Ra the Golden God

Welcome to ancient Egypt, the land of the pharaohs and their gods. In the next few stories, you’ll find yourself being led from one tale to another.

In the beginning, all was darkness and a vast expanse of water called Nu. From those dark, deep waters rose a shining golden egg. ‘I’m Ra,’ declared a voice and out of the egg emerged the great god of Egypt. Ra was all-powerful and had many names. ‘I’m Khepri at dawn, Ra at noonday and Tum at dusk,’ he said. And he became the sun and began his journey from east to west in the sky. Thus was created the first day.

Ra had many names but there was a sacred, secret name that he did not reveal. With his thoughts he created the world. ‘Shu,’ he said and Shu, the air, began to blow. ‘Tefnut,’ he called out and Tefnut, the rain maker, poured forth the first rain. Geb was what he named the earth and his sister was Nut, the sky. Nut lay arching her body from one horizon to the other above Geb, whom she loved dearly. They were the children of Shu and Tefnut.

Ra named all that was on land and in the waters. He named the river Nile and the land Egypt. He gazed upon the earth with his burning eye. The fiery eye brought forth tears, which fell on the earth and created the first men and women of the world. Then he came down to rule the world of men as the first pharaoh. He reigned for thousands and thousands of years; the land was prosperous and the people happy. It was truly the golden age of Ra.

Over time, Ra grew old and frail. His subjects no longer obeyed the laws of the land that he had set for them to live in harmony. Worse, they began to talk of him derisively. ‘Look at the old pharaoh—his bones have become silver, his flesh is gold-coloured and his hair has become blue like lapis lazuli. We need a new ruler,’ they said. Ra heard the clamour and became very, very angry at the wickedness of men, his own creations. He summoned all the gods to the council.

‘Have you not heard?’ he asked them. ‘A great conspiracy to overthrow me is afoot! You have seen the cruelty of men who no longer live by the laws that I have made for them. Tell me, what do you advise? What should I do now? Should I, who created these ingrates from my burning eye, scorch them with it and destroy them? Do you know they are plotting with Apophis, the evil serpent?’

All the gods feared the wrath of Ra and dared not utter a word. Only Nun, the ancient, the god of that watery expanse from which Ra himself had emerged, spoke: ‘Ra, you are the lord of all. No one can destroy you. Only the evil will follow Apophis. There are still some who fear and respect you. So do not, we beseech you, burn down the land of Egypt. Seek out only those who are wicked and rebellious and destroy them.’ All the gods looked at Nun with respect and agreed with the wise god’s advice.

‘From the fire in my eye I’ll create a daughter, Sekhmet. She will punish the wicked and destroy all evil,’ declared Ra, and all the gods bowed before him till their foreheads touched the ground.

And so Sekhmet, the fearsome lioness, sprang forth from Ra’s eye. The powerful goddess, later known as the Eye of Ra, bounded purposefully towards the desert hills where the evil conspirators were hiding.

Sekhmet scoured the mountains and hunted down those hiding there. She then moved on to the banks of the river Nile and the burning desert, sniffing out rebellious people and killing them, rejoicing in her destruction.

All day long, she hunted and by dusk, she slept. As she went on a rampage all across Egypt, her feet soaked with the blood of those she had slaughtered, the Nile turned a deep red. Delighting in the bloodbath, Sekhmet did not spare the good as she tore people limb from limb.

Ra, the great god, looked down at the earth and saw the merciless killing fields below. His heart was filled with pity for the people, those innocents who had suffered a gory death through no fault of their own. The evil had been vanquished but so had the good. He summoned messengers who could race across the earth with stealth and speed. ‘Go down to the Nile. Just below the first cataract, where the water flows fiercely through the rocks, is the isle of Elephantine. Bring me the red earth you find there,’ he commanded.

The messengers left immediately and by nightfall, had returned with the red ochre in large baskets. All day, the priestesses of Heliopolis, the city of Ra, had been crushing barley and brewing beer at Ra’s bidding. ‘Now mix the beer with the ochre,’ he instructed. As the beer mingled with the red earth, it gleamed in the moonlight like blood.

By dawn, 7000 jars of beer had been emptied into the fields that lay before the lair of Sekhmet. When she awoke, Sekhmet saw the land flooded with red water. She laughed, roaring like the lioness that she was, thinking it was the blood of those she had slaughtered the day before. Greedily, she bent down to drink the ochre waters. She drank and drank until she could drink no more. Before long, she was fast asleep. There was no more killing that day as Sekhmet lay deep in slumber. It seemed the bloodbath was over. All day, peace reigned on earth.

At dusk, as she got up from her drunken stupor, she heard the voice of Ra calling out to her: ‘Come in peace, my sweet child.’ She returned to her father and stood before him obediently, her head hung low. Ra smiled and patted her head. ‘Fair and gracious daughter, you will no longer be Sekhmet, the slayer and the frightful. From now on, you shall be known as Hathor, the comforter of humankind. People shall worship you as the goddess of love and motherhood. Go and rule over them, not by fear but love.’

Thus was born Hathor, the great mother goddess, and the people of Egypt had nothing to fear any more. But afterwards, every year, they celebrated the festival of Hathor on New Year’s Day, drinking huge quantities of beer in memory of the time a fearful goddess had turned into an embodiment of love and happiness. As for Ra, he continued to rule over the earth as the first pharaoh, old though he was.