Sailing on the nile — with Agatha Christie
The 1978 and 2004 movie adaptations of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile had truly stellar casts. Featured in the earlier version were the likes of Bette Davis, Maggie Smith, Angela Lansbury, and Peter Ustinov, while the later version had David Suchet and Emily Blunt. One can imagine what a typical day’s filming on location must have been like with such sparkling personalities carrying on in the intense heat of the Egyptian desert!
Despite the presence of such luminaries, the real stars of the show, for me, were the ships used in the movies: the SS Menmon in 1978 and the SS Sudan in 2004. These were elegant paddle steamers, vestiges of an older age. Sadly, of the many similar vessels that used to ply the river, only the Sudan and one other (the SS Misr) remain.
Built in Scotland way back in 1885 for the Egyptian royal family, the Sudan became part of the fleet of the pioneering tour operator Thomas Cook who used it for Nile cruises. One passenger of these cruises was Agatha Christie who sailed on the SS Sudan in 1933 with her new husband, the archaeologist Max Mallowan, whom she married in 1930.
This was a few years after her divorce from Archie Christie, her first husband, and her much-publicized 10-day disappearance. Evidently, this was a rather tumultuous period in the author’s life and a tranquil boat ride must have been a welcome respite. Aside from the break it provided, the trip aboard the Sudan would turn out to be quite productive. In 1937, Christie’s beloved Death on the Nile, would see print.
Today, one may still share Christie’s experience since the SS Sudan was rescued from oblivion to again travel Egypt’s great river as a cruise ship. Being a fan of both Christie and nostalgic boat rides, I welcomed the opportunity to sail on the Sudan some years back. Perhaps this yen derived from my trips by sea to Negros at a time when not “every Juan can fly.” Or perhaps I secretly cherished the possibility of being in the thick of a shipboard murder.
I was delighted to see that the SS Sudan was lovingly and faithfully restored by its new owners. Aside from the impressive feat of making an old boat function again, they were able to imbue the rooms and decks with a dynamic but authentic spirit that comfortably brought the past into the present.
The lounge was energized with pink chairs and brass fittings. Everywhere were old photographs and worn books. I checked the shelves and sure enough, Christie’s tome was there. The cabins and suites were very simple but elegant—some boasting antique armoires and polka dot bed covers in jewel tones that evoked the ornaments of forgotten princesses. The shipowners even honored Dame Agatha by naming a suite for her, along with a cabin christened Hercule Poirot after her most famous literary creation. One blessed feature: There were no television sets.
So comfortable were our personal spaces that one had to resist the urge to hole up and not venture outside. There was so much to be explored. We docked regularly to see wondrous sights: the temples of Karnak, Luxor, Edfu, Philae and many more. Just as fascinating was our passage through a modern marvel—the locks at Esna. Yet, wherever we may have roamed, it was always a pleasure to return to our floating haven. There was, indeed, a lot here to write about in future essays.
Another attraction was the food doled out by a friendly staff: warm breads, broiled meats, chickpea and olive spreads, a sweet cobbler. My tongue still tingles at the memory of a tangy vegetable terrine. All these were served in the dining room that was as sunny in the real world as it was in the film. It was here, during breakfast, that we often met our fellow passengers.
I must admit that I had quietly surveyed the other tables, checking if there was anyone that looked like potential murderers. Providentially, the smiling faces told me there were none. If anything, one of our companions insisted on going on our shore expeditions dressed in a linen suit and hat. Surely, this was not a man with homicide in his heart. This was no less than Hercule Poirot come to life! We even made special T-shirts based on old Nile cruise posters and luggage tags to give away as gifts.
Perhaps the restorers’ most commendable achievement was that they had left the decks almost bare, save for a few clusters of cane furniture and a sprinkling of brass plant pots. There was no swimming pool, no fountains. After all, who would need these contemporary facilities when everywhere stretched the Nile, the mother of history.
Many times I found myself all alone on the upper deck to witness the dawn. I saw how the horizon lightened as palm trees remained etched in silhouette and the waters shimmered. I saw birds tracing their flights on the dome of sky before the final blessing of the sun. I had seen many sunrises before in many places, but there was something different about what surrounded me as I stood on my perch on the deck of the Sudan. Always, I was reminded that I was on the Nile, the stream that arose where the morning began.
Pharaohs speak and then are silenced, temples rise and then are covered in sand, but the Nile remained constant, winding down the centuries. I watched newer cruise ships sail by with their televisions and their discotheques and their swimming pools, and I knew: I was on a ship that belonged to this land of pyramids, of sphinxes, of pillars with capitals in the shape of a cow.
On the SS Sudan, I was on a vessel made buoyant not just by water but by time.
