The Forgotten Pyramids of Sudan

VTV.vn - In Sudan, in the middle of the harsh Bajrawiya desert, there are hundreds of towers containing a long history and an irresistible, silent beauty.

If someone only knows Egypt as the cradle of the pyramids, they will be surprised when they set foot in Sudan. Here, in the middle of the harsh Bajrawiya desert, I stood before hundreds of brick and stone towers rising proudly. They are not massive, not crowded with tourists, but contain a long history and an irresistible quiet beauty.

The pyramids in Sudan still quietly tell thousand-year-old stories

The mark of a brilliant civilization

I arrived in Meroe on a sultry afternoon, as the sun was about to sink below the horizon. From Khartoum, I followed a red dusty road more than 200km north. The landscape became more and more harsh as I traveled: the sands gradually softened, the sparse bushes swayed by the wind. Yet in the barrenness, towering rocks suddenly appeared – the Meroe pyramids, 2,000-year-old Kushite heritage.

The Sahara desert at sunset is quiet, only wind, sand and sharp rocks rising like arrows of time. The sharp pyramids stick straight up into the red sky, silently like ancient witnesses of a once prosperous civilization. Much smaller than Giza, but these pyramids are no less beautiful, even more proud.

Unlike the massive Egyptian pyramids, Meroe is smaller, taller and more pointed, but preserves a whole chapter of history about a kingdom that once ruled along the Nile. Built of red sandstone, the stone walls are still engraved with hieroglyphs and Meroitic characters, telling about the kings and queens who lay here, along with the exploits, rituals and religious life of the ancient Kush people. Each structure is a stone history book, preserving the mark of a brilliant but little-known civilization.

Each structure in the Bajrawiya desert is a stone history book, leaving the mark of a brilliant civilization.

Sudan has more than 200 pyramids, three times as many as Egypt, according to UNESCO, but most are deserted. International tourist arrivals have fallen by 90% since the start of the conflict. Nubian sites, including Meroe, have been placed on a “special watch” list because of their risk of deterioration. Sudan’s ancient pyramids are crying out for help amid the flames of war, the effects of climate change and antiquities theft.

I stood before Meroe - once the capital of the kingdom of Kush - and realized that it was not in Egypt but here that the forgotten pyramids told me the quietest thousand-year story.

Pride mixed with anxiety

The silence of the pyramids in Sudan hides many layers of sadness. The war in Sudan is still there, persistent and uncertain. Before the civil war broke out in 2023, this place used to have European tourists, camels taking people for walks around the sand, and children chattering to invite them to buy some copper bracelets as souvenirs. Now there are only sparse footsteps of locals, many families have left the village. A souvenir seller said that he has not sold a single item to foreigners for many months.

And even when bombs and bullets do not reach, nature continues to encroach. Sandstorms intensify, ancient bricks wear away. Wind whistles through the cracks of the pyramids, a reminder that time and humans are together eroding these vestiges.

History records that as far back as the 5th century BC, Kushite kings mobilized their entire population to shovel sand from temple entrances. Yet two thousand years later, Sudan is still struggling with the same problem, but with more intense pressure from climate change. There was hope to preserve the heritage. International projects discussed planting a “Great Green Wall” – a wall of trees stretching thousands of kilometers to block the spread of desert. Sudan still holds the longest section of this green wall. But with the country still mired in civil war, the effort remains a half-baked idea.

Sand is slowly burying the pyramids

In addition, reports of looting of antiquities have become so widespread that UNESCO issued a statement warning that “the threat to Sudan’s culture appears to have reached unprecedented levels.” The UN cultural agency called on art market professionals and the public “not to engage in the purchase, import, export or transfer of cultural artifacts from Sudan.”

I met Ahmed, a young doctor who volunteered as a guide, just before the entrance to the pyramid complex. “There aren’t many visitors here, but every time I bring someone here, I feel like I’m lighting a small candle for history,” he said. In the blazing desert sun, the pride and anxiety of a generation of Sudanese were more evident than the cracks in the ancient stone walls.

Rare foreign tourists in Sudan. Photo: Sabah

Standing in that scene, I felt both small before the greatness of the past and heartbroken by the fragility of the present. The Egyptians turned the Giza pyramids into a national symbol, while Sudan let its pyramids sink into oblivion, amidst dust and war. And I wondered, will there come a day when the wind blows away, and all that remains are flat sand dunes, and the memory of an ancient empire will only be in history books?

Without joint efforts to preserve it, Sudan will lose an irreplaceable part of its history. And then, these pyramids will no longer be a “forgotten dream”, but a nightmare of wasted heritage.

Nearly 200km north of Khartoum, amidst the vast expanse of golden sand and desert winds, the small pyramids of Meroe still rise silently like silhouettes from a distant dream. No restaurants, no hotels, no tourist noise - just sand, wind and the 2,000-year-old memories of a brilliant African civilization.

Source: https://vtv.vn/nhung-kim-tu-thap-bi-lang-quen-o-sudan-100251002150916518.htm