I’ve recently returned from the 2013 Spring Season excavations at the South Tombs Cemetery in Tell el-Amarna, Middle Egypt. Tell el-Amarna, or more simply Amarna, is the ancient Egyptian city built by the ‘heretic’ King Akhenaten, husband of Queen Nefertiti, in c. 1350 BC. Occupied for less than 20 years, Amarna is where Akhenaten broke with 2000 years of tradition to “pursue his vision of a society dedicated to the cult of only one god, the power of the sun – the Aten” (Amarna Project).
The South Tombs Cemetery is the largest of at least four known desert cemeteries at Amarna which were used by ordinary citizens. Situated in a wadi in the eastern cliffs of the city, the burials are very simple – usually comprising the body extended in a supine position (lying face up), wrapped in textile and enclosed in a mat made from plant stem or rush and then buried in a simple pit. Wood coffins and multiple burials also appear in the cemetery, but these are less common.
The purpose of the South Tombs Cemetery project is to investigate who the non-elite Egyptians were that lived at Amarna. What was their health like? Their beliefs? And, life experiences? All of these questions are gradually being answered through an integrated study of their skeletal remains and burial practices by a dedicated team of archaeologists and physical anthropologists. Since excavations started in 2006, and concluded with our latest season in 2013, a representative sample of 401 skeletons have been lifted from five different parts of the cemetery, known as the Wadi Mouth, the Lower Site, the Middle Site, the Upper Site and the Wadi End. This is less than 10% of the estimated 6000 + graves thought to exist there.
Excavating a cemetery is a constant reminder of the fragility of life, as well as how little difference there actually is between us and someone who lived 3000 years ago. One of the first burials I worked on was of a young woman, not too dissimilar in age to myself, who had a full head of beautifully braided hair and a faience beaded necklace placed over her chest. She was articulated and undisturbed, a rarity in this cemetery as I will explain shortly, and still bore traces of skin, finger and toe nails and textile wrapping. She also had very well-preserved and perfectly aligned teeth, a phenomenon I always marvel at after having had braces for many years – and which have still resulted with less than impressive pearly whites!
In order to study human remains like this, however, it is impossible to lift the skeleton in one go (mainly because the bone is too friable). Very meticulously, you need to expose the bones and lift them separately, although keeping the vertebrae together as much as possible, before placing them into trays. One complete adult skeleton, after it has been lifted, can fill three trays (not including the skull which is placed in its own box). It’s a different story for disturbed burials.
It’s always difficult, as an archaeologist, going to lift that first bone. In the case of a burial which hasn’t been touched for thousands of years, we are the first to see, smell and touch that individual. There is always that very poignant moment where you pause to think that this person was once a living, breathing being and here we are, effectively, ‘undoing’ their burial and disarticulating their body. It also gets you thinking about the extent to which the ancient Egyptians went to ensure the protection and preservation of their deceased – they didn’t develop mummification, bury their dead with grave goods and write long and elaborate texts for the afterlife only to have it all ‘dug up’ and taken away again. But, on the other hand, the ancient Egyptians wanted to be remembered. They built their most elaborate tombs and temples in stone because stone lasts forever. They also carved their greatest achievements on the exterior of tombs and temples so it could be seen by everyone.
In light of this argument, it’s always ethically much easier excavating a disturbed burial. The skeleton is already ‘undone’ and the bone is much easier to lift. In some respects, it comes as a relief then, that more than 80% of graves at the South Tombs Cemetery have been robbed, many of which probably took place not long after the time of burial.
The process of excavating a disturbed burial usually starts with finding some scattered surface bone, which is commonly very sun bleached and brittle. Further down, you’ll hit the grave cut, and sometimes also the robber’s pit, which can either be virtually empty, full of jumbled bone, or something in between. Some of this bone may still be articulated and in situ, sometimes you might even be lucky enough to still find some objects. When this bone is lifted, it might fill one or two trays, but it’s also quite common just to bag it or use a small container – as one of my colleagues did when she excavated a grave cut which contained only one, lonely metatarsal (a toe bone). For the record, finding a toe bone in a grave cut still counts as an individual and will be given the same post-excavation treatment by the physical anthropology team as every other burial!
Disturbed or not, it’s important to remember just how considered, careful and methodical our work is, as well as the fact that without archaeology, these private individuals would be lost to history. In summary, we begin an excavation by setting up our grid square. We take elevations, photograph and plan the top surface and then remove about 5-10cm of sand, sieving everything as we go. Then we repeat this process several times, documenting changes along the way and varying the quantity of fill we remove, until we eventually hit the burials. Once a burial is identified, we try to find the grave cut (that is, the original pit dug for the body in antiquity). We expose the interment, whether it be a reed mat covering or wood coffin (or, more likely, a disturbed pile of bone!), photograph and plan it and then lift the top of the interment to reveal the skeleton. We also constantly take elevations and collect and record samples of skin, hair, textile, reed, wood and any other matter present. This process is repeated on the skeleton, the bottom of the interment and the empty pit. We also make a plan of the section of the grave cut. On average, it takes about 3 days to excavate one burial – so as you can see, it’s certainly no hasty job.
But, of course, it isn’t simply the process of excavation to be pondered, but also what happens after that. In the early-mid 19th century, before a rigorous scientific approach to archaeology was introduced, a number of travellers and explorers, like Giovanni Belzoni, did the unforgiveable. Mummies were “sat on” (see Giovanni’s account here), ground down into powder for its magical, medicinal properties and sold on the black market. While these occurrences live on in some peoples’ fantasies (I’m sometimes half-jokingly called a “grave digger” by some of my friends), the reality today couldn’t be any different.
After transferring the bone to the dig house, a team of physical anthropologists come to study it (we also have a dedicated team of conservators working to consolidate finds, including coffins and other forms of interments). They reconstruct the bone to its original skeletal form and try to discern vital information about the age of the individual at death, their gender, how he/she might have died, their state of nutrition, diet, if they suffered from any diseases and so forth. Indeed, this is the type of critical information that can help to answer so many broader historical questions, especially about the ancient city of Amarna, and similarly, the non-royals who lived there. The Egyptian historical record is already unbalanced by the enormous amount of surviving material culture from the elites, yet those ordinary people have just as much of an interesting story which needs to be told.
Now that the final study season is about to get underway, and eventually all the findings published, a pertinent question remains – what will become of the bodies? A decision hasn’t yet been made on this, as it’s still a good 12-18 months until the entire post-excavation work concludes, but two potential thoughts have been circulating. The first is to create a permanent repository of the bone in Egypt so it can serve as a useful source, or benchmark, against which other human remains can be compared. Another option is to re-bury the bone in the South Tombs Cemetery. This, however, needs some further thought, especially with regards to where we re-bury them and in what conditions, how we record this information and other implications. Another potential option is to take casts of the bone first, before re-burying them – so we can still have a repository as well. But, how effective and possible would the process of taking casts be?
Finally, I do think 3000 years of separation makes the excavation of human remains ethically much more acceptable. No living Egyptian today can claim direct descendancy from any of the individuals at the South Tombs Cemetery. Similarly, there is a huge divide with religious beliefs. Egypt today is a Muslim country and while they also only bury their dead, as opposed to cremation, their belief system is very different.
So now I’d like to put it to you. What are your thoughts on the ethics of excavating human remains? And, how does this affect your view on the value of archaeology?
To find out more about the Amarna Project and to support their current and future excavations, see here.
Assistant Curator, Design and Society
Team Member, Amarna South Tombs Cemetery Project