Catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa

The air changes first. You leave the hot, dusty streets of Alexandria behind, and with each step down the spiral stair the noise of traffic thins away. The rock under your hand feels cool and slightly gritty. It smells of damp stone and old earth. Look up the central shaft and you will see a disc of daylight shrinking above you. Down here, the light comes from lamps, and the walls glow a soft, honey-coloured beige.

The name Kom El Shoqafa is Arabic. It means "mound of shards". Long before anyone knew a tomb lay beneath it, this hill was covered in broken pottery. Many scholars think mourners brought food and drink here in clay jars. Afterwards, they did not want to carry vessels used in a place of death back home. So they broke them and left the pieces behind. Over the centuries, those fragments built up into a small hill.

The rediscovery of this place is one of Alexandria's favourite stories. According to the popular tale, around the year 1900 a donkey pulling a cart fell through the ground into a hidden shaft. Whether the donkey truly deserves the credit is hard to prove. But the story is told everywhere, and it captures something true. This whole world was sealed under an ordinary neighbourhood, and nobody above it knew it was there.

The catacombs were cut by hand into the soft limestone. Most of the work dates to the Roman period of Egypt, around the second century of the common era. That was several hundred years after Alexander the Great founded the city. At first it was probably a tomb for one wealthy family. Later it grew. More chambers and more burial niches were added, and the site became a burial place for many people.

Now look again at the staircase you came down. It winds around a round, open shaft in the middle. Historians believe the bodies of the dead were lowered down this shaft on ropes. The mourners, meanwhile, walked down the stairs around it. Notice how the steps are shallow. You do not need to rush here. Take a moment at the bottom, where the stair opens into a round central hall, called the rotunda.

Just off the rotunda is a room that surprises many visitors. It is a banqueting hall. Stone benches are carved straight out of the rock, arranged in a U shape around a central space. Families came here to share a meal in honour of the dead. They ate on the anniversary of a death and at other memorial times. This was a Greek and Roman custom. And here is a thought: the broken pots on the hill above may have come from meals like these.

From the rotunda, a passage leads down to the heart of the complex, the main tomb. Pause in front of its entrance. The doorway is framed by columns with tops shaped like bundled papyrus and lotus, an old Egyptian design. Above them sits a Greek-style triangular pediment. Two traditions meet in a single doorway. This mix is the reason the catacombs matter so much to historians.

Inside the vestibule, look for two statues standing in niches, a man and a woman. Many scholars believe they show the people buried in this tomb. Their bodies stand in the stiff, formal pose of Egyptian statues. Their faces, though, are carved in a more natural Greek and Roman style. The woman's hairstyle looks Roman. You are looking at Alexandrians who lived between cultures, and who chose to be remembered that way.

On either side of the inner doorway, look for two large carved serpents. They wear the double crown of Egypt. They also carry symbols linked to Greek and Egyptian gods. Above them, round shields carry the head of Medusa, the Greek monster whose stare turned people to stone. Here, her face was meant to protect the tomb. It is a guardian at the door, a warning to anyone who would disturb the dead.

Now comes perhaps the strangest image in the whole complex. Inside the burial chamber, look for Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian god of the dead. In one carving he wears the armour of a Roman soldier. He holds a spear and a shield. An ancient Egyptian god, dressed for the Roman army... It is a small detail that many visitors walk straight past. Yet it tells you more about Roman Alexandria than a long book could.

Around the walls of the chamber you will see three deep recesses with carved stone coffins. Their sides show scenes from Egyptian funeral rites, with priests and gods attending a mummy on its bier. Beyond them, long corridors are lined with rows of smaller niches cut into the rock. These held more bodies, stacked like shelves. Walk slowly here. The air is still, and your footsteps sound soft and close.

One side area is often called the Hall of Caracalla. Bones of both people and horses were found there. Some people link these remains to the Roman emperor Caracalla, who carried out a massacre in Alexandria in the early third century. That connection is a theory, not a proven fact. You may also notice that the lowest level is closed or flooded. Groundwater has risen into the deepest chambers over time, and protecting them is an ongoing challenge.

Before you climb back up, stand still for a moment in the rotunda. Listen to how quiet it is. Above you is a modern city of millions, with car horns and street sellers and the sea wind. Down here are the people who once ate, grieved, and remembered in this rock. As you walk up the spiral stair, feel the air grow warmer step by step. When you reach the daylight again, look at the ordinary ground around you, and wonder what else still lies beneath it.