The first generation in a successful family firm has made its way from the bottom to the top. The old man’s had it tough, and tough is character forming. The second generation may have been born into affluence, but they’ve been brought up by a Dad who knows how lucky they are and never lets them forget it. So the kids feel all the responsibility of getting the fruits of Dad’s labour on a plate. The trouble always starts with the third generation. The grandkids are spoiled rotten. They’re ungrateful, arrogant brats – or worse.
Look at this family portrait:
You’ll recognise the fine, upstanding figure in the middle immediately; that’s Shu. Ignore the ram-headed characters; on either side of Shu; they don’t concern us in this dynastic history. The other two figures are Shu’s children, Geb and Nut and, like many a Dad then and now, he’s having to keep them apart.
That’s Shu and Tefnut’s boy, Geb, on the bottom, lying at Shu’s feet. Geb was the god of the earth, so that’s a very good place for him to lie. The Nile rippled the length of his naked torso, which is often coloured green to represent the fertile vegetation of the Nile Valley. In fact, Geb was so fertile that barley sprouted from his ribcage. He sounds quite attractive, doesn’t he?
However, beneath many a lush exterior lurks a far less enticing interior, and it was certainly better to stop at the surface of Geb than to gain a more intimate acquaintance with what went on underneath. For the deceased Egyptian, buried in the soil of Geb, he was a malevolent imprisoner. Sound like any of your board? Read on…
You’ll notice that Geb’s mother Tefnut is not in the family portrait, even though Shu had left her behind as regent when he retired to the heavens following the rebellion in the company ranks. The ugly truth is that, when Shu retired, Geb sexually abused his own mother Tefnut, and tried to seize his father’s crown. You can’t blame her for not turning up for the photoshoot.
The incestuous rape of Tefnut was probably just another way of Geb usurping his father’s position. Geb’s real design was on the crown.
When Geb tried to steal Shu’s crown, he came with a crowd of supporters and yes-men to take it from the casket in which it lay. As soon as he lifted the lid, the sacred cobra which sat on the King’s brow shot out spitting fire, killed his whole entourage and injured Geb himself. Well, you know what vicious threshold guardians these bosses’ secretaries can be.
The immediate result of Geb’s attempt to steal Shu’s crown was a badly burned hand which needed specialist treatment from the sun god, Re. However, there was a nine-day stormy period when the company was in crisis and no-one seems to have been in charge. When, finally, order was restored, guess what? The thieving, incestuous rapist Geb was crowned King in Shu’s place. We’ve all seen the crown go to the undeserving. And it makes you suspect that Geb may have had something to do with the original rebellion.
Deserving or not, the ancient Egyptian throne came to be knows as the throne of Geb, and the Egyptian King himself was known as the heir of Geb, so Geb was pretty good at rebranding. The floor of a temple, or of the embalming house, was regarded as Geb. The bedrock of the company – or maybe just a pile of dirt.