Al-Massala obelisk in Cairo’s northeastern district of Matariyyah as it stands today surrounded by a modern concrete apartment block
I recently visited the Al-Massala obelisk in Cairo’s northeastern district of Matariyyah, once the heart of ancient Heliopolis. It was my first time seeing the site, despite nearly 50 years of association with Egypt, and I arrived with a sense of curiosity shaped by old photographs. In my archives are numerous vintage images of the obelisk, dating from the mid-19th to the mid-20th century, and in each it stands alone, rising majestically above open agricultural fields.
The reality today is strikingly different. The obelisk now emerges from a dense urban landscape, framed by a vast, newly built apartment complex. For a moment, I felt I had arrived too late, imagining that only a few years earlier the fields might still have existed. But after speaking with the site’s caretaker, I learned that even this view was not new—the modern buildings had simply replaced older ones— “much uglier,” he assured me.
The Al-Massala obelisk in the 1910s, rising above open agricultural fields, and today, overshadowed by a modern apartment complex. Photo (left): Norbert Schiller Collection.
During the New Kingdom (c. 1539–1075 BCE), when Heliopolis was at the height of its power, dozens of obelisks stood within the precincts of its great temple complex. Today, only one remains: the 20.73-meter-tall Al-Massala obelisk, erected nearly 4,000 years ago by Pharaoh Senusret I during the Middle Kingdom. Carved from a single 120-ton block of red granite, it stands as the last surviving sentinel of what was once one of ancient Egypt’s most important religious centers.
In ancient Egypt, obelisks were dedicated to the sun god Ra—known in Heliopolis also as Amun—and served as a symbolic link between the earthly and the divine. Their four-sided form represented the sun’s rays, while the pointed tip, or pyramidion, was often covered in electrum, a mixture of gold and silver. Catching the first light of dawn and the last glow of sunset, the shining apex was believed to draw the power of the sun down to earth.
Comparative views of the Al-Massala obelisk spanning the 1880s, the 1960s, and today. Photos (left: J.P. Sebah; center): Norbert Schiller Collection.
Heliopolis remained a center of power for more than 2,500 years, but it suffered considerable damage during the Persian invasions of 525 and 343 BCE. During these campaigns, the temple complex was destroyed and its wealth looted, leaving what had once been a thriving religious center in ruins.
After Alexander the Great conquered Egypt in 332 BCE, the capital and center of power shifted to Alexandria. In time, the ancient cult of the sun god Ra gave way to the Greco-Egyptian deity Serapis. By introducing this new god, Ptolemy I Soter—who ruled Egypt from 305 to 282 BCE—created a unifying figure that could be worshipped by both Egyptians and Greeks alike.
Another early 20th-century view of the Al-Massala obelisk, presented alongside two recent images.
The next blow to Heliopolis came in 30 BCE, when the Roman Empire annexed Egypt. By then, the temple complex was already in ruins, with only its obelisks still standing. Over the next four centuries, the Romans removed 48 obelisks from Egypt, including eight from Heliopolis, and transported them across the empire. Today, 23 of these obelisks survive outside Egypt, including 13 in Italy (eight of them in Rome), four in the United Kingdom, and one each in France, Turkey, the United States, Poland, Israel/Palestine, and St. Peter’s Square in the Vatican.
By the time of the Arab conquest in 641 CE, little remained of the ancient temple of Heliopolis beyond scattered rubble and the Al-Massala obelisk. As Cairo began to take shape and expand into a major city, the demand for building materials grew, and the ruins of antiquity became a convenient source of stone. Blocks from the temples of Heliopolis, along with stones taken from other ancient sites such as the Giza pyramids, were reused in the construction of mosques, homes, and the city’s defensive walls. Even today, one can spot fragments of carved reliefs and hieroglyphs—remnants of Heliopolis—set into the fabric of old buildings and sections of Cairo’s historic walls.
The Virgin’s Tree in 2015, two years after its collapse due to rising groundwater (left), and as it appears today with a full canopy. Photo (left): unknown.
The last vestige of ancient Heliopolis now faces a different kind of threat—one not from invading armies, but from a rising water table driven by rapid urbanization. In 2013, the Virgin’s Tree, located about a kilometer away—where, according to Coptic tradition, the Holy Family took shelter during their flight into Egypt—collapsed, initially sparking speculation of foul play. An investigation later determined that saturated roots, caused by rising groundwater, were to blame. Fortunately, two shoots survived, and today the tree has regained a full canopy. The underlying problem, however, remains. As the surrounding urban area continues to expand, so too does the risk that these same conditions could once again threaten the last remaining obelisk of Heliopolis.
