![]() ![]() Producing this sound was hard on the trumpeter. This means that I cannot hum a tune, not even something as simple as a bugle’s “Taps” or “Reveille.” My natural voice is limited to a single harsh note (Greek writer Plutarch later likened me to “a braying ass”), but in my day a sheneb’s bold intonation could not be ignored: “Heed Pharaoh, Lord of the two lands,” say I! My voice carried across the Nile Valley, resonated with conviction and communicated in limited pitch, but with long or staccato bursts, rather like your simple Morse code. These hieroglyphs have been oriented so as always to be read from the vantage point of the trumpeter, meaning that no matter who might sound me on his behalf, I am the voice of Tut himself.Īs a sheneb, I lack the separate, cupped mouthpiece found on modern trumpets, nor do I have those three valves to vary my length and, thereby, my pitch. ![]() There, too, a pair of my pharaoh’s many names may be read, recorded in two sets of cartouches that spell out Nebkheperuretutankhamun, followed by one of his royal titles. In fact, the unmistakable design of Nymphae caerulea Savigny has been pressed indelibly into my bell. My shape resembles, quite deliberately, a tall lotus in bloom. ![]() I stand 58.2 centimeters tall, whereas he is shorter and made of copper alloy. I, glistening in silver and gold, am the general my little brother is my adjutant. Do not doubt, however, that I commanded the greater respect, as established by my fancier uniform. Our different pitches allowed the right people to respond appropriately to our distinct calls, much as you program your cell phones with personal ringtones. For years, my brother and I had given voice to the boy-king’s every command. Both of us were buried together in the legendary tomb of Tutankhamun. Sadly, only two of my family members survive from the long age of the pharaohs. This expectation reminds me of the Egyptian legend that it was Osiris, lord and judge of the underworld, who invented the very first sheneb. Many diverse believers expect us to make the final sounds of this world on Judgment Day. In many places, the sheneb-like nafir still trumpets during Ramadan, and some say your English word “fanfare” actually derives from al-nafir. My ancestors spread across North Africa and then into Spain and far beyond. Our usefulness made us the mainstays of war and religion throughout the Middle East. We were the ultimate communication technology of our day-megaphones, microphones and mass media all in one. Our mission was never to make idle toes tap, but to bring order to the world around pharaoh. Whereas your modern trumpets play, we sheneb worked for our livings. In full-throated blare, I announced to his people the god-king’s arrival on state occasions I summoned worshipers to religious observances I even commanded armies on the battlefield. I was invented to cut through useless noise and let it be known that something important should be heeded. Called a sheneb in the language of the pharaohs, I am a royal trumpet. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |