Elena Settimini is taking us to Turin to share her encounter with Egyptian mummies.
When you are a child and you live in Turin, you will not be able to skip at least one visit to the worldwide famous Egyptian Museum: your teacher will start talking about this mysterious and fascinating civilization ruled by powerful, demigod Pharaohs and you will inevitably fall in love with them or at least you will long to find out more about them. Indeed, it is quite surprising that the second largest Egyptian museum of the world is in a town nestled in the Alps, thousands of miles away from where this civilization was born, and Turin is extremely proud and honoured about that. But this is another story.
When I visited the Egyptian Museum for the first time, in the early 1990s, the museum still had a quite old-fashioned exhibition – very far away from the spectacular lightening of the Sarcophaguses Gallery and the interactive exhibitions that now enrich your experience. Nevertheless, I was so curious and eager to know more about the Ancient Egypt that I found extremely interesting all the reconstructions of the tombs and temples, I was intrigued by the Gods statues and by the everyday objects. But what really exited me were the stories of common people. And it was that time that I met those who were going to become my favourite characters. In the gallery dedicated to the cult of the dead there are the mummies of three young women who lived during the 25th Dynasty, in the VII century B.C. The hieroglyphic inscriptions on the sarcophagus inform us that they were three sisters: Tapeni (Little Mouse), Tama (Cat) and Neferrenepet (Good Year). Their father was a minister, chief of the artisans of the Temple of Amon. All the three sisters have anthropomorphic sarcophaguses and painted scenes at the feet level showing Apis, the bull, transporting the soul towards the tomb, while some baboons adore the Sun. These three mummies underwent a CAT, which highlighted that all the three women died only a few days one from the others, probably because of a virus or a food poisoning. These were the basic information the guide was giving to my class about Tapeni, Tama and Neferrenepet, but these words were slowly fading as I started looking to one of the mummies.
Her little, brown face was nearly completely wrapped by bandages and I could only see her closed eyes and her thin black hair. This vision reminded of me sleeping in my bed, and this is probably how my mum sees me every morning, curled up in the blanket. Their strange names made me even more interested and I started daydreaming about their lives: I could see them playing, chatting and running along the Nile or praying their Gods at home. I started empathizing with them and suddenly I felt really sorry about the fact that now they were there, in a glass shrine, under the eyes of thousands of intrusive visitors. I started wondering if they would have been happy knowing that so many people were watching at them now, somehow disturbing their rest – especially recalling a