Discerning Ancient Identity: the Case of Aashyet's Sarcophagus (JE 47267)

Home , Gebelein, Kawit (queen), Medjay, Mentuhotep (queen), Mentuhotep II, Priestess of Hathor

Journal of Egyptian History 11 (2018) 185–207

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Discerning Ancient Identity: The Case of Aashyet’s Sarcophagus (JE 47267)

Kate Liszka California State University, San Bernardino [email protected]

Abstract

Aashyet’s sarcophagus (JE 47267) offers a unique case for understanding how the intersection of a person’s identities, such as ethnicity, gender, age, or religion, is por- trayed on a funerary object within the historic and religious circumstances of a specific context. Aashyet’s sarcophagus portrays her as a wealthy, elite priestess, and the head- of-household, while being a Nubian who celebrated her non-Egyptian origins. The sarcophagus’s archaeological context also demonstrates the importance of Priestesses of Hathor within Montuhotep II’s funerary complex at Deir el-Bahri for the legitimation of his kingship before he unified Egypt, late in his reign.

Keywords

Deir el-Bahri – Medjay – women – ethnicity – 11th Dynasty – Montuhotep II – burial practice

1 Introduction

It is a great pleasure to be able to make a small contribution to a volume of the Journal of Egyptian History dedicated to the theme of ethnicity and “the other” in ancient Egypt. Over the last 20 years, more and more Egyptologists and historians have brought a multidimensional approach to the subject of identity in ancient Egypt with the aid of anthropological theory. Ethnicity is just one part of a person’s identity. Although interactions between Egyptians and non-Egyptians have historically been a topic of Egyptological discourse

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi:10.1163/18741665-12340047Downloaded from Brill.com09/28/2021 05:18:57PM via free access 186 Liszka from its beginning, most earlier studies had only looked at ethnic stereotypes, that is, how a dominant group defines other groups around them.1 Ethnicity is different from an ethnic stereotype because it is how an individual identifies him/herself. To understand how ancient Egypt worked on a multicultural level, we must look at all aspects of a person’s identity as well as his/her ethnicity in a specific place and time. Throughout its history, ancient Egypt was a multicultural place with non-Egyptians continuously interacting with Egyptians and the Egyptian government, moving to Egypt and acculturating to local Egyptian cultural standards.2 The problem for us as archaeologists and historians is that it is often difficult to focus on this multiculturalism because the extent to which non-Egyptian identity is expressed in our data changes over time and place. When the Egyptian government is highly centralized and local forms of art and burial are more standardized, the unique aspects of individuals often become minimized and lost in our data. However, at times when the Egyptian government is decentralized, as in the Intermediate Periods, unique local and often multicultural traditions are more readily apparent to historians looking from the outside in.3 Because of the skewed data, the majority of studies dealing with foreigners in Pharaonic Egypt consequently have been based on data from the Intermediate Periods. Even more problematic, the skewing of our data is directly related to the extent to which an ancient person could express his/her unique identities within the culturally reinforced decorum of Egyptian art and language. Imagine you are an ancient Egyptian purchasing an object for your burial.4 You go to craftsmen to buy something. Unless you are very wealthy, you might only be able to purchase a premade object that your name can be carved onto. Although you can express your own identity and personal interests by pick- ing an object that touches on subjects that you like, it is still a choice within a range of prescribed objects and standard inscriptions that the craftsmen were taught to make.5

1 See Smith’s discussion of topos and mimesis in this volume, 119–23. Topos is roughly equiva- lent to ethnic stereotype. 2 See among many others: Smith, Wretched Kush; Schneider, “Foreigners in Egypt.” 3 For example, the Nubian stela of Gebelein (Fischer, “The Nubian Mercenaries of Gebelein”) or the Asiatic burials at Tell el-Dabʿa (Bietak, “From Where Came the Hyksos and Where did They Go?”). 4 For a discussion of the organization and movement of craftsmen as well as the complexities of commissioning objects in the Middle Kingdom, see Oppenheim, “Artists and Workshops.” 5 This anecdote could be applicable to people nowadays, or in any society where there is a specialization of craft production for mortuary culture.

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Only if you are among the wealthiest of Egyptian elites could you afford to commission your own objects and inscriptions to suit yourself. If you are among the fortunate few who can commission tailor-made items, your unique agency and interests might find some expression, and yet the craftsmen are still bound by the standards of Egyptian art and language that they were taught. For example, an elite’s autobiography tells of his life, but it still fits into the standard literary form of the biography that the scribes knew to follow.6 It is only really in the cases where officials directly oversaw the design and work of the artists in their tombs that we start to see the individual agency related to self-identity of the official. Yet these are precious few cases. For example, the nomarch Djehutihotep commissioned a unique scene in his tomb at Deir el-Bersha of the local people erecting a colossal statue of himself.7 Nevertheless, the composition of that scene still follows the principles of Egyptian art learned by the artists who drew it. Djehutihotep’s identity, power, and control over his nome comes through in his largess of erecting a colossal statue, but because of decorum it does not tell us more about the nomarch’s cult or the people who followed it, or why he wanted to be the focus of a cult, etc. My point is that most often only the wealthiest of ancient Egyptian individuals had the ability to express their individual identities and agency during a time of centralized government in a way still visible to scholars today. But during the Intermediate Periods, when the schooling of craftsmen and scribes occurred on local levels, not reinforced by a centralized government, it was more common for individuals to express their identities because the craftsmen they hired were not as confined by artistic conventions and decorum.8 Yet identity is itself a hard thing to nail down. Ancient people, like modern people, defined themselves by a multitude of dynamic identities that fluidly changed according to the situation they were in, and that had developed from their innate and learned behaviors and beliefs. Identities are both deeply important to an individual and culturally mediated by social situations. Depending on the circumstances of each social interaction, a person can choose to stress a particular aspect of his or her identity—such as one’s age, gender, ethnicity, status, religion, nationality, or sexual orientation.9 For example, I may choose to stress that I am an educated historian while teaching at my university, or a mother when taking my daughter to swimming classes, or a tenacious and strong student while training in a karate class. All are true, but the emphasis

6 Lichtheim, “Didactic Literature.” 7 Willems, Historical and Archaeological Aspects of Egyptian Funerary Culture, 105–10. 8 Baines, High Culture and Experience in Ancient Egypt, esp. 11–17. 9 Among many others see Díaz-Andreu and Lucy, “Introduction”; Jones, The Archaeology of Ethnicity; Schneider, “Foreigners in Egypt”; Hagen, “Local Identities”; Wendrich, “Identity and Personhood”; and Smith, this volume.

Journal of Egyptian History 11 (2018) 185–207 Downloaded from Brill.com09/28/2021 05:18:57PM via free access 188 Liszka on each form of identity changes based on the circumstances. We know the same fluidity of identity was true for ancient peoples too, even though many of the aspects are often opaque to us today. For one striking example, the early Middle Kingdom priest and farmer Hekanakht projected an identity in his let- ters to his family that was different from the identity presented to a colleague in another letter. In all of his correspondence, he dynamically emphasized the fact that he was a priest, husband, father, son, landowner, farmer, and head- of-the-family based on changing needs of the situation and the person he was addressing.10 In death, one’s identity changes to what Willeke Wendrich deems the “supernatural identity.”11 For ancient Egyptians, choosing identities to present after death was a more definitive choice than the ones expressed in life because the choice lasted in perpetuity and because the perceived audience included both people who would visit their tombs and the gods. These identities are sometimes visible in the objects commissioned and created in anticipation of death. The objects can sometimes be so meaningful to a person that they can take on a “social agency” of their own,12 especially those that would have been viewed by the living in a tomb. Regardless, the objects created to reflect one’s supernatural identity were still made by Egyptian craftsmen and inevitably reinforce cultural standards, thereby limiting the study of a person’s identities from these objects. This category makes up the majority of objects that scholars have access to when studying ancient identity, thereby skewing our dataset. How should scholars study ancient identities—especially that of ethnicity— considering the problems with our evidence? I advocate that the first step in studying any type of ancient identity is to look at the context, original purpose, and audience of each piece of evidence because each situation reveals different limitations. For example, can we use the colossal images of Seti I defeating Libyans on the exterior of Karnak Temple to learn about Libyan ethnicity? These images were commissioned by the Egyptian government, based on Egyptian stereotypes drawn from the plethora of groups who lived in the Western Desert, and for the purpose of exalting Seti’s protection of Egypt for the gods (maintaining Ma‘at) while simultaneously demonstrating to the Egyptian people how grand Seti I was.13 Any critical inquiry into the context, purpose, and audience would reveal that these images can provide only a very generic stereotype about Libyan identities.

10 Allen, The Heqanakht Papyri. 11 Wendrich, “Identity and Personhood,” esp. 201. For a discussion of how one’s identities and personhood is different in death than in life, see Fowler, The Archaeology of Personhood, 79–100 and Smith, this volume 131–32. 12 Gell, Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory, esp. 16–23. 13 Robins, The Art of Ancient Egypt, 177–78.

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There is also the problem for scholars that Egyptians stereotype “the other” in their own worldview. Even when foreigners were treated in a positive light in ancient Egypt, if the images were created by the Egyptian government, they must necessarily provide a skewed picture of the foreigners’ identities. For example, Egyptian scribes created images of Puntites in Hatshepsut’s trading mission to Punt as part of the Middle Colonnade at Deir el-Bahri. The religious and propagandistic purposes of these images were to legitimize Hatshepsut’s role as king by demonstrating the quality and quantity of products that she acquired for the cult of the god Amun.14 The types of plants, houses, animals, costumes, stature, or size of the Puntites appears here to demonstrate only the exotic nature of this mission, to show to what lengths Hatshepsut would go to get products to benefit Amun. Any knowledge of who these Puntites were or where they lived is thoroughly skewed by the Egyptian perspective; the Puntites had no agency in the making of these images. The only thing that we can study is how the Egyptian government stereotypically fit the Puntites into their own worldview. Thus, I advocate that when scholars study ancient identity, they should privilege objects that were commissioned by a person who might have had the ability to make choices that reflect his or her personal identity. In these, some level of individual agency is apparent. For example, Maiherpri commissioned his copy of the Book of the Dead in his tomb; at some level he chose to be depicted as a Nubian with dark skin and short, curly hair, a physique that matches the physiognomy of his mummy.15 A study must also proceed cau- tiously, taking into account the original context, purpose, and audience of the object, the standards of decorum for Egyptian art and literature, as well as the multiple possible identities that a particular object can portray. The sarcophagus of Aashyet (JE 47267) provides an excellent case study.

2 History of Research and Historical and Religious Contexts of the Sarcophagus of Aashyet

I became interested in the sarcophagus of Aashyet because its interior depicts two unique images of Medjay women that seem instructive for the portrayal of non-Egyptian identity in Egyptian art. Because of the depiction of these Medjay women, scholars have questioned whether Aashyet herself was a Nubian now also living in Egypt (see below).

14 Harvey, “Interpreting Punt.” 15 Schneider, “Foreigners in Egypt,” 155; Smith, this volume, 127–28.

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figure 1 Photo of the exterior of Aashyet’s sarcophagus in the Egyptian Museum. PHOTO BY AUTHOR

The sarcophagus of Aashyet belongs to one of the so-called “Princesses of Montuhotep”16 at Deir el-Bahari. Each of these women had a shrine above ground and a burial beneath with a sarcophagus, coffin, and other burial goods.17 Despite the sarcophagus of Aashyet’s being discussed in several books on ancient Egyptian art, it has never comprehensively been studied or published. The shrine of Aashyet’s tomb was partly published by Naville,18 while the tomb was excavated and poorly published by Winlock.19 The photos of the two exterior lengths of the sarcophagus appear in Winlock’s publication, but no line drawing was ever made (Fig. 1).20 Wilkinson completed, but did not publish, delicate watercolors of the interior decoration which are now available to the public in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Fig. 2).21 Because of the sarcophagus’ initial poor recording and publication, Arnold and other scholars have worked to reconstruct some of the larger archaeological context, chronology, and history of Aashyet and the other women buried near her.22

16 As you will see below, none of these women were princesses. They were Priestesses of Hathor. 17 Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II.” 18 Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir el-Bahari, 6–8, pls. 14–19; Arnold, Der Tempel des Königs Mentuhotep, 64–66. 19 Winlock, Deir el Bahri 1911–1931, 37–46, pls. 8–10; Winlock, The Rise and Fall of the Middle Kingdom, 25–27. 20 Winlock, Deir el Bahri 1911–1931, pl. 8. 21 Charles K. Wilkinson painted a facsimile of the sarcophagus’ interior in Gurna in 1926. His reproductions are now part of the graphic section of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (48.105.29, 48.105.30, 48.105.31 and 48.105.32). 22 Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” Der Tempel des Königs Mentuhotep, and “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre.”

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figure 2 Watercolor facsimile of the interior of Aashyet’s sarcophagus created by Charles Wilkinson, MMA 48.105.32 and MMA 48.105.31 with the line numbers of Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, superimposed on the image. © Metropolitan Museum of Art

Nevertheless, much is still in question about this important archaeological context. Aashyet was buried in a unique and privileged context. She was one of as many as nine women buried in a row of tombs and shrines near a large shrine to Hathor at Deir el-Bahri (Fig. 3).23 This row of tombs and the Hathoric Shrine were all built during Phase B of the construction of Montuhotep II’s temple there, which is a time when he still used the Horus Name Netjeryhedjet. Several scholars have demonstrated that Montuhotep II used this name only between Year 14 and sometime between years 30–39 of his 51-year reign, when he successfully unified the country.24 It is important to emphasize that Aashyet and her colleagues were buried during the First Intermediate Period. This is a

23 Most publications talk about six women, five of whom were young adults and one who was a child. However, Dieter Arnold argued in 2015 that nine shrines and burials might have existed originally, and three of them were destroyed with the expansion of the Montuhotep complex in Phases C and D (Arnold, “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre”). 24 Arnold, Der Tempel des Königs Mentuhotep, esp. 63–67; Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 102–14.

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figure 3 Deir el-Bahri, Phase B (Based on Arnold, “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre,” 68, fig. 6). time when his Deir el-Bahri monument looked quite different from the iconic terraced temple that we see today. In addition to the shrine to Hathor, a smaller mortuary temple for the king likely existed to the west of where these women were buried (Fig. 3).25 Besides possibly the Bab el-Hosan underground passage, nothing else was built here at this time. Because this is the original context for these women, this is the context that we as scholars must consider when drawing conclusions about them. The majority of Montuhotep II’s iconic temple at Deir el-Bahri was built in Phase C, after the historic unification of the two lands. At this time, he relocated the shrine of Hathor, possibly removed the shrines and burials of

25 Arnold, “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre,” esp. Fig. 6.

Journal of Egyptian HistoryDownloaded from11 (2018) Brill.com09/28/2021 185–207 05:18:57PM via free access Discerning Ancient Identity 193 three of these women, and incorporated the remaining six women behind the pyramid base between the Pillared Hall and the West Court into his newly designed massive temple complex.26 The remaining six shrines were nevertheless preserved along the processional axis of his terraced temple-tomb and were still accessible during Phase C.27 At this time, several more women were buried in and around the temple. His wife Tem received a tomb tunnel- ing into the mountainside next to him; his sister-wife Neferu and several other women were buried in the new triangular Hathor court to the east. Thus, after the Phase C construction, the mortuary temple of Montuhotep II became a place in which a high density (over 30) of religiously significant females were buried.28 However, decades earlier when Aashyet and the other women were buried there in Phase B, they had no idea that the complex and its significance was going to alter so dramatically. As scholars looking at the identities and functions of Aashyet, one must keep the chronology and reconceptualization of the complex in mind. The six remaining shrines and burials are very similarly designed and con- structed; they seem to have been created as a group.29 In addition to objects and reliefs in the shrines and tombs, several of the tombs contained the bodies of the deceased; five of the ladies were close to 20 years of age when they died, while Mayet was a child of only five years old.30 This resemblance in the tombs’ structures and the closeness of the women’s ages at death have led some to wonder whether the women died (or were killed) at similar times too.31 Based on their demography and several other factors, Ellen Morris has suggested that they were a troupe of Hathoric khener dancers, which often included a child member.32

26 Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II.” 27 Arnold, The Temple of Mentuhotep at Deir el-Bahari, 39–45; Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 103–04. 28 Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II”; Hayes, Scepter of Egypt, 158–62; Morris, “Paddle Dolls and Performance,” esp. 77–78, 92; Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 104–09; Sabbahy, “Titulary of the Harem of Nebhepetre Mentuhotep”; Kuchman, “Titles of Queenship Part II,” 22–25; Roehrig, “Two Tattooed Women from Thebes.” 29 Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” and Der Tempel des Königs Mentuhotep, 64–66. 30 Winlock, The Rise and Fall of the Middle Kingdom, 26. 31 Morris, “Paddle Dolls and Performance,” 77–78; Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 111, 148; Winlock, The Rise and Fall of the Middle Kingdom, 26. We know that Henhenet died in child birth; a proper study of their mummies to determine how the others died was not completed. Derry did complete a preliminary study of the skeletons (Winlock, Deir el Bahri 1911–1931, 124–31), but it was not published. 32 Morris, “Paddle Dolls and Performance,” 91–92.

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figure 4 Photo of the unfinished interior of Kawit’s sarcophagus (JE 47397) and the start of a standard offering formula. PHOTO BY AUTHOR

Additionally, many of the sarcophagi in these shrines seem to be unfinished or have rudimentary decoration.33 Henhenet’s limestone sarcophagus is sim- ply inscribed with an offering formula on the exterior in accordance with other contemporary sarcophagi.34 Aashyet’s and Kawit’s sarcophagi include a rather unusual set of offering scenes and scenes of daily life carved into their exteriors.35 Yet the interior of Kawit’s sarcophagus has only an unfinished line drawing of an offering formula written in black ink around the upper rim (Fig. 4).36 Even Aashyet’s sarcophagus, with a beautifully carved exterior (Fig. 1)

33 Although this is a bit difficult to confirm because many of the shrines, sarcophagi, and objects are poorly published and scattered throughout various museums (Bourriau, Pharaohs and Mortals, 14). 34 MMA 07.230.1a, b. The interior of the sarcophagus is blank (Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir el-Bahari, 51). For information on the sarcophagus in general see Lythgoe, “Recent Egyptian Acquisitions,” 196; Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir el-Bahari, 33–56, pl. XXI. 35 Ikram and Dodson, The Mummy in Ancient Egypt, 250. 36 Egyptian Museum, JE 47397. This inscription is unpublished.

Journal of Egyptian HistoryDownloaded from11 (2018) Brill.com09/28/2021 185–207 05:18:57PM via free access Discerning Ancient Identity 195 and a beautifully painted interior (Fig. 2), has an incomplete interior end panel that looks as if a few more objects should be added into the blank space of the frieze (MMA 48.105.30). Thus, great care went into the initial building of these shrines and objects, but they came to hasty stopping points, perhaps because the women died before the grand designs could be completed. This information may support the idea that all the women were buried at approximately the same time, because it seems like a lot of the sarcophagi were stopped in the middle of construction or purposely finished with a simpler design that would have taken a fraction of the time to complete. The majority of research on these women concerns their titles. Although the five-year-old Mayet has no titles, the same titles appear or can be reconstructed for the other five females. The more prominent titles that occur several times in their shrines and burial chambers are ẖkr.t-nsw wꜤty.t, Sole Ornament of the King, and ḥm.t-nṯr Ḥw.t-Ḥr, Priestess of Hathor. These titles represent the primary function of these women during life and death. During the late Old Kingdom and early Middle Kingdom, Priestesses of Hathor were integral to the ideology and perpetuation of kingship.37 These positions were often held by elite members of the court or members of high ranking families throughout Egypt.38 Several important male officials at this time purposely married Priestesses of Hathor.39 However, Priestesses of Hathor traditionally did not marry the Pharaoh.40 This fact makes the third title that these women held quite puzzling. In addition to the more prominent titles, Priestess of Hathor and Sole Ornament of the King, found on all of their objects, in one location in their aboveground shrines, each holds the title ḥm.t-nsw, King’s Wife. This title is corroborated with intimate scenes of the king embracing each woman in her shrine.41 This combination of royal, non-royal, and religious titles for elite women is fairly unique and did not otherwise exist in the Old Kingdom.42 Moreover, scholars have not known what to make of the fact that the title King’s Wife seems to be subordinate to that of Priestess of Hathor and have suggested that they were wives only in rituals where the king represents Min,43 or that they were

37 Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” 216–18, 225–26. 38 Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” esp. 222. 39 Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” esp. 228–30. 40 Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” in passim, esp. 231–32. 41 Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 110–11; Bourriau, Pharaohs and Mortals, 17; Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” 232. 42 Sabbahy, “Titulary of the Harem of Nebhepetre Mentuhotep,” 164. 43 Sabbahy, “Titulary of the Harem of Nebhepetre Mentuhotep,” esp. 165.

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“potential queens,”44 or that they were the lesser wives on occasion.45 Although scholars disagree about these women’s marital relationships with the king, they do agree that their primary occupation in life and death was as Priestesses of Hathor.46 I might suggest that they received the title King’s Wife, only in their visible aboveground shrines, in order to better align with the decorum of Egyptian royal architecture. In the Old Kingdom, only wives, mothers, and daughters were buried in or near royal funerary complexes. Perhaps, each of these women received a nominal title of King’s Wife so that their burial near the king could be justified. And yet their title Priestess of Hathor was more important to the greater religious significance of Deir el-Bahri and the rela- tionship that Montuhotep wanted to emphasize between himself and the goddess Hathor. As Priestesses of Hathor, it makes sense that their burials occurred at Deir el-Bahri because the cliffs of Deir el-Bahri were sacred to the goddess Hathor, perhaps even as early as the Old Kingdom.47 During the middle part of his reign (years 14-unification), Montuhotep II also emphasized his special connection with the goddess Hathor, calling himself the Son of Hathor, and building at many areas sacred to her in Egypt, including Deir el-Bahri, Gebelein, and Dendera.48 Hathor’s cult had an international aspect because of the journey that the goddess makes in the myth of Hathor and the Solar Eye. And Egyptians tried to incorporate this international aspect into the art for Hathor and the worship of her cult. For example, at his chapel in Dendera, Montuhotep II shows himself unifying the entire world for Hathor, including “uniting Upper and (Lower Egypt), Medja-land, Wawat, the Libyans, the marshes.”49 Horváth has also demonstrated that foreigners were part of the cultic entourage of Hathor;50 at Lahun the Hathor cult sought out non-Egyptians to play roles in

44 Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, esp. 112–13. 45 Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” 231–32; Bourriau, Pharaohs and Mortals, 14; Robins, “Pre- unification Theban style,” 40 n.11; Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” 94. 46 Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles, 110–12; Sabbahy, “Titulary of the Harem of Nebhepetre Mentuhotep,” esp. 165; Kuchman, “Titles of Queenship Part II,” 22, 25; Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” 94. 47 Pinch, Votive Offerings to Hathor, 3–6; Arnold, Der Tempel des Königs Mentuhotep, 83–84; Arnold, “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre,” 59–60. 48 Pinch, Votive Offerings to Hathor, 4–5l; Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt, 18–23. 49 Habachi, “King Nebhepetre Menthuhotp,” 19–28; Gillam, “Priestesses of Hathor,” 231; Marochetti, Chapel of Nebhepetre Mentuhotep at Gebelein, 11. 50 Horváth, “Hathor and her Festivals at Lahun,” 139–40.

Journal of Egyptian HistoryDownloaded from11 (2018) Brill.com09/28/2021 185–207 05:18:57PM via free access Discerning Ancient Identity 197 rituals, and some of them became priests.51 Foreigners may have been active among her priesthood during the reign of Montuhotep II as well. In addition to this line of research, other scholars have tried to incorporate these Priestesses of Hathor into the history of Egypt and Nubia during the 11th Dynasty. Unfortunately, these scholars rarely consider the women’s titles and archaeological context. Instead, they look primarily at the facts that several images of three of these women (Aashyet, Kemsit, and Kawit) are painted black and that some of the skeletons may have displayed African cranial fea- tures. They surmise from these that the women were Nubian.52 Because some seem to be Nubian and because they held the title King’s Wife, some scholars have posited that they were married to the king as part of a diplomatic mar- riage which supposedly aided reunification.53 However, this interpretation is slightly short-sighted because the burials date to Phase B, prior to unification and because the women’s primary functions were as Priestesses of Hathor rather than as Wives of the King. While some of these women could still have been Nubians living in Egypt, it is unlikely that they served a greater political purpose within the wars of the First Intermediate Period. Thus, while the research to date has produced unsatisfactory results, its shortcomings reinforce the belief that the original context, purpose, and historical circumstances of Aashyet’s sarcophagus is vital for understanding the identities Aashyet presented in its depictions. Moreover, Aashyet’s various personal identities have been important to the larger narratives for the First Intermediate Period and the beginning of the Middle Kingdom. Aashyet is consequentially a very interesting person to consider closely.

3 The Sarcophagus of Aashyet

It seems that Montuhotep II had a personal hand in designing the larger context of Phase B at Deir el-Bahri, given the uniformity among all of the aboveground shrines and their locations. The parts of the complex that would have been visible to people for years to come obviously received more oversight from the king, including more scrutiny about their design within the larger complex.

51 Medjay and Aamu lived at Lahun and were priests in the temples (Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, esp. 26–29, 94; Liszka, From Pastoral Nomads to Policemen). 52 Winlock, Deir el Bahri 1911–1931, 124–31; Fischer, “Nubian Mercenaries,” 76. 53 Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien, 55 n.3; Michaux-Colombot, “Qui sont les Medjay,” 83 n.6; Winlock, Deir el Bahri 1911–1931, 130; Zibelius-Chen, “Medja,” 20–21. Posener and Kemp argue against this notion: Kemp, “Old Kingdom–Second Intermediate Period,” 79; Posener, Littérature et Politique, 47–48.

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Nevertheless, Aashyet herself must have had input into the commissioning and designing of her own sarcophagus. The religious and historic situation was just right for her to do so, and it is unique when compared to other sarcophagi. Moreover, it includes personal information that would be important to her (see below). This sarcophagus was buried in the belowground tomb; after her funeral, no one other than her ka should have seen it. The intersection and balance of her identities in it seem only possible as a result of Aashyet’s having had personal input into its design. In general, the sarcophagus shows scenes of daily life that are often otherwise found on the walls of tombs. There are scenes of butchering cattle, milking cattle, feeding cattle, storing grain in granaries, and providing goods for the ka of Aashyet in the afterlife through offerings, on offering tables and before the false door.54 Several scholars have pointed out how these scenes of daily life may also invoke the cult of Hathor because of its emphasis on milking cattle, baby calves suckling their mothers, and the appearance of mir- rors.55 Arnold has also hypothesized that the door to the contemporary Hathor shrine is depicted on these sarcophagi and in the aboveground shrines of these priestesses.56 Thus, even though the images on the sarcophagus seem to be more in line with tomb decoration, they subtly invoke Aashyet’s connection with Hathor and her identity as a Priestess of Hathor. However, these identities were not the most important for her to commemorate. The inscriptions and images of the other individuals point to a more dynamic balance of her identities. Inscriptions carved onto the exterior and painted on the interior include standard offering formulae in addition to the names and titles of Aashyet. These inscriptions also include the names of many other people depicted on the sarcophagus in both hieroglyphs and hieratic. These seem to be specific individuals that Aashyet knew well and wanted to incorporate onto her sarcophagus for eternity. Thus, Aashyet’s agency comes through in the choice of which people and items appear on the sarcophagus. The interior of the sarcophagus is particularly telling about whom from her household she wanted to include with her in the afterlife (Fig. 2):57

54 Dodson and Ikram, The Tomb in Ancient Egypt, 190–91. 55 Dodson and Ikram, The Tomb in Ancient Egypt, 190; Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” 99. 56 Arnold, “Temple of Mentuhotep Nebhepetre,” 59–60. 57 For the lines that were originally written in hieroglyphs, only the transcription and trans- lation occurs. I have also transcribed lines written in hieratic. The numbers correspond to the transcription from Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 28–29.

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28ξ.1 ẖkr.t-nsw wꜤty.t ḥm.t-nṯr Ḥw.t-Ḥr nb.t ’Iwn.t wr.t m kꜢ.w=s ḫnty.t m sw.t=s ḥsy.t n.t Ḥw.t-Ḥr ꜤꜢšy.t mꜢꜤ.t-ḫrw Sole Ornament of the King, Priestess of Hathor, Lady of Dendera, Great one in her kas, Foremost of her Seats, Favorite of Hathor, Aashyet, True of Voice 28ξ.2 šs mḏꜢ.t-nṯr mry ḥnw.t ’In-(ı̓)t=f mꜢꜤ-ḫrw Scribe of the Divine Book, Beloved of his Mistress, Intef, True of Voice 28ξ.4 ı̓mꜢḫy.t ’Ipı̓ Honored One, Ipi (likely same individual as in 29π.5 and 27λ.2)58 28ξ.5 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n Ꜥfty Ḥtpı̓ for your ka by the brewer Hetepi59 28ξ.6 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n MḏꜢy.t Fdty.t for your ka by the Medjay Fedetyt 28ξ.7 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n MḏꜢy.t Mkḥn.t for your ka by the Medjay Mekhenet 28ξ.8 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n ’IbhꜢ.t for your ka by Ibhet (same as 29o.2)

29o.1 sš.t Sn.t-’In-(ı̓)t=f 60 (Female-)Scribe,61 Senet-Intef (same as 29π.4 and 26ζ2)

58 She also appears on the exterior of the sarcophagus, see Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 27λ.2. 59 He also appears on the exterior of the sarcophagus, see Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 27κ. 60 For this reading see Goedicke, “A Comment Concerning Cairo JE 47267,” 67–68. She also appears on the exterior of the sarcophagus, see Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 26ζ2. 61 As opposed to cosmetician, see Goedicke, “A Comment Concerning Cairo JE 47267.”

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No # 62 Ꜥfty WꜢı̓..(?) Brewer, Way(?) 29o.2 ’IbhꜢ.t Ibhet (same as 28ξ.8) 29o.3 sš.t ’Ikw (Female-)Scribe Ikw 29π.1 ẖkr.t-nsw wꜤty.t ḥm.t-nṯr Ḥw.t-Ḥr ꜤꜢšy.t Sole Ornament of the King, Priestess of Hathor, Aashyet 29π.2 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n Ꜥfty Ny-nsw for your ka by the Brewer Ny-nsw63 29π.3 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n sš.t Nb=ı̓-ḥtp for your ka by the (Female-)scribe Nebyhetep 29π.4 sš.t Sn.t-’In-(ı̓)t=f (Female-)Scribe, Senet-Intef (same as 29o.1 and 26ζ2) 29π.5 n kꜢ=ṯ ı̓n ’Ipı̓ for your ka by Ipi (likely same as 28ξ.4 and 27λ.2)

Based on the standardization of the paleography in the hieratic script, it seems that the same scribe wrote the names and titles of each of these individuals on the interior. The interior hieroglyphs are written in a black outline with green fill, and all but one of the hieratic names and titles are written in black ink. Exceptionally, the Brewer, Way(?)’s name (no number) appears in hieratic written in the same green ink that is used to paint the rest of the vignette. One may deduce that the same artist who painted the interior may have written

62 This transcription is uncertain, but possible, according to Wilkinson’s watercolor of the scene (Fig. 2; MMA 48.105.31). However, the hieratic is written in green rather than black ink and fades at the end of the name. Clère and Vandier (Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire) did not notice this inscription and did not copy it into their publication. 63 Contra Goedicke’s reading (“A Comment Concerning Cairo JE 47267”). This individual also appears twice on the exterior of the sarcophagus, see Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 27ι.2 and 26η.2. In 26η.2, Ny-nsw offers Aashyet sweet beer.

Journal of Egyptian HistoryDownloaded from11 (2018) Brill.com09/28/2021 185–207 05:18:57PM via free access Discerning Ancient Identity 201 the names in hieratic because he forgot to change the color of his brush before writing this person’s name. From the collection of titles that occurs for these individuals, including people like scribes, brewers, and the overseer of the house (27µ2), the tableau depicts people who worked for Aashyet’s household as a large economic unit. The titles fit well with the images on the exterior of the sarcophagus of beer being given to Aashyet in the afterlife and several images of granaries. These titles have nothing to do with Aashyet’s role as a priestess. Rather they relate to her identity as an elite and wealthy individual who may have overseen a complex household of people on her own.64 She would have been wealthy enough to commission her own sarcophagus design. The wealth and status of Aashyet’s identity are also emphasized by the number of scribes who worked for Aashyet. Just on the interior of the sarcophagus, four different scribes are named and depicted, and three of these scribes are female! Moreover, the name and image of the female scribe Senet-Intef appears in three different places. Although the scribes are named often in the inscriptions, only the image of the male Scribe of the Divine Book, Intef, car- ries the icons of a scribe, such as a writing board and palette. This is opposed to the female-scribes who are labelled scribes in their hieratic titles, but their images fall in line with that of generic women, and they do not carry icons of a scribe. Instead, the images of the female-scribes offer Aashyet’s ka objects for her afterlife like a fan, food, mirror, jars, or boxes of household objects. This discrepancy makes it seem like Aashyet is balancing two different parts of her identity on this sarcophagus: her friends and household live on in the names while her ka is still receiving the offerings required for the afterlife. The individuals that Aashyet is depicting on her sarcophagus must be people who were part of her household for whom she had a particular affin- ity because some women appear multiple times. They are therefore not just stereotypical characters chosen to fill expected roles in funerary imagery. The Female-Scribe Senet-Intef occurs three times, the Honored One Ipi occurs three times, and Ibhet appears twice. Ipi and Ibhet, moreover, appear multiple times despite the fact that they are not given a title. Apparently, there is no reason for them to appear on the sarcophagus other than that Aashyet wanted them to be there. The women Senet-Intef, Ipi, and Ibhet must have had special relationships with Aashyet as her friends and confidants. Despite the number of women who appear on the sarcophagus, no one is identified as a family member of Aashyet. Lack of all family members is strange.

64 Winlock suggested originally that these images represent the households of the women; see Winlock, The Rise and Fall of the Middle Kingdom, 26.

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Although this is an argument from silence, can we hypothesize that Aashyet was a single, wealthy and powerful woman without an immediate family? At the very least, she did not consider them as important as her friends and confidants to include in her afterlife setting. This lack of family on a personalized sarcophagus may actually point to Aashyet being of foreign origin; perhaps she left her biological family when she moved to Egypt. Another aspect of Aashyet’s identity that scholars frequently debate is whether or not she and the other people on this sarcophagus are Nubians. The argument that they are Nubian is typically that Aashyet, as well as two other women identified as Medjay, are painted with black skin and short curly hair in contrast to other women depicted with the traditional yellow-painted skin and long black hair.65 Because the artist purposely juxtaposed the two sorts of women in same image, it is likely that skin color is a significant marker of non-Egyptian ethnicity in this case.66 Additionally, Ashyet’s name is written phonetically and is not of Egyptian origin.67 Aashyet is likely of Nubian heritage, but she acculturated to Egyptian standards for art, religion, and the organization of her household. Yet at some level, because Aashyet also had a say in commissioning this sarcophagus, she took the opportunity to express her pride in her Nubian heritage. The emphasis on her non-Egyptian origins may be significant because of the cult of Hathor. As a Priestess of Hathor, a non-Egyptian origin would allude to the international journeys of the goddess. Aashyet was likely celebrated for being Nubian during the Hathoric rituals, and thus she chose to preserve this aspect of her identity in death as well. In addition to Aashyet, it is likely that both the Medjay Federtyt and the Medjay Mekhenet are non-Egyptians. They are both depicted stereotypically as Nubians, they are marked by the ethnonym Medjay, and their personal names are related to the Tu-Bedayue language once spoken in the Eastern Desert.68 It is important to note that these two Medjay women appear only once on the sarcophagus as opposed to Ipi, Ibhet, and Senet-Intef, and thus

65 Fischer, “Nubian Mercenaries,” 76; Petacchi, “Medjay People in Egypt,” 312–13; Michaux- Colombot, “Qui sont les Medjay,” 83; El-Sayed, Afrikanischstämmiger Lehnwortschatz, 176– 77. Other scholars have argued against them being Nubian despite the opposition in skin color, cf. Meurer, Nubier in Ägypten, 113; Bourriau, Pharaohs and Mortals, 14–16; Arnold, “The Tombs of the Queens of Mentuhotep II,” 97. 66 The color of a person’s skin on an ancient Egyptian object is not always a marker of ethnicity. Scholars must take the context of each object into consideration before deciding whether or not skin color is relevant in that particular image. 67 El-Sayed, Afrikanischstämmiger Lehnwortschatz, 176–77. 68 Zibelius-Chen, “Medja in altägyptischen Quellen,” 396; El-Sayed, Afrikanischstämmiger Lehnwortschatz, 198, 211–12.

Journal of Egyptian HistoryDownloaded from11 (2018) Brill.com09/28/2021 185–207 05:18:57PM via free access Discerning Ancient Identity 203 seem not as important as the other women who were depicted multiple times. They are likely not Aashyet’s kinswomen, and their appearance does not imply that Aashyet is a Medjay69 as opposed to a different type of Nubian. Beyond skin color, there are other indications that these and additional members of Aashyet’s household may have had non-Egyptian origins as well. Everybody whose name is written in hieratic—except for the Medjay Federyt— is determined with a fallen man determinative, . One would assume that this determinative represents a foreigner in this particular context and acts as a throw stick determinative normally would to hint that the person may be of foreign origin.70 However, this use is quite peculiar here. People who are depicted in the art stereotypically both as Egyptians and Nubians are marked with this determinative. Three different scribes who can clearly read and write in Egyptian are marked with this determinative. It is unclear how to interpret this data. A possible, but improbable explanation is that everyone who worked for Aashyet was a foreigner who was acculturating to Egyptian standards. That would be a strange elite Egyptian household. As another indication of foreign ethnicity, one of the members of Aashyet’s household, mentioned twice on the sarcophagus, is named Ibhet. This is typically not a personal name, but rather the name of a sub-region of Medja-land located in the Wadi Allaqi,71 and thus may indicate where she originated.72 Her name is also written with the determinative of the fallen man, . However, both depictions of Ibhet are clearly painted yellow, thus stereotyping her as an Egyptian woman, unlike the two women labeled Medjay who are painted black. If Ibhet were a Nubian from Medja-land, why wouldn’t she be stereotypically painted black as well? Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence is plentiful enough to indicate both that Aashyet did celebrate her non-Egyptian origins and that additional non-Egyptian connections of some of the members of her household is possible too.

69 Michaux-Colombot, “Qui sont les Medjay,” 83; El-Sayed suggested that she was a Medjay because her name may be related to the Tu-Bedauye language (Afrikanischstämmiger Lehnwortschatz, 176–77). 70 Allon, “At the Outskirts of a System,” 1–17. 71 Zibelius, Afrikanische Orts—und Volkernamen, 74–75; El-Sayed, Afrikanischstämmiger Lehnwortschatz, 140–43. 72 Michaux-Colombot, “Qui sont les Medjay,” 83.

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4 Conclusion

Aashyet’s sarcophagus gives a balanced expression of her identities as a foreigner, a Priestess of Hathor, a female, the head of an elite household, and a wealthy and powerful person during the reign of Montuhotep II. It was obviously important for Aashyet to maintain these identities and the networks with her household for all of eternity on her sarcophagus hidden in her underground tomb. Montuhotep II, on the other hand, showed an interest in Aashyet and the other women merely because they were Priestesses of Hathor. The above ground layout of their tombs, their locations, and their shrines, all played into his use the cult of Hathor for the legitimation of his kingship. This religious conceptualization on the landscape took one form in Phase B. However, after Montuhotep II reunified the country in Phase C, he seems to have up-scaled the entire project. He added more women and created the iconic temple that scholars have studied for years, placing these priestesses right on the central axis of his pillared hall. Yet, because he destroyed three of the nine shrines of these women during Phase C for his reconceptualization, it is likely that the individual women in the tombs did not matter to him. They were not actually his wives. What mattered was their symbolic connection as Priestesses of the goddess Hathor. In his reconceptualization of the temple, six women would continue to fulfill that role, Aashyet being one of them, for eternity.

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