Mummies of the World

Mummies of the World

By Jay           

It’s about time I wrote something else on this blog.  I don’t know how many people actually take the time out to read these entries, but the brothers can’t be blamed for trying. 

            This is something that has been kicking around in my head for a while now, and I figure now is better than next week or even next month though I should have written it in January, 2012 when it was still fresh in my mind.

            Last year, in downtown Charlotte, they had the Mummies of the World exhibit, and my wife (fiancé then) and I were eager to go and see what all the fuss was about.  We were fortunate to get tickets for Christmas, and so we went a few weeks later.  Unfortunately, we went on a Saturday when everyone else was there.  I detest crowds, especially when you’re crammed in and people are waiting for you to move, which was exactly what was happening the moment we arrived.  I felt like I was part of this big squirming worm as we waited in line to get in.  When I go to museums, I don’t like the feeling of people on all sides of me.  Who does?  I want to take the time to enjoy the exhibits without feeling the pressure of stepping aside.  Ah, well!...

            Finally, we reached a point where our tickets were stamped, and we were corralled into an area and pressed together with the rest of the mass who were there to view the mummies.  A young woman, probably just out of college, greeted everyone and gave us a brief background on what we were going to see.  She also stressed viewing the mummies with respect, and reminded us that we were in the presence of those who had once been alive.  I wondered if there was anyone among us who was so desensitized to death as to believe that what he was going to see was not a dead body.  And then I wondered something else…

            What was I doing there?

            I was holding the hand of my fiancé as if we were about to go on a peaceful stroll through a beautiful garden.  But in a moment we were going to be viewing dead bodies  --  shells which once contained living, breathing souls just like all the eager, well-fed people in the room waiting to view them.  The official exhibition catalog opens with what is defined as Mummy Ethics.  This states:

 

“All of the mummies and artifacts presented in the “Mummies of the World” exhibition have been held and established in well-respected European museum and university collections for a century or more and have a traceable provenance.  They were acquired at a time when collection of archeological objects and human specimens were a common practice.

Our goal in our exhibit presentation is to advance the relevance of anthropology in ancient global cultures, and to provide visitors with an educational and scientific window into the cultures, history and lives of the people who came before us.

We present “Mummies of the World” recognizing that ethical guidelines of global museum partnerships demand that human remains are treated with respect and dignity, taking into account the interests and beliefs of the social, ethical and religious groups from which the human remains originate.”

 

            This was essentially a euphemistic way of saying, “Hey, people!  It’s okay to go in and gawk at a bunch of desiccated corpses!  Don’t feel guilty!  Enjoy yourselves!”  Okay, this is a poor paraphrase, but you get the picture.

            I wondered how many of those who actually viewed the mummies visited for “educational” reasons.  How many of us were there to peek into the “scientific window” so that we could learn about “the cultures, history and lives of the people who came before us”?  I don’t deny there is a lot to learn from studying the dead.  It is very important for anthropology, archaeology, biology, and a host of other scientific disciplines.  But what could Joe Public actually get out of this besides satiating his morbid curiosity? 

            The exhibit was small but very interesting.  One of the exhibits that I remember was that of a mummified cat that had been found in Schwerin, Germany.  I remember gazing at it and thinking of my own cat at home.  I gazed at its savage looking teeth, once used to rip, tear and shred some poor and unfortunate mouse or bird back in the 1800’s. 

            Another particularly macabre looking mummy was an exhibit called “The Detmold Child.”  He was encased in a glass case and appeared to be in either a sitting or crouching position.  His eyes were shut and lips were closed.  The entire lower part of his face had puffed out and settled into his shoulders, so that he seemed to be without a neck when viewing him from the front.  He also had a full head of brown hair.  If I only had that much hair on my bald scalp after 6500 years!

            I looked over to see a middle aged couple gazing at an exhibit called “The Tattoo woman.”  Apparently, this mummy had been found in Chile and was dated to the 14^th century.  From the side, you could almost mistake her for a young woman with long hair who was sitting down with her knees pulled up to her chest.  A direct view showed a ghastly, bony corpse with the imprint of her (presumably) burial cloth patterned into the mummified flesh of her face.  The couple was gazing at the morbid figure with blank and unreadable expressions as if they were viewing a print of a still life, their arms around each other’s waists. 

            But the most disturbing mummies were left for the end.  I guess the directors of the exhibit still believe in the old motto SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST.  These mummies were called “The Vac Mummies” and consisted of husband, wife, and their infant child.  Apparently, the Orlovits family had been found in a crypt in Hungary in 1994.  Michael Orlovits, the father, appeared the least mummified.  He was laid out in a replica of the military uniform in which he had been buried.  His face, which was nearly skeletal, held an almost painful expression -- almost as if he were attempting to retain the remaining flesh which still clung tenaciously to the bone.  Veronica Orlovits, Michael’s wife, appeared more composed and comfortable with her situation.  She was laid out in her best white Sunday dress and bonnet.  Her arms and hands were folded over her stomach in such a way as to suggest complete repose.  Even her face, which was more preserved than her husband’s, simply gave her the appearance of one who had been sleeping for a very long time.  It was only her mouth, which was slightly upturned that seemed to suggest disgust with her condition and a distaste for the natural condition of death and the process of decay.  The infant, Johannes Orlovits, was situated in the middle of his parents.  He was wearing a child’s gown and bonnet, and like his mother, his tiny hands were resting peacefully upon his chest.  His gray face appeared to be made out of clay rather than mummified flesh, and the black empty holes where his eyes had been gave him a singularly resigned expression – as if he had not even attempted to comprehend the bewilderment and confusion of his single year on planet Earth.

            When we left the exhibit, we had to leave through the gift store where there was everything from paperweights to pens to children’s games.  Of course, I went to the books where I purchased Mummies of the World: The Official Exhibition Catalog as well as a much larger and more detailed volume called simply, Mummies of the World (This is where the “educational” value of the exhibit was richly detailed!).  If only the mummies knew how profitable their corpses would become. 

            This brings me back to my main point.  Why did I go?  I still don’t have an answer for that.  Was it because my brother, Craig, gave me the tickets for a Christmas gift?  I probably would have gone anyway.  Then why?  Was it simply just the morbid curiosity of seeing dead people?  Am I nothing more than a shallow minded, nosy looky loo?  I don't know!  I think I’ll go with the Mummy Ethics.  That sounds good to me!

 

 

   

              

A Lost Moment In Time

By Craig: The other day I was sifting through some old boxes looking for a certain document when I happened to stumble upon an old photo album that I had made when I was about ten years old. A lot of the photographs have become dislodged from the corners that they had been set into. However, overall, the photographs were in pretty decent shape considering the rough condition of the album. Some of them had been bent and tossed around. In fact, when I removed the album from the box a few of the photographs came tumbling out as if they were telling me "okay! okay! we have had enough! It has been 30 years since someone has looked at us! As I flipped through the fragile cardboard pages one of the photographs caught my attention. It was a photo taken by my father with my old Kodak camera back in 1978. The image was taken at summer camp in Gardner Massachusetts. I can remember the day well. It was a rainy day and a fairly miserable one at that. It was one of those days where the sky couldn't make up it's mind whether to clear up and dry everyone off with a blazing sunshine, or keep drowning us with vicious cloudbursts! Finally, it decided to drown us, but for some oddball reason none of really cared...We were having too much fun.

 

 

The photograph is hazy. The image is blurred. The human figures small and faceless, their identities eradicated by time. Only the bell bottomed trousers and the period cars give it a hint as to the time and era that this grainy image was captured. Disco was the craze. Jimmy Carter was the U.S. President. The New York Yankees with the late Thurman Munson behind the plate were three months away from winning another World Series, and weeks away from Bucky Dent's five minutes of fame. Does anyone remember Buck Dent?

 

  Only one of the tiny figures can be identified. A boy wearing a blue scout uniform and a yellow jacket can be seen near the middle of the photograph. His blazing wavy red hair standing on top of his head like an Olympic torch. He has broken into a run! He is on a mission. He is racing! He wants to win! He is me!  I forget the particulars. It was some sort of relay race. I was running toward a table to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Did I run back? Did I tag someone? I probably tagged my brother and he raced to the table and spread the jelly on the sandwich. Did anyone eat the sandwich? Did we win? It is strange how memories of events in ones past are only fragmented. Perhaps this is why we take photographs...to jog our pathetic memory banks. In the background there can be seen five other human figures. They all seem to be interested in the boy in the yellow rain jacket running at top speed toward something undefinable...something hazy...something blurred. That would be their recollection if somehow they could be identified and asked "What were you doing here?" There were hundreds of people at camp on that long ago day. Besides myself, does anyone else remember it? Would I remember that day if I did not have the photograph to refresh my memory? Over a third of a century has passed since the skinny boy in the yellow jacket raced toward a date with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He is still running today....He will continue to run...and run....and run...from the specter of time until, one day...he will run no more.