Sayed's Vision of the Pyramids

The peak of the centre Pyramid of Khafre, the capped pyramid.

In the shadow of the Great Pyramids of Giza, a small boy named Sayed trudged through the golden sands, his donkey Lucky laden with bottles of Coca-Cola and water.

At just eight years old, Sayed was a fixture of the bustling tourist scene, his sun-browned face and quick smile as familiar to the pyramids’ visitors as the ancient stones themselves. Lucky, with her big heart and steady gait, was his partner in this daily venture, carrying their wares through the heat and chaos of Giza’s markets and onto the hot golden sands of the Pyramid Plateau.

Sayed was no ordinary boy. The pyramids were his playground, their tunnels his sanctuary from the heat of the midday sun, their secrets his lessons. As he sold his drinks, he watched. He listened. The camel men switched tongues from Arabic to English, French, German, offering rides to tourists with practiced charm. Guides led groups of every nationality, their clothes a parade of global fashion, their cameras flashing like stars against the ancient limestone.

Pigeons fluttered to the pyramid slopes, pecking at crumbs left from picnics on the sand. Above, falcons wheeled, sharp-eyed and merciless, snatching fattened pigeons from the air. And at dusk, desert foxes scampered up the pyramids’ sides, tracing hidden pathways, ancient routes carved before the polished limestone casings were set, now worn by time and clever paws.

Sayed watched and learned these pathways too. By twelve, he could scale the Great Pyramid of Khufu with the ease of those foxes, his small hands and bare feet finding holds in the weathered stone. From the summit, he sat feeling like a young pharaoh in his high commanding position, gazing over Giza’s teeming streets, the Nile’s distant shimmer, and the hazy outlines of Dashur, Saqqara, and Abusir’s pyramids. The world below was alive, but up here, he was alone with the heavens and the Gods.

Khafre’s pyramid was his true challenge. Its blocks were rougher, jagged, dusted with fine sand that slipped underfoot. The remaining limestone casing, smooth and unyielding, offered little grip. Yet Sayed, with a heart full of fire and ambition, conquered it. On top of Khafre, he noticed something peculiar: several capstones bore deep, straight cuts, their outer edges raised, forming precise right angles in the corners. He traced them with his fingers, puzzling over their purpose.

He recalled that a white marble pyramidion had been found at the base of one of the smaller Queens' pyramids next to Menkaure. It was explained by the guides that this was the crowning stone placed on each of the pyramids. Kneeling on Khafre’s peak, he realized the truth. The cut lines marked where it’s true pyramidion had been locked into place, a capstone far larger and grander than the one found near Menkaure.

One evening, as the sun dipped low, Sayed saw something else. The limestone blocks glinted faintly, like gold scraped into their surface. His mind raced, and a vision took hold—not of the weathered ruins before him, but of the pyramids in their prime. Khufu’s Great Pyramid blazed with white limestone, its pyramidion sealed with a golden sheet that caught the sun like fire. Khafre gleamed with white marble, its own golden-capped pyramidion a beacon. Menkaure, smaller but fierce, glowed red with granite, its peak shimmering with gilded stone.

Sayed sat frozen, the vision fading as the sun sank.

Below, Lucky brayed, and the market’s noise drifted up. He was just a boy, selling drinks from a donkey’s back. But in that moment, he felt the weight of ancient truths, as if the pyramids themselves had whispered their secrets to him and him alone.