2.5 - The Floodwaters
The Medjays - An Interlude
The end of the harvest came at last, all grains reaped and the stalks gathered. A last walk over the entire area gleaned during the harvest yielded very modest returns, particularly as the encroaching waters devoured more land.
A workday came that ended very early. The workers were dismissed to return to their homes or, for men like Shabaka and Joseph, to the camp.
Shebaka returned to the workers’ makeshift camp. Joseph desired to go back to where the water flowed so freely down the canal from the Nile to the lake.
This was not the rippling water of Canaan’s countryside, but the never ending flow of water sang like some ancient rhythm to his heart, calling him closer.
Joseph sat on the edge of life flowing through the desert, hypnotized by the water’s swirling dance and subtle music.
At last he glanced into the flat distance beyond the canal. From here he could see a makeshift village, not unlike those of nomads such as Joseph’s own family.
Joseph saw that the people of the encampment all had the same dark skin as Shabaka. Their tents were not that different from those in Canaan, except perhaps even more colorful and open. And in the distance there were cattle with huge horns. Indeed, these horns looked like deadly weapons.
The scene was so foreign he thought for a moment that perhaps this was a mirage, the vision of what is not real that sometimes occurs in the desert. The easiest way to determine the reality of what he saw was to move toward it.
As he approached the camp, three men came out to him, two carrying long bronze-tipped spears. Joseph felt this was less a greeting than a warning, but he resolved that they could not view one lone man approaching as a sincere threat.
From a distance, he gave a greeting in Egyptian flavored with the remaining notes of his eastern accent. The eldest of the three, flanked by his guards, responded in kind, an Egyptian speech with another accent reminiscent of what Joseph had noted in Shabaka’s speech.
Within a moment, Joseph stood face to face with men who seemed warriors as much as herdsmen. He introduced himself as Joseph, a slave of Captain Potiphar of the king’s house.
The man in the center identified himself as Balo, a Medjay of the southern lands.
Balo quickly assumed the offensive. “Why are you in the land of nomads and their cattle?”
Overlooking the fact that they were actually still on the king’s property, Joseph replied, “I am assigned to the harvest of the king’s crops. I am new to Egypt and to farming, and am learning of its river and its seasons as I labor for my owner.”
The elder nomad gave a wry smile. “Then you are not being sent to the copper or tin mines, and you are not a farmer. So, what are you good for?”
Joseph laughed at Balo’s bluntness. “You are right, I am fortunate not to be a slave intended for the mines. My experience in the east was with sheep. Perhaps the captain will have uses for me beyond digging ore or planting vegetables.”
Balo gave a snort of disgust as he repeated, “Sheep!” But then he returned with that slightly crooked smile, “Indeed, there is one better use for you beyond sheep and farming - cattle!
“But for now, come and tell us the news from your people.”
Less an invitation than a command, Joseph was surrounded by the three men as they turned toward their tents.
In the midst of their encampment, in spite of the heat of the day, a small fire was keeping warm a kettle set to the side. In the shade of one tent, several women talked excitedly in a strange language as they worked on some material, perhaps clothing.
Balo gestured for Joseph to sit on a mat near him in the shade of a tent awning. One of the two companions went to the women, evidently directing one of them to provide Balo and the stranger with cups of the liquid kept warm by the fire.
Joseph had seen several tents, perhaps twenty people, and now had a better view of the herd of large horned cattle grazing nearby.
After they were seated, a woman brought two cups of the warm brown liquid.
Balo raised his cup toward Joseph. “This drink is from the leaves of a plant from our homeland. It is reputed to give long life. We add a bit of honey that the long life may be less bitter than sweet.”
Balo took a sip and smiled, waiting for Joseph to drink.
Joseph obediently raised his cup. “To your long life, and may it be sweet.”
He took a sip. There was an underlying bitterness almost masked by the honey, but the overall taste was pleasant. His body received the sweet warmth with pleasure in spite of the growing warmth of the sun.
“So you are Joseph, a slave, a shepherd who now must farm the land. How do you like your new job?”
The tone of the question implied a negative answer, even held some derision in its tone, but Joseph was not going to give the man such an easy victory.
“I find that whether I serve a herd or serve the land, that God gives me the increase.”
“You speak of your God as if he is the only one, and that you are in his favor. You are no longer in the land of your God but in the land of the gods of Egypt! How can you say that you are blessed?”
“God honors those who honor Him, and He is not restricted to a place. Of course, other men may not honor me, and that is to their detriment just as it is my wrong if I do not honor them. He would have each of us to be His favorite.” He raised his cup to Balo and took another sip.
Balo raised his cup to Joseph in response and took a sip, also.
“You talk like a free man instead of a slave, a nomad instead of a farmer.”
“I am free to think as a living man, and if the land I roam is smaller, yet I am still rooted in its soil and God has made me at one with the life upon it.”
“You speak bravely for a man with only one God.”
“And would a multitude of pieces of carved stone and wood be greater than the Creator who sculpted them? No, I think not. The question behind the question of a multitude of gods is who made each one?
“And if they were made by men, then what power do they have?
“But when they are put beside the God who created all, the God who is larger than His creation, these gods are but dumb stone and wood, lifeless images.”
“You have given me much to think about concerning your God, young Joseph.” The Nubian was indeed well beyond Joseph in years and gave emphasis to the fact. Joseph took the lack of a question, actual or implied, to be his opportunity to ask questions.
“Are you from Nubia?”
“We are from Nubia, but we are not Nubians. We are called Medjays,” said Balo. “We are noted as excellent soldiers, as well as herders of the best cattle. We have no allegiance to the Nubians since they do not like our cattle on what they call their land.
“Because we have little allegiance to Nubia, we offered information to your king in return for a small payment. We came here after this and have resided near the water here in the Fayum. As nomads, our wealth is in our people and our livestock.
“And cattle require land to roam! Tell me, who is it that can claim to own the land?” His words were a statement that did not expect an answer.
The Medjay continued, “The land is for all, and the nomad is the way of life intended for mankind. We are not to imprison people in cities or to chain them to the plants of the field. Do you not agree?”
Balo showed great passion in his brief speech. Whether this was genuine, or simply a desire to win a point after the previous discussion, Joseph did not know.
As a shepherd, Joseph could empathize with Balo’s position. The short speech was almost a lament, a defense of a way of life that had been idealized and must someday reach its limitations.
Nomads roamed freely without higher human authority. They did not accumulate material goods that must be carried from place to place. They did not enslave or imprison. Life was a freedom within the rhythm of the seasons rather than enslavement to that rhythm.
The world’s growing number of people could not all be wanderers. And yet there was something that was almost sacred in this freedom that was being curbed, a sense of increasing restriction by those who accumulated wealth and power.
Joseph thought of Teyma, a man not a nomad and yet the person who most embodied freedom in Joseph’s mind. Even Teyma was operating in a rhythm of seasons and relationships. Those merchants in Memphis, the fishermen on the river, and all others he had met on his strange odyssey - all were part of some vast web including nature and mankind.
A single life was like a rough flaxen thread and a fine linen thread, twisted and knotted together in a bindle with innumerable other strands of varying types, each distinct yet inseparable. The rough desire for life, a determination to make a way in the world, was paired with the necessity for honoring other lives – plant, animal, and human – and encouraging the contribution of those others for that better life.
Each person found a place in a different set of laws and restrictions. Both nature and mankind established rules and boundaries. Nature’s rule was inescapable, and some balance between men’s additional restrictions was inevitable.
All of this passed through Joseph’s mind in a shorthand that required only a split second. His previous comments and what sprang to mind now were the culmination of these months in the crucible of change, the summation of what experience had taught him until this moment.
“You are fortunate to have found your freedom in this life that you lead, Balo. May we all be content to do the work that is in our hands!
“If we could fill the earth with nomads herding their cattle – or sheep – you and I would do well!
“But God has given us a larger world and a variety of people. What of those who have the talent for making the cups like we hold?” Joseph lifted his empty cup.
“Or those who weave the cool linen or sturdy flax that we wear?” Joseph tugged at his cloak and added, “Even your clothing is not all leather.
“And what of the jeweler who makes the amulet you wear on your neck and forms the rings your wife wears on her fingers and arms?
“From where would we get these things of value?”
Balo gave his wry smile. His dark eyes were now focused, fixed on Joseph. The whites seemed to illuminate the dark iris, opening the old man’s inner being to Joseph’s steadfast gaze.
The old man did not respond to Joseph’s speech but jumped to the thread of his own thoughts.
“I see a purpose for you, Joseph the shepherd. You will improve the flow of water from the Nile.”
Pointing a thin black arm toward Lake Fayum, he continued, “You will make the canals to flow into the fields other than the king’s land. You will give the farmer and the herdsman fields of abundance.”
The old man’s dark eyes turned toward the Fayum and the people scattered in and around its large borders.
“The people there are so poor they have nothing to trade! They eat what they grow and have nothing with which to buy meat and milk. The water is available. Bring it to them! Let the land and these people flourish!”
Joseph waited for Balo to continue, but the Medjay left his words hanging in the air, requiring a response.
“I see that the canal to Lake Fayum has brought great wealth to the people of the region. The water rises and falls. The lake grows large and has been for the benefit of all. What more is to be done?”
Joseph’s response showed the Medjay the limitation of the young man’s knowledge. The question offered the Medjay the opportunity to rise to the challenge with a solution.
“You are young, are you not? Your king has done much to serve his own lands.
“I have seen the pyramids of your kings, massive structures of stones that took the labor of thousands of men to build over many years. You spend your labor on death instead of life, on tombs for the dead instead of meat for the living.
“Let your people build ditches in the earth instead of raising stones to heaven. Let them spread water, and not war. Let them honor life and not death!”
The passion in the old man’s speech was stirring, but Joseph declined the battle.
“You know this is not the decision of such a lowly servant as I, Balo.”
Balo’s stance was still that of a fighter, squared off toward his opponent and ready for the first blow.
“But what of your God, Joseph? Does He not desire the best for His creation?”
Joseph was impressed at how quickly Balo had understood the concept of a single omnipotent God. And the old black man had used it to force Joseph to reconcile the present circumstance with an almighty God.
“I bow to your wisdom, Balo,” a concession for which he knew the old man hungered. And, indeed, Joseph was faced with a question similar to the one he had faced at the bottom of the well, as well as at other times on this strange journey.
Yes, it was a strange journey. There were pits and dangers, uncertainties and confrontations, but each one was necessary for whatever path was set before him.
“I am first the servant of God, and then I am the servant of the man who has paid for me. He bought me from the man who had ransomed me from death, so I owe a great debt.
“If God desires that the land be rich, then it will be as you say. If God desires that I play some role, no matter how small or large, then it will be as He directs.”
“I like you, Joseph, the servant.” The old man smiled, showing a mouth full of still very strong teeth. “You are still young and strong, but this land offers you nothing.”
The old man’s smile was now disappearing as he continued. “In five years, you will be as gaunt as the stalks the harvest leaves behind. You will be bent over like the fronds hanging from the palm trees. And you will be hungry every day of your life, working to provide another man’s bread.”
There was some truth in the Medjay’s words. A man of 25 in the fields was not as strong as the man of 50 with his herd. A man of 40 in the fields was rare, few of that age still alive, but a man of 70 with his herd often was yet virile with years ahead of him.
The old man continued. “You ate of my meat today, as you would every day. Will you, or can you, live on Egyptian porridge instead?”
Joseph’s mind had not wavered from his sense of purpose in his calling, but this last argument for a return to his previous role brought to mind the haunting image of his uncle, Esau, selling his birthright to Jacob for a meal.
Balo pressed his argument. “You are destined to be a servant here, a slave to those who own you. Where is your future in that?
“Come with me. Leave your slavery and live the life of the nomad you were born to be. Be free.”
Joseph could not deny that he was tempted, but Balo had not finished his temptation. “And you will find the freedom of the open land beneath an open sky to match the freedom of your mind.
“The price of a slave is not so large to the man who buys, but to the slave, the price of freedom is life itself.” As if an afterthought, he added, “Join me, and they will never find you.”
The surface meaning of Balo’s speech was plain, like a fact that could not be countered, but the foundation of the argument was false.
Joseph’s recent experiences had provided some insight into the concepts of bondage and freedom. And he doubted that he could ever feel free, even under the Medjay’s protection. And would the mercenary nature of Balo win if someone offered him a price for Joseph?
“Are you free, indeed, Balo? Or are you the hostage of your past?
“Are you not the prisoner of your herd, the cattle who expect from you the grass they must eat and the water they must drink? Are you not their provider and protector?
“And have you the complete freedom to roam the lands of Nubia and Egypt? Or are there boundaries placed upon you in Nubia because of your past, and expectations of you in Egypt to prove continually your value here?”
The old man was incensed at such a suggestion. “I am not in bondage, nor are my people! We are free!”
He stepped forward toward Joseph as he contradicted Joseph’s assertions, his body as aggressive as the choice and tone of his words.
Joseph held up his hand, the palm open in peace as a counter to the Nubian’s hostile stance.
Joseph spoke calmly. “You do see that each of us is free within the bounds of what holds us.
“We walk up and down the space allotted to us, whether a house of stone, a parcel of land, or a country.
“We choose our response to our captor, whether it is the culture that forces our conformity, or the land that requires us to scratch out our living, or the herds that tie us to them.
“When I was sold into slavery, my good fortune was to be shown my liberation from my past, to have my inevitable future erased so that it might be written anew. That future is still an unknown, but it is being formed every day.
“Thank you for your offer to leave the place where I am, but I must wait until I have experienced release by God from my present bondage before I choose another.”
The black man stood silently before him for a full minute, perhaps two. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, as if the world awaited the response to his challenge.
Balo slowly broke into his crooked smile, and then into a broad smile followed by full-fledged laughter.
“Indeed, you show wisdom beyond your years, young Joseph!”
Balo turned to the two men who had returned to only a short distance behind him. “Look, he has bested me in my own argument!”
The eavesdroppers now allowed themselves to enjoy the joke as they also broke into smiles.
A more serene expression came over Balo’s face as he turned to face Joseph again.
“You are my brother,” he said as he embraced the young slave.
Stepping back and giving a nod of his head, just the slightest hint of a bow, he said, “Peace unto you. And if the Medjay may be of service, we are your servants.”
“As I am yours,” replied Joseph, granting the same almost imperceptible bow.
Balo smiled and turned back toward his people, his companions walking beside him.
Senen’s Calling
Not yet time for dinner, Joseph stopped again at the canal, resting again in its soothing rhythm. Only when he noticed the sun had begun to descend below the horizon did he return to camp.
When Joseph next saw Shabaka, he told his friend of the encounter with the Medjays.
Shabaka had never heard of Medjays so far north in Egypt. He shook his head. “They sound as though they always are looking for their advantage. Taking you would be easy for them, but very hard on you. If Potiphar’s men ever caught you, Balo would be no worse for your capture and punishment.”
“Yes, he was very free with my life. But the first question that he raised, the addition of irrigation ditches for the private lands, there is some merit in that question.”
“Again, they look to their own advantage. Wealthier people around them add value to what they have to trade, and poor farmers have little to offer. They did not seriously expect you to accomplish what has been desired during the time since soon after the canal was built, but they had nothing to lose in pushing the idea.”
“I know the canal from the Nile to Lake Fayum has not always been there,” said Joseph, as he thought of the narrow channel with its cargo of life giving water flowing into the Fayum. “Tell me of how it came to be.”
“A much earlier king, Amenemhat I, commissioned men from the surrounding area to extend a natural stream flowing from the Nile. Although there are many foods grown here that require different times for planting and harvesting, at the height of the flood there are no crops to plant, attend, or harvest. The canal was built using their labor in the months of the flood over the course of several years.”
Pointing to hills to the east in the distance, he continued, “There was a natural stream that was blocked by these hills. The area on the Nile side of these hills would flood, and the vegetation always grew rich on the plain from these hills to the Nile.
“These men extended the stream through the lowest parts of the hills to Lake Fayum, digging where necessary to allow the water to flow even when the Nile receded. And they built up the sides of the natural canal to hold the water on course. Now we have a flow that keeps the lake maintained in winter and fills the lake again in summer.
“During the inundation, the water rises to near the top of the canals all the way to Lake Fayum. The steep sides of the canal hold the water, but since the land around the land around the lake is so flat, the lake more than doubles in size.”
Joseph had seen a good part of what Shabaka was telling him. And he understood the old Medjay’s question: Why had they not diverted more of the water from the canal to the fields instead of to the lake? There was more than enough water!
“But why has the water not been diverted from the lake into the fields? There is more than enough water to do so.”
“The king has seen to the irrigation of his own land around The Residence. The king’s father, Amenemhat II, commissioned Senen to make improvements to the canal leading to the lake in the Fayum and to the king’s lands there. Senen did very well and received high praise for his work.”
Feeling as though he was asking a rather dumb question, Joseph repeated, “Why has the king not diverted water from the canal to the fields of the other farmers?”
“As Senen has told me, there was concern about the amount of labor for such a long period of time,” said Shabaka. “I think he would want to create the irrigation ditches, but even though much would be accomplished, there also would be much neglected, particularly resources from the king’s military needs and from the maintenance of his own property.
“Whatever irrigation ditches are dug, there is not only the construction, but also the annual maintenance of restoring flow by removing silt and obstacles. I do not think the king is ready for such a diversion again unless it involves his own lands and he sees it has immense value.
“The cost of feeding so many workers, and at the same time receiving no taxes from those same men, would be very high.”
Joseph was still learning about the cost of running a kingdom and the concept of the king’s army. The whole idea of even a small body of men that did nothing but stand ready to bear arms against a potential enemy was very foreign to him.
Apparently, the king had a growing number of fulltime military men: some at the Residence, and others at forts along the Nubian, Libyan, and Asiatic borders.
When major actions were necessary against known threats, the king must supplement his army with farmers and townspeople. (From Joseph’s personal experience, he knew that nomads would make very poor subordinates in a military setting.) Costs were enormous in terms of food, and the coffers were limited in what could be funded on top of other necessary expenses.
When men were working for themselves, they fed themselves and gave the king a portion of their crops and animals. When they worked for the king, whether as soldiers or laborers, he must feed them and they gave him no taxes.
Yes, labor was expensive. Regarding irrigation to private land, the key would be to show that the benefits were higher than the costs.
Managing the Flood
Joseph had looked forward to the end of the harvesting season and a return to the king’s estate, but this was not to be.
The season of the flood was a season of rest for the farmer (if he were not pressed into service to accomplish some project), but for other workers it was the season for managing the flood waters.
This management included maintenance of the canal feeding the lake, and also blocking or opening the several irrigation ditches tapping the canal to the king’s lands, both around The Residence and in the Fayum above the lake. Dykes had to be set up or moved, and silt and debris removed where water flow was restricted.
The free men were not required considering these were relatively small projects compared with building a new canal or ditches. Joseph found himself in a new crew of twelve as several crews of men belonging to the king were spread over the far reaches of the man-made waterway.
The work of freeing clogged ditches was accomplished only partially with donkeys. Clearing the ditches was back-breaking work. The ditches were hot, the mud heavy, and the days long. The one good thing was the variety of place and task compared to the monotonous rhythm of harvest.
Joseph also noticed that different muscles ached each day rather than the same muscles from the repetitive motions of harvesting.
The movement of the barriers closing or opening ditches was often accomplished with donkeys, and some of the dredging, as well. An abundance of manual labor still was required, and Joseph and the crews performed those tasks.
Joseph learned more about irrigation than he had imagined existed. And when devices or animal labor could not be utilized, the brute force of multiple crews accomplished more than he had thought possible.
They worked to repair movable gates when they could, or build new ones when necessary. These were more easily moved and maintained than the earthen dikes.
The importance of this work was not lost on Joseph, but this was another lesson on unseen blessings. The rains of Canaan had been just such a blessing, the rain falling freely from heaven above in place of this manual labor under the heat of the sun. He would trade the Nile for rainfall any day!
These days under the summer sun seemed interminable at times, but this season passed, also. The early fall months were scarcely cooler than those of summer, standing in great contrast to the change of color in Canaan and the cooler, drier air that gave a foretaste of winter. Such weather was unknown here.
At last, Joseph and Shabaka received orders to return to their previous quarters at The Residence.
They returned, arriving very late in the afternoon, the days only modestly shorter than those of high summer. Senen greeted them as they entered the estate.
Addressing both men, Senen ordered, “Meet me at the gate at dawn for your assignment.”
His command issued with the least effort possible, Senen walked to his lodging.
Joseph and Shabaka went to their lodging but found it occupied. There were blankets and a very few personal belongings in what had been their bedroom.
Joseph laughed and suggested they go and find Senen again, but a young man entered the front room as they were preparing to exit.
“Who are you?”
Shabaka answered for both, giving their names.
“Did Senen not tell you that your quarters were moved to the third servants’ building?” His right arm extended toward the several long buildings near the back gate of the compound.
“No, he did not bother to mention it,” said Shabaka.
Looking at Joseph, Shabaka added, “I am not sure if this is a demotion, or simply an opportunity to encounter Senen less often.”
Joseph agreed, “Yes, there is a bright side to the new arrangement.”
They found no difference in their new accommodations, just new neighbors.
Dinner allowed an opportunity to meet the few new slaves who had arrived in the last months. And Joseph appreciated the transition from the brutal work of the fields back to the less demanding work of The Residence.
After dinner, he walked in the shadows of dusk to the gardens that he and Teyma had first seen upon their arrival. Many months had passed, but little seemed changed.
He observed two other figures strolling through the garden in his direction, not yet aware that someone else was present. Joseph was surprised to recognize Captain Potiphar and a younger woman.
Joseph had seen the woman several times from a distance. He had been told that she was the captain’s wife.
“Good evening, sir,” said Joseph so that the couple would not be startled on their course directly into Joseph.
Potiphar turned his head abruptly, whatever exchange with his wife interrupted.
“Good evening, Joseph. I have not seen you for some months, but trust that you have fared well.”
There was no condescension in the man’s voice, no hint of a master talking to his slave, but he did not introduce his wife.
The woman looked at Joseph, as if seeing him for the first time, and then as readily dismissed him from her sight and thoughts. Hers appeared to be the philosophy, “Servants and slaves were neither to be seen nor heard, if possible.”
Joseph kept his focus on the captain. “Your servants appear to take pleasure in offering me new tasks with new people. They have had me harvest in the Fayum region, and then to clear and divert water from the canal and the irrigation ditches.”
The captain smiled. “Continue to take your service well, young Joseph. A variety of experience is good. Teyma had told me that he had broadened your experience, but that much was left to me to accomplish.”
There was a note of finality, the end of the conversation, as Captain Potiphar’s speech ended.
Joseph gave a slight bow and said. “May you rest well, and the God of heaven bless you with sweet dreams.”
The captain had already begun turning away, but he turned and gave a nod of appreciation. Guiding his wife, he retraced his steps into the darkness of the garden, and Joseph returned to his own quarters.
In Service to Another
The next morning, twenty of the king’s servants were lined up at the gate waiting for Senen.
Senen arrived, counted the men, and then began toward the temple with a simple, “Follow me.”
Although in sight upon a distant hilltop, the march required almost two hours, sufficient time for the morning to be quite warm.
Senen had the men wait outside the gate to the temple compound. He returned a short time later and led the group to the canal, an extension of the one flowing past the king’s Residence.
After passing near the temple, creating a half circle around the foot of the temple mount, the canal went toward the temple's fields. Here the canal was divided into several ditches, depositing all of the remaining water and silt on the priests’ fields.
Senen proceeded to oversee the segmenting of the fields so that the rising water filled certain sections. Later, the dykes would be moved to flood other portions. The final months of the flood would be spent in holding as much water on the land as possible, preventing backflow into the Nile many miles away. Sharing from one field to the next enhanced crop yield dramatically.
Shabaka made Joseph aware of what was occurring. The king received revenue from everyone except the priests. The property associated with the temples were tax-free areas. There were some wealthy families also escaping the tax, but they had arrangements with the king that provided him support in other ways.
The use of the king’s own servants was a blatant abuse of power, possible only because of the powerful positions of the fathers of Senen and Meri. The absence of the king, and Potiphar who made trips to the Delta region to maintain control, left Ruia in charge. And Ruia’s lack of authority was readily apparent.
This was not the battle for Shabaka and Joseph, however. Their duty was to obey their superior, and so they did through the coming weeks as they assisted the temple’s rather large labor force in enhancing the productivity of the land and upgrading temple lands.
Father and Son
Only one thing of significance occurred during this period. The work almost completed, Senen was distracted by final details and much of the labor force had an entire afternoon without direction. Joseph sought a place where he could sit by the larger canal feeding the smaller ditches. There he could lie back and relax, listening to the water playing its song for him.
He had not been long at this place (which, incidentally, was practically on the road from Memphis to this temple) when he heard someone approaching.
At the lead were men marching like soldiers, but lightly armed, a modest curved dagger swaying to and fro on a purple belt with each step. They were dressed less in a military style and more like high ranking servants, but clearly in a uniform and providing escort.
Several donkeys bore men of higher rank, one of whom Joseph recognized from the description he had been given – Neferti, the high priest of the Temple of Ptah in Memphis, the father of Meri-ptah.
A small contingent of uniformed men formed the rear guard.
As Joseph watched, somewhat obscured from the road by the foliage between the road and the canal, a voice commanded a halt for the purpose of taking water and relieving themselves before arriving at the temple.
Each man, servant and master, moved into his more or less private space. The high priest came directly toward Joseph’s spot.
Joseph had been told that the king appointed the high priests, whose primary job was to oversee proper worship of their particular god, care of the god’s statue embodying the god, and the oversight of the ritual prayers and ceremonies.
And there were the mortuary rituals for the dead. Many of the wealthy, including the kings, had meals brought for their spirit to consume and prayers offered for them for years, even decades after they had died.
And, of course, there were the burials to perform.
There were a few permanent positions, but most of the men and women serving as priests and priestesses rotated into the temple for a month, and back to their civilian lives for three months.
The position as head of a temple was the “first servant.” His position could sound like a glorified overseer, a mere manager of workers overseeing the performance of rituals.
But Joseph had seen the immense wealth of the Temple of Ptah in Memphis. Much power comes from much wealth. Perhaps the priest held even more power than the king from what he had overheard among the servants. Joseph was cautious in his listening, for he had learned how numerous and often sordid and sometimes wrong were the rumors of the servants!
Although Joseph had made no attempt to hide, the men were oblivious to him. To avoid possibly embarrassing the high priest, Joseph cleared his throat.
Startled, the high priest turned toward Joseph. Seeing a young man who could be no more than a slave, he asked, “What are you doing here? Are you shirking the commands of your master?”
Joseph suppressed a smile and put on his most serious expression.
“By no means, sir! Senen-set has judged that the land is now well-served by the waters and our tasks here are done. We will return soon to the king’s service.”
As Joseph suspected, the priest was pleased at the confirmation both of the use of the king’s servants and of the work’s completion.
“Yes, Senen-set is skilled in his work.”
Joseph ventured into an area possibly fraught with danger.
“And your son, Meri-ptah, has served the king and Captain Potiphar for some time now, has he not?”
The old priest stiffened as he gave his response in no uncertain terms. “Meri-ptah has chosen his course. He will do as he does, and where he goes is of no concern to me.”
“I misunderstood, sir! You have great power, and your son must be in the king’s service by your power.”
“What is that to you, slave?” There was great bitterness in his voice. Possibly the inappropriateness of a slave speaking to him of such matters added insult to the situation.
The priest entertained second thoughts, now suspicious of this bold young man. Facing the lowly slave in a stance of defiance and power, the priest boomed, “You know me and you know my rank. Take care of your speech, slave, or you will find your tongue forever silent!”
Joseph retreated.
“Your pardon, sir! You speak truly that this is nothing to me, sir. Each of us enters the world by our father’s blessing, and so we should pass through life on the wings of that same blessing.”
The priest seemed pacified to some degree with this thought, and so Joseph proceeded.
“I was myself to have been a shepherd walking in the footsteps of my father. Yet here am I, a slave in Egypt, distant in time and place and purpose.”
“What brought you to this place, slave?” The man meant nothing personal in this request, but the slave having opened the door to the fortunes that change lives, the priest was curious as to how the boy had fallen into slavery.
“This was of my own doing, sir, although this was not my intent. Full of my own importance, I alienated my half-brothers who sold me into bondage.”
“And what of your father?”
“Oh, I am sure he mourned my loss. I have no doubt that he was told that I was dead. But from this distant land and this poor condition in which I find myself, how can I give him reassurance?
“For that I am dead, he has no recourse but to bear it, no hope for what might have been. But that I live as a slave, he must constantly live in sadness and false hope of my betterment and return.”
The priest sympathized with the plight of the slave’s father, but he found that man’s position more favorable than his own.
“Your father mourns and, without hope, lives anew. I mourn my son’s bitterness that I have sent him away, and would that he return. But he now has claimed as his own the choice that I once made for him.
“As the youngest son, I have no place to give him. And as the youngest son without hope of status better than servant to his brothers, he has severed connection with me and feels no worse for the severance.
“Ah, I had no choice but to prepare for him a better place, and I still have no choice, and would do it all over again!”
“But, sir, was there no choice that you might have made that would have endeared this young son to you? Are not the bonds of father to son and of son to father more than the inheritance of rank or wealth?
“What bond would better have held him close than to acknowledge his strength, his mastery in the sport of fighting? He is able to wrestle anyone and anything! He is a fighter, with the skills of the art. Would you not trust him to follow his passion?”
“Listen, insolent slave!” The priest’s face had grown red with anger. Now his voice was raised and the guards converged from different directions. “He refused to see I had his good in every act. He has chosen his path apart from me, and we will not meet again until he returns in obedient acceptance!”
Joseph saw no path to reconciliation. The father would have the son protected from danger while the son resented the loss of opportunity to face danger on his own.
“There is a great loss in all of this,” said Joseph to the priest.
The guards stood around them like snakes coiled, ready to strike when given permission.
Joseph searched the eyes of the men ringing him, and looked back at the priest, an old man lost somewhere between anger and hope.
“Your servant bids you well.” Joseph bowed and remained in that subservient pose.
Looking now at the young slave, the priest spoke without conviction in the calm voice of resignation. “May your father find you again, and may you find again your father.”
“Thank you, sir. And I will pray to the God of heaven that you rediscover your son, and that he rediscover his father.”
The old man hesitated, caught off guard by the unusual wording of Joseph’s blessing. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, or maybe he did not acknowledge at all, and went on his way.
Joseph watched the man, surrounded by his guard, return to the donkeys. None gave the young slave a second thought.
The procession resumed its journey, the old priest perhaps a little slower, a little more thoughtful. Before he disappeared from sight, the old man looked back at Joseph as the donkey plodded slowly forward. The tired eyes gave no sign. The priest turned forward again and urged his animal to depart from this unpleasantness more quickly.
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The Medjays - An Interlude
The end of the harvest came at last, all grains reaped and the stalks gathered. A last walk over the entire area gleaned during the harvest yielded very modest returns, particularly as the encroaching waters devoured more land.
A workday came that ended very early. The workers were dismissed to return to their homes or, for men like Shabaka and Joseph, to the camp.
Shebaka returned to the workers’ makeshift camp. Joseph desired to go back to where the water flowed so freely down the canal from the Nile to the lake.
This was not the rippling water of Canaan’s countryside, but the never ending flow of water sang like some ancient rhythm to his heart, calling him closer.
Joseph sat on the edge of life flowing through the desert, hypnotized by the water’s swirling dance and subtle music.
At last he glanced into the flat distance beyond the canal. From here he could see a makeshift village, not unlike those of nomads such as Joseph’s own family.
Joseph saw that the people of the encampment all had the same dark skin as Shabaka. Their tents were not that different from those in Canaan, except perhaps even more colorful and open. And in the distance there were cattle with huge horns. Indeed, these horns looked like deadly weapons.
The scene was so foreign he thought for a moment that perhaps this was a mirage, the vision of what is not real that sometimes occurs in the desert. The easiest way to determine the reality of what he saw was to move toward it.
As he approached the camp, three men came out to him, two carrying long bronze-tipped spears. Joseph felt this was less a greeting than a warning, but he resolved that they could not view one lone man approaching as a sincere threat.
From a distance, he gave a greeting in Egyptian flavored with the remaining notes of his eastern accent. The eldest of the three, flanked by his guards, responded in kind, an Egyptian speech with another accent reminiscent of what Joseph had noted in Shabaka’s speech.
Within a moment, Joseph stood face to face with men who seemed warriors as much as herdsmen. He introduced himself as Joseph, a slave of Captain Potiphar of the king’s house.
The man in the center identified himself as Balo, a Medjay of the southern lands.
Balo quickly assumed the offensive. “Why are you in the land of nomads and their cattle?”
Overlooking the fact that they were actually still on the king’s property, Joseph replied, “I am assigned to the harvest of the king’s crops. I am new to Egypt and to farming, and am learning of its river and its seasons as I labor for my owner.”
The elder nomad gave a wry smile. “Then you are not being sent to the copper or tin mines, and you are not a farmer. So, what are you good for?”
Joseph laughed at Balo’s bluntness. “You are right, I am fortunate not to be a slave intended for the mines. My experience in the east was with sheep. Perhaps the captain will have uses for me beyond digging ore or planting vegetables.”
Balo gave a snort of disgust as he repeated, “Sheep!” But then he returned with that slightly crooked smile, “Indeed, there is one better use for you beyond sheep and farming - cattle!
“But for now, come and tell us the news from your people.”
Less an invitation than a command, Joseph was surrounded by the three men as they turned toward their tents.
In the midst of their encampment, in spite of the heat of the day, a small fire was keeping warm a kettle set to the side. In the shade of one tent, several women talked excitedly in a strange language as they worked on some material, perhaps clothing.
Balo gestured for Joseph to sit on a mat near him in the shade of a tent awning. One of the two companions went to the women, evidently directing one of them to provide Balo and the stranger with cups of the liquid kept warm by the fire.
Joseph had seen several tents, perhaps twenty people, and now had a better view of the herd of large horned cattle grazing nearby.
After they were seated, a woman brought two cups of the warm brown liquid.
Balo raised his cup toward Joseph. “This drink is from the leaves of a plant from our homeland. It is reputed to give long life. We add a bit of honey that the long life may be less bitter than sweet.”
Balo took a sip and smiled, waiting for Joseph to drink.
Joseph obediently raised his cup. “To your long life, and may it be sweet.”
He took a sip. There was an underlying bitterness almost masked by the honey, but the overall taste was pleasant. His body received the sweet warmth with pleasure in spite of the growing warmth of the sun.
“So you are Joseph, a slave, a shepherd who now must farm the land. How do you like your new job?”
The tone of the question implied a negative answer, even held some derision in its tone, but Joseph was not going to give the man such an easy victory.
“I find that whether I serve a herd or serve the land, that God gives me the increase.”
“You speak of your God as if he is the only one, and that you are in his favor. You are no longer in the land of your God but in the land of the gods of Egypt! How can you say that you are blessed?”
“God honors those who honor Him, and He is not restricted to a place. Of course, other men may not honor me, and that is to their detriment just as it is my wrong if I do not honor them. He would have each of us to be His favorite.” He raised his cup to Balo and took another sip.
Balo raised his cup to Joseph in response and took a sip, also.
“You talk like a free man instead of a slave, a nomad instead of a farmer.”
“I am free to think as a living man, and if the land I roam is smaller, yet I am still rooted in its soil and God has made me at one with the life upon it.”
“You speak bravely for a man with only one God.”
“And would a multitude of pieces of carved stone and wood be greater than the Creator who sculpted them? No, I think not. The question behind the question of a multitude of gods is who made each one?
“And if they were made by men, then what power do they have?
“But when they are put beside the God who created all, the God who is larger than His creation, these gods are but dumb stone and wood, lifeless images.”
“You have given me much to think about concerning your God, young Joseph.” The Nubian was indeed well beyond Joseph in years and gave emphasis to the fact. Joseph took the lack of a question, actual or implied, to be his opportunity to ask questions.
“Are you from Nubia?”
“We are from Nubia, but we are not Nubians. We are called Medjays,” said Balo. “We are noted as excellent soldiers, as well as herders of the best cattle. We have no allegiance to the Nubians since they do not like our cattle on what they call their land.
“Because we have little allegiance to Nubia, we offered information to your king in return for a small payment. We came here after this and have resided near the water here in the Fayum. As nomads, our wealth is in our people and our livestock.
“And cattle require land to roam! Tell me, who is it that can claim to own the land?” His words were a statement that did not expect an answer.
The Medjay continued, “The land is for all, and the nomad is the way of life intended for mankind. We are not to imprison people in cities or to chain them to the plants of the field. Do you not agree?”
Balo showed great passion in his brief speech. Whether this was genuine, or simply a desire to win a point after the previous discussion, Joseph did not know.
As a shepherd, Joseph could empathize with Balo’s position. The short speech was almost a lament, a defense of a way of life that had been idealized and must someday reach its limitations.
Nomads roamed freely without higher human authority. They did not accumulate material goods that must be carried from place to place. They did not enslave or imprison. Life was a freedom within the rhythm of the seasons rather than enslavement to that rhythm.
The world’s growing number of people could not all be wanderers. And yet there was something that was almost sacred in this freedom that was being curbed, a sense of increasing restriction by those who accumulated wealth and power.
Joseph thought of Teyma, a man not a nomad and yet the person who most embodied freedom in Joseph’s mind. Even Teyma was operating in a rhythm of seasons and relationships. Those merchants in Memphis, the fishermen on the river, and all others he had met on his strange odyssey - all were part of some vast web including nature and mankind.
A single life was like a rough flaxen thread and a fine linen thread, twisted and knotted together in a bindle with innumerable other strands of varying types, each distinct yet inseparable. The rough desire for life, a determination to make a way in the world, was paired with the necessity for honoring other lives – plant, animal, and human – and encouraging the contribution of those others for that better life.
Each person found a place in a different set of laws and restrictions. Both nature and mankind established rules and boundaries. Nature’s rule was inescapable, and some balance between men’s additional restrictions was inevitable.
All of this passed through Joseph’s mind in a shorthand that required only a split second. His previous comments and what sprang to mind now were the culmination of these months in the crucible of change, the summation of what experience had taught him until this moment.
“You are fortunate to have found your freedom in this life that you lead, Balo. May we all be content to do the work that is in our hands!
“If we could fill the earth with nomads herding their cattle – or sheep – you and I would do well!
“But God has given us a larger world and a variety of people. What of those who have the talent for making the cups like we hold?” Joseph lifted his empty cup.
“Or those who weave the cool linen or sturdy flax that we wear?” Joseph tugged at his cloak and added, “Even your clothing is not all leather.
“And what of the jeweler who makes the amulet you wear on your neck and forms the rings your wife wears on her fingers and arms?
“From where would we get these things of value?”
Balo gave his wry smile. His dark eyes were now focused, fixed on Joseph. The whites seemed to illuminate the dark iris, opening the old man’s inner being to Joseph’s steadfast gaze.
The old man did not respond to Joseph’s speech but jumped to the thread of his own thoughts.
“I see a purpose for you, Joseph the shepherd. You will improve the flow of water from the Nile.”
Pointing a thin black arm toward Lake Fayum, he continued, “You will make the canals to flow into the fields other than the king’s land. You will give the farmer and the herdsman fields of abundance.”
The old man’s dark eyes turned toward the Fayum and the people scattered in and around its large borders.
“The people there are so poor they have nothing to trade! They eat what they grow and have nothing with which to buy meat and milk. The water is available. Bring it to them! Let the land and these people flourish!”
Joseph waited for Balo to continue, but the Medjay left his words hanging in the air, requiring a response.
“I see that the canal to Lake Fayum has brought great wealth to the people of the region. The water rises and falls. The lake grows large and has been for the benefit of all. What more is to be done?”
Joseph’s response showed the Medjay the limitation of the young man’s knowledge. The question offered the Medjay the opportunity to rise to the challenge with a solution.
“You are young, are you not? Your king has done much to serve his own lands.
“I have seen the pyramids of your kings, massive structures of stones that took the labor of thousands of men to build over many years. You spend your labor on death instead of life, on tombs for the dead instead of meat for the living.
“Let your people build ditches in the earth instead of raising stones to heaven. Let them spread water, and not war. Let them honor life and not death!”
The passion in the old man’s speech was stirring, but Joseph declined the battle.
“You know this is not the decision of such a lowly servant as I, Balo.”
Balo’s stance was still that of a fighter, squared off toward his opponent and ready for the first blow.
“But what of your God, Joseph? Does He not desire the best for His creation?”
Joseph was impressed at how quickly Balo had understood the concept of a single omnipotent God. And the old black man had used it to force Joseph to reconcile the present circumstance with an almighty God.
“I bow to your wisdom, Balo,” a concession for which he knew the old man hungered. And, indeed, Joseph was faced with a question similar to the one he had faced at the bottom of the well, as well as at other times on this strange journey.
Yes, it was a strange journey. There were pits and dangers, uncertainties and confrontations, but each one was necessary for whatever path was set before him.
“I am first the servant of God, and then I am the servant of the man who has paid for me. He bought me from the man who had ransomed me from death, so I owe a great debt.
“If God desires that the land be rich, then it will be as you say. If God desires that I play some role, no matter how small or large, then it will be as He directs.”
“I like you, Joseph, the servant.” The old man smiled, showing a mouth full of still very strong teeth. “You are still young and strong, but this land offers you nothing.”
The old man’s smile was now disappearing as he continued. “In five years, you will be as gaunt as the stalks the harvest leaves behind. You will be bent over like the fronds hanging from the palm trees. And you will be hungry every day of your life, working to provide another man’s bread.”
There was some truth in the Medjay’s words. A man of 25 in the fields was not as strong as the man of 50 with his herd. A man of 40 in the fields was rare, few of that age still alive, but a man of 70 with his herd often was yet virile with years ahead of him.
The old man continued. “You ate of my meat today, as you would every day. Will you, or can you, live on Egyptian porridge instead?”
Joseph’s mind had not wavered from his sense of purpose in his calling, but this last argument for a return to his previous role brought to mind the haunting image of his uncle, Esau, selling his birthright to Jacob for a meal.
Balo pressed his argument. “You are destined to be a servant here, a slave to those who own you. Where is your future in that?
“Come with me. Leave your slavery and live the life of the nomad you were born to be. Be free.”
Joseph could not deny that he was tempted, but Balo had not finished his temptation. “And you will find the freedom of the open land beneath an open sky to match the freedom of your mind.
“The price of a slave is not so large to the man who buys, but to the slave, the price of freedom is life itself.” As if an afterthought, he added, “Join me, and they will never find you.”
The surface meaning of Balo’s speech was plain, like a fact that could not be countered, but the foundation of the argument was false.
Joseph’s recent experiences had provided some insight into the concepts of bondage and freedom. And he doubted that he could ever feel free, even under the Medjay’s protection. And would the mercenary nature of Balo win if someone offered him a price for Joseph?
“Are you free, indeed, Balo? Or are you the hostage of your past?
“Are you not the prisoner of your herd, the cattle who expect from you the grass they must eat and the water they must drink? Are you not their provider and protector?
“And have you the complete freedom to roam the lands of Nubia and Egypt? Or are there boundaries placed upon you in Nubia because of your past, and expectations of you in Egypt to prove continually your value here?”
The old man was incensed at such a suggestion. “I am not in bondage, nor are my people! We are free!”
He stepped forward toward Joseph as he contradicted Joseph’s assertions, his body as aggressive as the choice and tone of his words.
Joseph held up his hand, the palm open in peace as a counter to the Nubian’s hostile stance.
Joseph spoke calmly. “You do see that each of us is free within the bounds of what holds us.
“We walk up and down the space allotted to us, whether a house of stone, a parcel of land, or a country.
“We choose our response to our captor, whether it is the culture that forces our conformity, or the land that requires us to scratch out our living, or the herds that tie us to them.
“When I was sold into slavery, my good fortune was to be shown my liberation from my past, to have my inevitable future erased so that it might be written anew. That future is still an unknown, but it is being formed every day.
“Thank you for your offer to leave the place where I am, but I must wait until I have experienced release by God from my present bondage before I choose another.”
The black man stood silently before him for a full minute, perhaps two. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, as if the world awaited the response to his challenge.
Balo slowly broke into his crooked smile, and then into a broad smile followed by full-fledged laughter.
“Indeed, you show wisdom beyond your years, young Joseph!”
Balo turned to the two men who had returned to only a short distance behind him. “Look, he has bested me in my own argument!”
The eavesdroppers now allowed themselves to enjoy the joke as they also broke into smiles.
A more serene expression came over Balo’s face as he turned to face Joseph again.
“You are my brother,” he said as he embraced the young slave.
Stepping back and giving a nod of his head, just the slightest hint of a bow, he said, “Peace unto you. And if the Medjay may be of service, we are your servants.”
“As I am yours,” replied Joseph, granting the same almost imperceptible bow.
Balo smiled and turned back toward his people, his companions walking beside him.
Senen’s Calling
Not yet time for dinner, Joseph stopped again at the canal, resting again in its soothing rhythm. Only when he noticed the sun had begun to descend below the horizon did he return to camp.
When Joseph next saw Shabaka, he told his friend of the encounter with the Medjays.
Shabaka had never heard of Medjays so far north in Egypt. He shook his head. “They sound as though they always are looking for their advantage. Taking you would be easy for them, but very hard on you. If Potiphar’s men ever caught you, Balo would be no worse for your capture and punishment.”
“Yes, he was very free with my life. But the first question that he raised, the addition of irrigation ditches for the private lands, there is some merit in that question.”
“Again, they look to their own advantage. Wealthier people around them add value to what they have to trade, and poor farmers have little to offer. They did not seriously expect you to accomplish what has been desired during the time since soon after the canal was built, but they had nothing to lose in pushing the idea.”
“I know the canal from the Nile to Lake Fayum has not always been there,” said Joseph, as he thought of the narrow channel with its cargo of life giving water flowing into the Fayum. “Tell me of how it came to be.”
“A much earlier king, Amenemhat I, commissioned men from the surrounding area to extend a natural stream flowing from the Nile. Although there are many foods grown here that require different times for planting and harvesting, at the height of the flood there are no crops to plant, attend, or harvest. The canal was built using their labor in the months of the flood over the course of several years.”
Pointing to hills to the east in the distance, he continued, “There was a natural stream that was blocked by these hills. The area on the Nile side of these hills would flood, and the vegetation always grew rich on the plain from these hills to the Nile.
“These men extended the stream through the lowest parts of the hills to Lake Fayum, digging where necessary to allow the water to flow even when the Nile receded. And they built up the sides of the natural canal to hold the water on course. Now we have a flow that keeps the lake maintained in winter and fills the lake again in summer.
“During the inundation, the water rises to near the top of the canals all the way to Lake Fayum. The steep sides of the canal hold the water, but since the land around the land around the lake is so flat, the lake more than doubles in size.”
Joseph had seen a good part of what Shabaka was telling him. And he understood the old Medjay’s question: Why had they not diverted more of the water from the canal to the fields instead of to the lake? There was more than enough water!
“But why has the water not been diverted from the lake into the fields? There is more than enough water to do so.”
“The king has seen to the irrigation of his own land around The Residence. The king’s father, Amenemhat II, commissioned Senen to make improvements to the canal leading to the lake in the Fayum and to the king’s lands there. Senen did very well and received high praise for his work.”
Feeling as though he was asking a rather dumb question, Joseph repeated, “Why has the king not diverted water from the canal to the fields of the other farmers?”
“As Senen has told me, there was concern about the amount of labor for such a long period of time,” said Shabaka. “I think he would want to create the irrigation ditches, but even though much would be accomplished, there also would be much neglected, particularly resources from the king’s military needs and from the maintenance of his own property.
“Whatever irrigation ditches are dug, there is not only the construction, but also the annual maintenance of restoring flow by removing silt and obstacles. I do not think the king is ready for such a diversion again unless it involves his own lands and he sees it has immense value.
“The cost of feeding so many workers, and at the same time receiving no taxes from those same men, would be very high.”
Joseph was still learning about the cost of running a kingdom and the concept of the king’s army. The whole idea of even a small body of men that did nothing but stand ready to bear arms against a potential enemy was very foreign to him.
Apparently, the king had a growing number of fulltime military men: some at the Residence, and others at forts along the Nubian, Libyan, and Asiatic borders.
When major actions were necessary against known threats, the king must supplement his army with farmers and townspeople. (From Joseph’s personal experience, he knew that nomads would make very poor subordinates in a military setting.) Costs were enormous in terms of food, and the coffers were limited in what could be funded on top of other necessary expenses.
When men were working for themselves, they fed themselves and gave the king a portion of their crops and animals. When they worked for the king, whether as soldiers or laborers, he must feed them and they gave him no taxes.
Yes, labor was expensive. Regarding irrigation to private land, the key would be to show that the benefits were higher than the costs.
Managing the Flood
Joseph had looked forward to the end of the harvesting season and a return to the king’s estate, but this was not to be.
The season of the flood was a season of rest for the farmer (if he were not pressed into service to accomplish some project), but for other workers it was the season for managing the flood waters.
This management included maintenance of the canal feeding the lake, and also blocking or opening the several irrigation ditches tapping the canal to the king’s lands, both around The Residence and in the Fayum above the lake. Dykes had to be set up or moved, and silt and debris removed where water flow was restricted.
The free men were not required considering these were relatively small projects compared with building a new canal or ditches. Joseph found himself in a new crew of twelve as several crews of men belonging to the king were spread over the far reaches of the man-made waterway.
The work of freeing clogged ditches was accomplished only partially with donkeys. Clearing the ditches was back-breaking work. The ditches were hot, the mud heavy, and the days long. The one good thing was the variety of place and task compared to the monotonous rhythm of harvest.
Joseph also noticed that different muscles ached each day rather than the same muscles from the repetitive motions of harvesting.
The movement of the barriers closing or opening ditches was often accomplished with donkeys, and some of the dredging, as well. An abundance of manual labor still was required, and Joseph and the crews performed those tasks.
Joseph learned more about irrigation than he had imagined existed. And when devices or animal labor could not be utilized, the brute force of multiple crews accomplished more than he had thought possible.
They worked to repair movable gates when they could, or build new ones when necessary. These were more easily moved and maintained than the earthen dikes.
The importance of this work was not lost on Joseph, but this was another lesson on unseen blessings. The rains of Canaan had been just such a blessing, the rain falling freely from heaven above in place of this manual labor under the heat of the sun. He would trade the Nile for rainfall any day!
These days under the summer sun seemed interminable at times, but this season passed, also. The early fall months were scarcely cooler than those of summer, standing in great contrast to the change of color in Canaan and the cooler, drier air that gave a foretaste of winter. Such weather was unknown here.
At last, Joseph and Shabaka received orders to return to their previous quarters at The Residence.
They returned, arriving very late in the afternoon, the days only modestly shorter than those of high summer. Senen greeted them as they entered the estate.
Addressing both men, Senen ordered, “Meet me at the gate at dawn for your assignment.”
His command issued with the least effort possible, Senen walked to his lodging.
Joseph and Shabaka went to their lodging but found it occupied. There were blankets and a very few personal belongings in what had been their bedroom.
Joseph laughed and suggested they go and find Senen again, but a young man entered the front room as they were preparing to exit.
“Who are you?”
Shabaka answered for both, giving their names.
“Did Senen not tell you that your quarters were moved to the third servants’ building?” His right arm extended toward the several long buildings near the back gate of the compound.
“No, he did not bother to mention it,” said Shabaka.
Looking at Joseph, Shabaka added, “I am not sure if this is a demotion, or simply an opportunity to encounter Senen less often.”
Joseph agreed, “Yes, there is a bright side to the new arrangement.”
They found no difference in their new accommodations, just new neighbors.
Dinner allowed an opportunity to meet the few new slaves who had arrived in the last months. And Joseph appreciated the transition from the brutal work of the fields back to the less demanding work of The Residence.
After dinner, he walked in the shadows of dusk to the gardens that he and Teyma had first seen upon their arrival. Many months had passed, but little seemed changed.
He observed two other figures strolling through the garden in his direction, not yet aware that someone else was present. Joseph was surprised to recognize Captain Potiphar and a younger woman.
Joseph had seen the woman several times from a distance. He had been told that she was the captain’s wife.
“Good evening, sir,” said Joseph so that the couple would not be startled on their course directly into Joseph.
Potiphar turned his head abruptly, whatever exchange with his wife interrupted.
“Good evening, Joseph. I have not seen you for some months, but trust that you have fared well.”
There was no condescension in the man’s voice, no hint of a master talking to his slave, but he did not introduce his wife.
The woman looked at Joseph, as if seeing him for the first time, and then as readily dismissed him from her sight and thoughts. Hers appeared to be the philosophy, “Servants and slaves were neither to be seen nor heard, if possible.”
Joseph kept his focus on the captain. “Your servants appear to take pleasure in offering me new tasks with new people. They have had me harvest in the Fayum region, and then to clear and divert water from the canal and the irrigation ditches.”
The captain smiled. “Continue to take your service well, young Joseph. A variety of experience is good. Teyma had told me that he had broadened your experience, but that much was left to me to accomplish.”
There was a note of finality, the end of the conversation, as Captain Potiphar’s speech ended.
Joseph gave a slight bow and said. “May you rest well, and the God of heaven bless you with sweet dreams.”
The captain had already begun turning away, but he turned and gave a nod of appreciation. Guiding his wife, he retraced his steps into the darkness of the garden, and Joseph returned to his own quarters.
In Service to Another
The next morning, twenty of the king’s servants were lined up at the gate waiting for Senen.
Senen arrived, counted the men, and then began toward the temple with a simple, “Follow me.”
Although in sight upon a distant hilltop, the march required almost two hours, sufficient time for the morning to be quite warm.
Senen had the men wait outside the gate to the temple compound. He returned a short time later and led the group to the canal, an extension of the one flowing past the king’s Residence.
After passing near the temple, creating a half circle around the foot of the temple mount, the canal went toward the temple's fields. Here the canal was divided into several ditches, depositing all of the remaining water and silt on the priests’ fields.
Senen proceeded to oversee the segmenting of the fields so that the rising water filled certain sections. Later, the dykes would be moved to flood other portions. The final months of the flood would be spent in holding as much water on the land as possible, preventing backflow into the Nile many miles away. Sharing from one field to the next enhanced crop yield dramatically.
Shabaka made Joseph aware of what was occurring. The king received revenue from everyone except the priests. The property associated with the temples were tax-free areas. There were some wealthy families also escaping the tax, but they had arrangements with the king that provided him support in other ways.
The use of the king’s own servants was a blatant abuse of power, possible only because of the powerful positions of the fathers of Senen and Meri. The absence of the king, and Potiphar who made trips to the Delta region to maintain control, left Ruia in charge. And Ruia’s lack of authority was readily apparent.
This was not the battle for Shabaka and Joseph, however. Their duty was to obey their superior, and so they did through the coming weeks as they assisted the temple’s rather large labor force in enhancing the productivity of the land and upgrading temple lands.
Father and Son
Only one thing of significance occurred during this period. The work almost completed, Senen was distracted by final details and much of the labor force had an entire afternoon without direction. Joseph sought a place where he could sit by the larger canal feeding the smaller ditches. There he could lie back and relax, listening to the water playing its song for him.
He had not been long at this place (which, incidentally, was practically on the road from Memphis to this temple) when he heard someone approaching.
At the lead were men marching like soldiers, but lightly armed, a modest curved dagger swaying to and fro on a purple belt with each step. They were dressed less in a military style and more like high ranking servants, but clearly in a uniform and providing escort.
Several donkeys bore men of higher rank, one of whom Joseph recognized from the description he had been given – Neferti, the high priest of the Temple of Ptah in Memphis, the father of Meri-ptah.
A small contingent of uniformed men formed the rear guard.
As Joseph watched, somewhat obscured from the road by the foliage between the road and the canal, a voice commanded a halt for the purpose of taking water and relieving themselves before arriving at the temple.
Each man, servant and master, moved into his more or less private space. The high priest came directly toward Joseph’s spot.
Joseph had been told that the king appointed the high priests, whose primary job was to oversee proper worship of their particular god, care of the god’s statue embodying the god, and the oversight of the ritual prayers and ceremonies.
And there were the mortuary rituals for the dead. Many of the wealthy, including the kings, had meals brought for their spirit to consume and prayers offered for them for years, even decades after they had died.
And, of course, there were the burials to perform.
There were a few permanent positions, but most of the men and women serving as priests and priestesses rotated into the temple for a month, and back to their civilian lives for three months.
The position as head of a temple was the “first servant.” His position could sound like a glorified overseer, a mere manager of workers overseeing the performance of rituals.
But Joseph had seen the immense wealth of the Temple of Ptah in Memphis. Much power comes from much wealth. Perhaps the priest held even more power than the king from what he had overheard among the servants. Joseph was cautious in his listening, for he had learned how numerous and often sordid and sometimes wrong were the rumors of the servants!
Although Joseph had made no attempt to hide, the men were oblivious to him. To avoid possibly embarrassing the high priest, Joseph cleared his throat.
Startled, the high priest turned toward Joseph. Seeing a young man who could be no more than a slave, he asked, “What are you doing here? Are you shirking the commands of your master?”
Joseph suppressed a smile and put on his most serious expression.
“By no means, sir! Senen-set has judged that the land is now well-served by the waters and our tasks here are done. We will return soon to the king’s service.”
As Joseph suspected, the priest was pleased at the confirmation both of the use of the king’s servants and of the work’s completion.
“Yes, Senen-set is skilled in his work.”
Joseph ventured into an area possibly fraught with danger.
“And your son, Meri-ptah, has served the king and Captain Potiphar for some time now, has he not?”
The old priest stiffened as he gave his response in no uncertain terms. “Meri-ptah has chosen his course. He will do as he does, and where he goes is of no concern to me.”
“I misunderstood, sir! You have great power, and your son must be in the king’s service by your power.”
“What is that to you, slave?” There was great bitterness in his voice. Possibly the inappropriateness of a slave speaking to him of such matters added insult to the situation.
The priest entertained second thoughts, now suspicious of this bold young man. Facing the lowly slave in a stance of defiance and power, the priest boomed, “You know me and you know my rank. Take care of your speech, slave, or you will find your tongue forever silent!”
Joseph retreated.
“Your pardon, sir! You speak truly that this is nothing to me, sir. Each of us enters the world by our father’s blessing, and so we should pass through life on the wings of that same blessing.”
The priest seemed pacified to some degree with this thought, and so Joseph proceeded.
“I was myself to have been a shepherd walking in the footsteps of my father. Yet here am I, a slave in Egypt, distant in time and place and purpose.”
“What brought you to this place, slave?” The man meant nothing personal in this request, but the slave having opened the door to the fortunes that change lives, the priest was curious as to how the boy had fallen into slavery.
“This was of my own doing, sir, although this was not my intent. Full of my own importance, I alienated my half-brothers who sold me into bondage.”
“And what of your father?”
“Oh, I am sure he mourned my loss. I have no doubt that he was told that I was dead. But from this distant land and this poor condition in which I find myself, how can I give him reassurance?
“For that I am dead, he has no recourse but to bear it, no hope for what might have been. But that I live as a slave, he must constantly live in sadness and false hope of my betterment and return.”
The priest sympathized with the plight of the slave’s father, but he found that man’s position more favorable than his own.
“Your father mourns and, without hope, lives anew. I mourn my son’s bitterness that I have sent him away, and would that he return. But he now has claimed as his own the choice that I once made for him.
“As the youngest son, I have no place to give him. And as the youngest son without hope of status better than servant to his brothers, he has severed connection with me and feels no worse for the severance.
“Ah, I had no choice but to prepare for him a better place, and I still have no choice, and would do it all over again!”
“But, sir, was there no choice that you might have made that would have endeared this young son to you? Are not the bonds of father to son and of son to father more than the inheritance of rank or wealth?
“What bond would better have held him close than to acknowledge his strength, his mastery in the sport of fighting? He is able to wrestle anyone and anything! He is a fighter, with the skills of the art. Would you not trust him to follow his passion?”
“Listen, insolent slave!” The priest’s face had grown red with anger. Now his voice was raised and the guards converged from different directions. “He refused to see I had his good in every act. He has chosen his path apart from me, and we will not meet again until he returns in obedient acceptance!”
Joseph saw no path to reconciliation. The father would have the son protected from danger while the son resented the loss of opportunity to face danger on his own.
“There is a great loss in all of this,” said Joseph to the priest.
The guards stood around them like snakes coiled, ready to strike when given permission.
Joseph searched the eyes of the men ringing him, and looked back at the priest, an old man lost somewhere between anger and hope.
“Your servant bids you well.” Joseph bowed and remained in that subservient pose.
Looking now at the young slave, the priest spoke without conviction in the calm voice of resignation. “May your father find you again, and may you find again your father.”
“Thank you, sir. And I will pray to the God of heaven that you rediscover your son, and that he rediscover his father.”
The old man hesitated, caught off guard by the unusual wording of Joseph’s blessing. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, or maybe he did not acknowledge at all, and went on his way.
Joseph watched the man, surrounded by his guard, return to the donkeys. None gave the young slave a second thought.
The procession resumed its journey, the old priest perhaps a little slower, a little more thoughtful. Before he disappeared from sight, the old man looked back at Joseph as the donkey plodded slowly forward. The tired eyes gave no sign. The priest turned forward again and urged his animal to depart from this unpleasantness more quickly.
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