As I drove back from another lame day-at-the-seaside
deal, I was gained by a paternal urge for more thought-provoking and exciting experiences,
and I parked by the fields in Plaine Magnien. I announced to my two kids and
nephew that we are embarking on an expedition for something hitherto unknown
of: pyramids! Even the nine-year old
trio poked fun at my proposition, but I was resolute. It was a serious mission,
and it may even be dangerous! I could see
the sparkle in their eyes as we equipped ourselves with a measuring tape, and
sticks to confront menacing sharp leaves and curious stray dogs deep in the
sugar cane fields. After an intense search by the hat-less Indiana Jones
wannabes, I faked a surprise: an actual pyramid! There was no fun-poking this
time. We stared in amazement, climbed and explored. We even measured the length of each side, and
how they systematically shortened with every step, equal in height within a
surprisingly short margin. After much labor, we earned our rest at the peak
with a magnificent view, engrossed in an intense discussion on the possible explanations,
weighting the merits of each possibility, however remote. When I suggested that
maybe people right here did it, while cleaning the land, my claim was immediately
challenged, drawing from freshly gathered data: why so perfect? My daughter was unequivocal – Egyptians
dropped by earlier, and her geography book needs revisiting.
I then recalled the article by Antoine Gigal, and the
similar conviction of having as-a-matter-of-factly “discovered”, not just
actual pyramids, but massive walls, hydraulic systems, terraces and road
systems of an unknown civilisation! She did not need much research to come to
this conclusion, it seems. Bosnian archeologist Semir Osmanagich was equally unambiguous
about distant intelligence behind our “meules”.
Such leaps of faith will make data-hungry inductivists
and science philosophers like Karl Popper wince (Popper favoured “empirical falsification”, a model
where facts are asserted only if they are falsifiable). But they would probably be equally
uncomfortable at the immediate dismissal of these experts by our journalists,
bloggers and historians, for daring to invent our history. They are just piles of rocks, for heaven’s
sake – some common sense please! But then I recall Einstein’s interpretation of
common sense: a collection of prejudices acquired by the age of 18.
Unlike the children, who too quickly shifted to Nintendo and PlayStation, my excitement lingered. Are there pyramids in Mauritius? Yes, there are! Maybe ones built by labourers in the 1940s, but pyramids nonetheless, by definition: structures with a polygon base converging to a single point. They need not be pharaonic - they exist in all shapes and sizes, in Sudan, Mexico, Nigeria, China, Peru, Spain, Indonesia. And yes, in Mauritius! Meticulously arranged, geometrically aligned, which begs the question: Why? Why this quest for perfect “piling” after a hard day’s toil? How much time, labour and level of craftsmanship would such artefacts require? What is the age and origin of the rocks? Who organised and engineered the construction? What is the basis of the remarkable similarity with those on Tenerife (near Spain) and elsewhere: coincidence, or natural disposition in human DNAs to pile in phallic forms, or shared expertise that spread through migration. Or, as argued about Pyramids of Güímar city (Spain), was it motivated by Freemason symbolism?
Whether erected by ancient civilisations to study astronomy or by inspired labourers, I think these little treasures are not getting the care, respect and attention they deserve. I yearn for enlightenment based on scholarly facts, not leaps of faith, or common-sense intellectualism. And if the pyramids were to remain a mystery (like in Tenerife), so be it. At least it can attract tourists - and provide creative material for our kids’ school compositions.
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