Watching the most up to date (I reckon) special on King Tut last month, from 2014, had me spellbound because haven’t been keeping up.
Five years or so ago, the usual rehash had bored me to tears and I’d bowed out indefinitely to give researchers time to come up with something new. Well, imagine my surprise to find out that nearly all of the mysteries about the boy king have either been confirmed or solved to the scientific world’s satisfaction by the most advanced forensics available these days. Even the mold-laden walls of his tomb have been explained (unexpected death meant a burial so quick that the paint didn’t have time to dry on the walls before they threw all of his afterlife necessities in there and sealed it up).
Things like gynecomastia running in his family, and him being frail and having an overbite, a deformed foot, malaria, and succumbing to an accidental infection were fascinating, but the big thing that has eluded folks for the longest are his genetics. Who sired him has been an educated guess and his mother has been a complete mystery, until now.
So here I am, years late, not expecting Tut’s mama to ever be found. But then the results were revealed to me in this show, with a better than 99.99% probability.
Holy cow. I jumped up out of my chair and shouted at the TV in true Maury Show fashion:
“Pharaoh Ahkenaten, you ARE the father! Younger Lady KV35, you ARE the mother!”
Then I ran to the back of the house with both arms flailing.
(His daddy and mama being brother and sister wasn’t a surprise. That was how they rolled. *shrug*)
READ: Linda G. Hill, One-Liner Wednesday — They Lied!