May you die, he who comes out of the dark, who creeps in with his nose behind him, his head averted (so as not to be seen). May he fail at his task. May you die, she who comes out of the dark, who creeps in, her nose behind her, her head averted (so as not to be seen). May she fail at her task. Did you come to kiss this child? I will not let you kiss him. Have you come to silence him? I will not let you silence him! Have you come to harm him? I will not let you harm him! Have you come to take him? I will not let you take him from me! I have provided his protection against you!
Babies can come at any time of the day or night, and Weret has made Merit aware of this at least half a dozen times. Merit’s labour pains had started while still daylight and now, hours into darkness, the moment of delivery is imminent. Weret, her aunt, who is serving the role of a midwife, is there to assist in the process, fervently coaching her patient and reciting incantations as Merit squats over several bricks in a room barely lit by a trio of oil lamps.
Along with her advice and spells, the midwife has brought along a couple of small statuettes, neither of which are, by anyone’s standards, particularly attractive. The god Bes is absolutely hideous; nevertheless, he is there to help. Depicted as a short, pudgy, ugly dwarf, his tongue fully exposed and striking an obnoxious pose, he could, it is believed, ward off evil forces during pregnancy and childbirth. The other statuette, the fertility goddess Heqet, is represented as a frog and has similar powers, and is no doubt happy with the proceedings. She has been prominently displayed in the home ever since Merit intently desired to be pregnant yet again. Heqet’s inclusion made a lot of sense: frogs do produce a great number of eggs and tadpoles, but they don’t snore, as Merit’s husband, Manu, is doing in the adjacent room after a hard day’s fishing.
The rather ugly but strong and fierce god Bes was a favourite as a protector of Egyptian households. Squat, with a mix of human and lion-like features, he was thought to drive out evil spirits. Unlike much Egyptian art, he was often portrayed with his body fully facing forward, a posture that displays his frightening features to full effect.
Weret places both of the images in a position overlooking the birth to enhance their influence. Upon discovering that she was pregnant months previously, Merit had been given a necklace by her aunt featuring a string of blue amulets in the shape of Taweret. While Bes and Heqet are certainly unattractive, Taweret with her composite features is uglier still. With the general shape of a standing pregnant hippopotamus with the legs of a lion, and crocodilian features along her back, she is perhaps the fiercest of the three protective deities, with the ability, hopefully, of repelling any and all malicious forces. Though repulsive, the trio of deities are comforting to those they watched over.
With an outcome of debatable accuracy, the ancient Egyptians had a kind of pregnancy test: wheat and barley would be placed into a cloth pouch and the woman, suspecting a baby was on the way, would urinate on it every day. If the barley sprouted it would be a boy, if the wheat sprouted it would be a girl, and if both appeared, it was a positive but undetermined outcome. If nothing sprouted, there was no pregnancy.
With years of experience, Weret continues to coach while a head begins to emerge between Merit’s thighs. She knows that there is no guarantee that the child will be born alive nor that Merit will ultimately survive the experience. Within minutes, though, an Egyptian baby is born, its cries announcing its entry into the world. It is a boy and Weret knows that both Merit and her husband Manu will be relieved: the couple already have three girls. Although helpful with the never-ending daily chores, at some time those daughters will marry and depart to have their own households, leaving even more work for Merit.
But after just a few years, this new boy would be able to learn to fish with his father, which in turn would become his own career, and contribute to his family’s well-being.
‘Nefer,’ mutters the baby’s exhausted mother. ‘Let’s name him Nefer, the good or beautiful one.’
‘Yet again,’ thinks Weret as she passes the baby to its mother. There had already been two previous boys given that name but neither had survived more than a few months. Both were buried under the floor of their house. Perhaps this one would be different and would live many long and happy years, aided by several loving and helpful children of his own. And maybe those ugly protective gods would work their magic this time. ‘Nefer,’ the midwife says. ‘It’s a wonderful name but presumptuous – surely you’re not expecting him to be both well behaved and attractive? Not likely when he smells of fish like his father! At least he won’t be a brick-maker, I suppose.’
The average ancient Egyptian, if they survived birth and childhood, might live to be thirty to thirty-five years old. There were numerous ways to die including diseases, accidents during work, or fighting the enemy. Many relatively simple maladies, including numerous infections and illnesses that can be easily treated with modern medicine and vaccinations, could be absolutely fatal. Parasites and eye diseases, which could make one’s life miserable, were not uncommon and evidence of various kinds of cancers is now being found in mummies.
Baby Nefer is arguably lucky to be born in Kemet, Weret thinks, what with its typically hospitable climate, and usual abundance of food, and a culture which provides, at least in theory, a tolerable life in the here and now, and one even better in the Afterlife. As an Egyptian, his culture is superior to those others who lived outside the land, including the Libyans to the west, Nubians to the south and Asiatics to the east – inferior peoples who could only elevate themselves to true humanity by becoming Egyptians themselves. Nefer didn’t have a bad deal, all things considered, thinks Weret.
The baby boy will be nursed for a few years by his mother, and perhaps occasionally by a relative or wet-nurse, though Weret hopes she would be spared that – she is busy enough as it is. There will be a few years of playing and running about with other children, all naked with heads shaved but for a long lock of hair on one side. But all too soon, he’ll be segued into his father’s profession, doing minor tasks at first, but then growing more adept until able to participate fully. Time will fly quickly as it seems to do and there will likely be a marriage and children, and the cycle would no doubt continue unabated for eons. Yes, a predictable – and often tough – life is in store for this little one, Weret thinks to herself, watching the baby squirm in his mother’s arms – she just hopes he survives to live it.
Writen by Donald P. Ryan in "24 Hours in Ancient Egypt", Michael O’Mara Books Limited, London, 2018. Digitized, adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.
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