By Carine Saeed
The room was suffocating. I struggled to catch a deep breath. Sweat trickled down my back, reminding me yet again of the amount of time I spent in this cramped space. However, I refused to depart, not until everything was in its place. An opened tomb occupied more than half of this tiny booth. Its golden colors shimmered, forcing me to shift my attention to the body laying restlessly inside it.
Above the mummy’s chest was a safe, and besides its feet was a small canopic jar. Bastet, the Egyptian Goddess, stood proudly by the tomb, as if guarding all the items arranged around the booth. In the corner was an isolated wooden table. Its old age was evident by the jammed drawer. Contrasting the ancient ambiance of the chamber, a laptop was placed above the table.
Blinding lights attacked my eyes as I stepped out of the minuscule compartment. The first thing that grabbed my attention was the long queue awaiting their entrance into the escape room. I called for the first group.
“This escape room is a replica of Tutankhamun’s tomb,” I briefed the game participants, “Tutankhamun was the youngest king to rule Egypt, and died at the age of 19. There are several theories regarding his death, the first is that he got bit by a bug and the second was that he entered several wars.”
I inhaled before proceeding, “Tut had two horn trumpets. It is said that whenever someone blows into these trumpets a war would occur. This happened in World War I and II as well as in the war between Israel and Egypt in 1967. Since then, these trumpets were called Tut’s Trumpets of War.”
Following the background story were the instructions of the game.
“Your job is to find clues in 10 minutes to escape Tut’s curse. You have unlimited hints, but after the first hint, I start subtracting 30 seconds from your time.”
Voluntarily, I managed the escape room whilst the board members disappeared for their performances. Each group was between three to four participants. Upon their entry, I immediately commenced the timer. They search for clues, meanwhile, I simply watch them like a hawk.
“The game was amazing,” several groups said after they escaped. I must admit, the Egyptian board member who oversaw the pavilion designed the clues flawlessly.
Through the game, I met an infinite number of personalities. There were the smart kids. There were the students who wanted to take the full experience and worked out everything on their own. Lastly, there were the gentlemen who came to waste time, but these were the ones I laughed with the most.
“Can I take a picture with you?” One of the young girls who escaped the room inquired as soon as she finished, “you look like Mirabel!”
“Who is Mirabel?” I asked, completely unaware of Disney’s new productions.
“You know the character from Encanto, you look like her,” she looked at me with a cute pair of puppy eyes, as if she met a celebrity.
I left my stall for a few minutes, forcing my friend who accompanied me from the beginning of the day to take our photo.
“We met Mirabel!” The girl screamed boisterously, before fleeing to her mother.
Unaware of the time, my friend suddenly crashed into the room holding a pair of tickets.
“They will be up on the stage after a few minutes,” she announced, rushing me to pack the clues and shut the stall for a while.
Lack of time management had resulted in us sprinting to the main building where the Egyptian club was bound to get on stage. Although the music vibrated through the speakers, we could still hear our panting amongst ourselves.
The hall was packed.
Students, professors and parents sat side by side. Their eyes glued to the front, watching attentively the dances as one club after the other took to the stage.
Breathlessly, I take my phone out, ready to capture every scene from the performance.
The lights dimmed and two student council members joined the stage. One of the on-stage presenters started speaking, “the country of peace, gifted with the Nile and beautiful art. The country of the Pyramids, and the owner of the greatest history. The stage of Halim and Umm Kulthum. The kindest people and the best hosts. Put your hands together for the Egyptian Cultural Club.”
The crowd cheered.
Like a tour around Egypt, each dance represented a different region. In sync with the drums, the male performers tapped their feet against the wooden stage. Similarly, the females belly-danced along with the beat of the tambourines. Although the performers beamed, I could still sense their stress miles away. All they wanted at that point was for their hard work to pay off.
Two singers came on the stage. Unable to hold my tongue, I found myself singing along with every verse. Like a coordinated choir, the audience clapped following the rhythm. For a second, I forgot we were university students. I forgot that we might suffer the consequences of wasting two days in Global Day by pulling all-nighters for our next midterms.
All was forgotten.
There was only the song and us.
The Egyptian flag was raised as the show stumbled to an end. It flapped pridefully. It stood tall as though it was honored by its people.
We gathered in front of the pavilion for one final photo. Our smiles spread from ear to ear. The sense of nostalgia consumed us. Regardless of what tomorrow holds for us. Regardless of which club will win this Global Day.
In our eyes, we succeeded.
In our eyes, Tut’s trumpets were not cursed. They were the trumpets of triumph.
