The site of Meroë, which houses 140 pyramids dating back 2,400 years and listed as UNESCO World Heritage Sites, has been almost deserted since the outbreak of the war between the Sudanese army and the Rapid Support Forces in 2023 — once the most visited destination in Sudan, with up to 200 visitors per day.
Only three guardians – Moustafa Ahmed Moustafa, archaeologist Mahmoud Soliman, and young Mohamed Moubarak – now oversee this classified site, fighting against erosion and cracks in structures weakened by the destruction of the 19th century and two centuries of sand and rain.
The Kushite heritage had triggered a powerful resurgence of national identity during the 2018-2019 uprising against Omar al-Bashir — “My grandfather Taharqa, my grandmother Kandaka” chanted the protesters — before being swept away in the chaos of the civil war.
By Bahira Amin and Abdelmoneim Abu Idris Ali – Reporting from Meroë, Sudan.
Moustafa Ahmed Moustafa is the heir to a long line of guardians who have watched over the ancient pyramids of Meroë in Sudan. Today, after three years of war, he is one of the few sentinels protecting this heritage.
“These pyramids are part of us, it’s our history, it’s what we are,” says the 65-year-old man, dressed in white from head to toe, standing out against the dark structures in the necropolis of Begrawiyah, on the site known as the Royal City of Meroë, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
This funerary site, dating back 2,400 years, houses 140 pyramids built until the 4th century A.D., during the Meroitic period of the Kingdom of Kush, at the crossroads of cultural exchanges with Pharaonic Egypt, Greece, and Rome.
None of the pyramids are intact. Some are decapitated, others in ruins, dynamited in the 19th century by European treasure hunters, and eroded by two centuries of sand and rain.
Three hours from the capital Khartoum, it was once Sudan’s most visited historical destination. Today, in a country torn apart by conflict between the army and the Rapid Support Forces, only the grunt of a solitary camel breaks the silence.
“It’s probably the fourth time I’ve visited since the war began,” confides archaeologist and site director Mahmoud Soliman to journalists from AFP as he guides them around, reminiscing about the pre-war days when “there were regular weekend visits from Khartoum, entire buses, 200 people per day.” Along with Mr. Moustafa and young archaeologist Mohamed Moubarak, they guard the site, fighting as best they can against erosion.
“The Sudanese heritage had sparked a renewal of interest,” explains Mr. Soliman, following the 2018-2019 uprising against autocrat Omar al-Bashir. “My grandfather Taharqa, my grandmother Kandaka,” was one of the slogans chanted by protesters. Taharqa was one of the last Kushite pharaohs, and the Kandakas were the queens and princesses of this kingdom in the matrilineal succession, a name taken to honor the women mobilized during the revolution.
The inhabitants of the nearby village of Tarabil – pyramids in Sudanese – who sold souvenirs and rented camels, “depended entirely on the site,” Khaled Abdelrazek, 45, hurried as soon as he learned there were visitors. Squatting at the entrance, he shows journalists from AFP handmade miniature pyramids, reminiscing about the time when “we were dozens selling them.”
In the months leading up to the war, which broke out in the last days of Ramadan, there were also documentary teams, a music festival, and “big plans just after Eid al-Fitr,” recalls Mr. Soliman. “Before, I felt like I was teaching people about their culture,” says Mr. Moubarak, who has been working on the site since 2018. “Today, everyone’s top priority is food, water, and shelter, but “we must protect all of this for future generations, we cannot let this place be destroyed or degrade.”
“Far-off dream”
Near the entrance, the pyramids, in front of which stands a small temple, stand out against a landscape of black granite hills. The view is breathtaking, but Mr. Soliman sees only danger: Is this crack new? Has this sand mound moved? Should we rebuild the scaffolding at the entrance to this burial chamber before the rainy season? “If the pyramids had been left in their original state, we wouldn’t have all these problems,” believes Mr. Moubarak. The structures are smaller and steeper than their Egyptian neighbors, built to “resist sand and drain rainwater, but every crack creates problems.”
The largest pyramid, that of Amanishakheto, who ruled around the 1st century A.D., is now just an enclosure where sand and dust swirl above the buried burial chamber where the queen rested. On a wall of the entrance temple, still standing, the queen is depicted standing, larger than life, a spear in hand, striking enemy captives. Other bas-reliefs, details Mr. Soliman, feature the lion-headed deity Apedemak, Egyptian motifs, including the gods Amun and Anubis, lotus flowers, and hieroglyphs.
“This place has so much potential,” he says. “It’s just a distant dream, but I would really like us to one day carry out a true restoration of these pyramids.”
