aten’s rays?

The unfinished yet still stunning bust of Nefertiti

Don’t miss the unfinished quartzite head of Nefertiti with the sculptor’s ink marks still intact, and take a moment to gaze upon the coffin of Akhenaten, which was defaced after his death. His cartouche (the hieroglyphic symbol with a pharaoh’s name) on the lid of the coffin was obliterated so that his spirit would be unable to return in the afterlife.

Catch the treasures of King Tut before they’re moved to the new Grand Egyptian Museum

King Tut…at Last!

The incredible Tutankhamun galleries are located on the second floor — a collection I have wanted to see ever since I was a little boy. It contains hundreds of funerary objects from Tutankhamun’s tomb, including the black jackal-topped Anubis shrine and gilded canopic shrine surrounded by the divinities of Isis, Nephthys, Neith and Selket.

A shrine to the jackal-headed god of mummification, Anubis, found in King Tut’s treasury

A gilded shrine shows a lesser-known deity, Selket, the goddess of magic, who wore a scorpion atop her head

King Tut’s iconic, dazzling golden death mask, inlaid with colored glass and semi-precious stones, is displayed in a case in a separate room, where photography isn’t permitted. You probably already know what it looks like, anyway.

Sarcophagi line the hall leading to the Mummy Rooms, where you can see the dried-up corpses of legendary kings and queens of Ancient Egypt

Mummies Dearest

The shrunken, desiccated bodies of the royal mummies, the kings and queens who ruled Egypt over 3,500 years ago, are located on the second floor and displayed in dimly lit, climate-controlled rooms, within hermetically sealed nitrogen-filled glass cases.

Despite the entrance ticket referring to “the Mummy Room,” note that there are actually two, on either side of what I’m calling the Mummy Hall — the walls are lined with what I’m assuming are original display cases stacked nearly floor to ceiling with coffins and wooden sarcophagi.

Ancient Egyptians painted coffins with the image of the person inside, so their spirit would know where to return after wandering at night

An attendant will ask for your ticket and will punch a hole in it before you enter. Patrons are not allowed to take photos inside either of these rooms. I would suggest adhering to this policy as you probably don’t want your camera or device confiscated — or worse, be asked to leave. 

Rows of figurines of gods and goddesses sit tucked away in vitrines — some labeled, some not

The Bad: Put a Label on It

The Egyptian Museum’s succession of rooms and dusty display cases preserve a Colonial Era charm, but make it difficult to guess the history and chronology of many unmarked artifacts. Signage is often dated, has indecipherable handwritten captions or is nonexistent. Perhaps with the transfer of Tutankhamun’s treasures to the Grand Egyptian Museum (GEM), the Egyptian Museum can take the opportunity to reorganize and refine its collection — though the GEM project, as of this writing, is significantly behind schedule. 

You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have — the Egyptian Museum. But the somewhat run-down state makes you feel like you’re stepping back in time

I’ve been fascinated by Ancient Egypt since I was a child, and the Egyptian Museum remains a singular experience for me — definitely one highlight among many and a must-visit for those in Cairo. –Duke

 

The Egyptian Museum can be a bit of a mess inside — but that’s part of its charm

The Egyptian Museum
Tahrir Square Rd.
Cairo, Egypt

Controversial Theories About Akhenaten, Ancient Egypt’s “Heretic King”

The monotheistic pharaoh has spawned numerous crackpot theories, including his having Marfan syndrome and Nefertiti becoming king. 

Pharaoh Akhenaten: the face that launched a thousand conspiracy theories

Everything we think we know about Ancient Egypt can be completely upended with a new discovery of something as seemingly innocuous as a single stone carving. That being said, this article focuses on the research and theories of Nicholas Reeves, in his book, Akhenaten: Egypt’s False Prophet, republished in 2019.

Reeves poses some controversial speculations about the brief but mysterious Amarna Period, jumping to sensationalist conclusions with only the scantest of evidence. I want to believe him, though, especially since he served as the director of the Amarna Royal Tombs Project from 1998 to 2002.

Does the Amarna style of art reveal a hereditary disease?

It Runs in the Family? The Marfan Syndrome Theory

Egyptian art remained remarkably static for millennia. You can picture it in your head: The side-profile carvings and paintings with their legs bent and posed one in front of the other, inspiring the Bangles’ song “Walk Like an Egyptian.” But, much like the move from polytheism to monotheism, the Amarna Period also resulted in an intriguing new art aesthetic.

The unusual Amarna style, especially the statuary, has been a major reason some Egyptologists entertain the theory put forth by Alwyn L. Burridge that Akhenaten suffered from Marfan syndrome. The illness’ symptoms do include features found on the depictions of the pharaoh and his family: slender bones, a long face, an elongated skull, spidery fingers and a wide pelvis, among others.

This depiction of Akhenaten most likely was carved early in his reign and probably reveals what he actually looked like.

If this is indeed the case, the repercussions would have been severe: Akhenaten and his offspring would have been susceptible to sudden death due to a weakened cardiovascular system and would have likely gone blind in adulthood.

It would explain a lot, argues Reeves. A report that Akhenaten wanted “to see the gods” could have meant that he could only dimly discern the rays of the sun. He was skilled in music (“traditionally a vocation for the blind,” according to Reeves). Amarna art emphasizes the sense of touch and often depicted the pharaoh with a crutch or walking stick. And at least one of the fetuses mummified in the tomb of his probable son Tutankhamun, revealed skeletal deformities.

The desecrated sarcophagus in Tomb 55 in the Valley of the Kings

The Mummy in Tomb 55

In 1907, the archeologist Theodore M. Davis uncovered what he referred to as the Tomb of Queen Tiye, or Tomb 55. He found evidence that the tomb had been discovered before, a few millennia ago: 200 years after the remains were initially interred, Ancient Egyptian workers stumbled upon the sepulcher while digging away to build the tomb of Ramesses IX. Queen Tiye, the Great Royal Wife of Amenhotep III, was moved out of the tomb, perhaps to separate her from her “heretic” son, Akhenaten.

The mummy cache found in KV55

Queen Tiye, the mother of Akhenaten

Reeves thinks there’s a good chance the remaining coffin and mummy in Tomb 55 is that of Pharaoh Akhenaten, who ruled from 1353-1336 BCE, especially given the violence of its desecration: “The names were systematically cut out, and the identifying face torn away to destroy the eyes, nose and mouth and effectively deny the king’s spirit sight, air and sustenance; for good measure a stone was hurled at the coffin’s head just before the party left,” Reeves explains. 

Kiya, who shared wifely duties with Nefertiti, was a scapegoat for Akhenaten’s questionable decisions

The Other Wife: The Mysterious and Maligned Kiya

While Nefertiti was the pharaoh’s chief wife, Akhenaten had a secondary spouse, Kiya, whom he also greatly loved, if we can infer that from the fact that she had a lavish estate of her own at Amarna. While Nefertiti gave birth to one daughter after another, Kiya is believed to have borne Akhenaten a son: the famous Boy King, Tutankhamun. 

Reeves posits that Kiya might well have been a princess of the Mitanni people. Her name essentially meant Monkey, Reeves informs us. But behind her playful façade, he says that she was “cruel and self-seeking” and “may even have been regarded, by posterity, as the evil genius behind many of Akhenaten’s excesses.”

A canopic jar with Kiya’s head upon it — other artifacts depicting her were viciously vandalized.

Her inscriptions have been scratched out, and her statues have had their eyes gouged out. References to Kiya were superimposed with figures and texts of Akhenaten’s daughters, and her coffin and canopic jars were repurposed for the pharaoh’s reburial. 

Did Princess Meritaten simultaneously give birth to her daughter and granddaughter?!

Who Says Incest Is Best?

As I’ve mentioned, Reeves loves a good conspiracy theory, and another one rears its head when discussing the historical record of Akhenaten’s progeny. Two additional daughters get mentioned: Meritaten-tasherit and Ankhesenpaaten-tasherit. The -tasherit ending equates to “Jr.,” and the first part of the names are the same as two of the pharaoh’s daughters by Nefertiti. 

Was Akhenaten a bit too fond of his daughters by Nefertiti?

“The implications of this are serious, however,” Reeves writes, “since the father of these children can have been none other than Akhenaten himself.”

Case closed?

Is this a carving of Akhenaten’s gay lover — or a woman who became his co-pharaoh?

Smenkhkare: The Unknown Pharaoh — and Akhenaten’s Gay Lover?

Confusing matters even more, a new pharaoh emerges on the scene while Akhenaten still sat upon the throne. Who was this co-regent? 

A small stele, or stone monument, from this time, made for a military officer named Pase, depicts two kings sitting side by side. One has his arm around his co-pharaoh, who is turning to affectionately touch the other’s chin. Because they’re both styled as kings, Egyptologists in the 1920s and beyond were convinced that this single stone revealed that Akhenaten was gay — never mind all the children he had. 

More recent discoveries have revealed that there’s a likely suspect right under our noses: Pharaoh Smenkhkare was probably none other than his famous wife, Nefertiti. –Wally