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A CONNECTION TO INDIA? LALIBELA AND LIBONOS, THE KING AND THE HYDRO-ENGINEER

OF 13TH CENTURY ETHIOPIA // MARK JARZOMBEK

The complex of twelve rock-cut churches in the city of Lalibela, Ethiopia, constitutes one of the

world’s great architectural ensembles. 1 A lofty, UNESCO-funded, space-frame roof protects

some of the churches from the ravages of heat and time. The attention that this site has re-

ceived in recent decades has intensified scholarly debates about the churches. How were they

built? Who designed and directed the operation, and who were the masons? What religious

iconography underlies their design? What was their liturgical function? Were they modeled on

the Holy Land? Were all twelve built by King Lalibela, who ruled in the early thirteenth century,

as tradition claims? 2 While such issues are central to our understanding of the churches, this

paper considers a neglected, if no less important, aspect of this religious site: the significance

of water. I will argue that the buildings of Lalibela are just as much a hydro-engineering marvel

guaranteeing the city’s economic existence as they are an attribute of religious symbolism.

Lalibela is given little recognition in this regard, even though the most astonishing aspect of

the pools associated with the churches is that they are located at the top of a high plateau, one

thousand meters above the valley floor.

To get a broader historical picture of Lalibela, one has to start with the demise of the Ax-

umite civilization in the eighth century CE. Axum, in northern Ethiopia, rose to prominence in

the fourth century BCE as a metal-producing center and as an important, regional geopolitical

power with connections stretching eastward across the Red Sea to Yemen and westward to

Nubia. By the fifth century CE, the kingdom began to fade in importance, and the area suffered

a period of prolonged decline until the rise of the Zagwe Dynasty in the eleventh century,

which had its center in the mountain villages of the Ethiopian Highlands south of Axum. The

Zagwe, under the leadership of a priest-king, were Christian; their conversion took place dur-

ing the Axumite kingdom in the fourth century. Yemrehanna Krestos, who ruled at the end of

the twelfth century, was apparently the first Zagwe king to define the parameters of the state,

ruling Ethiopia according to the Apostolic Canons. 3 His capital was centered in a now-remote

part of the Ethiopian Highlands, some two hundred kilometers south of Axum. Today, all that

remains are his palace and a church known by his name, which is still used by the local popu-

lation and the occasional pilgrim. The buildings are located just inside the mouth of a large,

natural cave and have spectacular views eastward into the surrounding valleys. The site was

chosen because the cave, despite its elevation of two thousand six hundred meters above sea

level, had a remarkable feature within: a natural lake. All that was needed was to reinforce the

shore of the lake with foundations to support the church and the palace, and to seal off the

space between the buildings with a floor. Access to the water below was provided by a trap

door directly in front of the church and still exists today.

The Yemrehanna Krestos church was an important pilgrimage center. Today, one can see

the bones of thousands of pilgrims – who, according to legend, came from far-off places –

piled up at the back of the cave. However, Yemrehanna’s city failed and, apart from the church

complex, has long since disappeared. Perhaps there was not enough water for a flourishing

city, aside from that one, single source. Or perhaps the farming along the steep hills was insuf-

ficient to support the population.

When he inherited the throne, Yemrehanna’s younger brother, Lalibela (1181–1221), moved

the capital – which was named after him posthumously – somewhat further south to the top

of a ridge high above the valley floor. In the design of the city, originally known as Roha, there

was not just one church, but at least twelve, all richly endowed and housing a substantial

priestly class, who lived off the gifts of food and money from peasants and pilgrims. Even to-

day, Lalibela remains Ethiopia’s leading pilgrimage site, welcoming between twenty thousand

to fifty thousand believers during important holidays and supporting, at last count, about three

1 // Research was made possible by

an MIT School of Humanities, Art,

and Social Sciences Research grant.

2 // Among the most recent scholars,

there are the following works: Jac-

queline Pirenne, “La signification

symbolique des églises de Lalibéla,

à partir des inscriptions découvertes

en 1980–1983,” in Proceedings of the

Eighth International Conference of

Ethiopian Studies, University of Ad-

dis Ababa, 1984, ed. Taddese Beyene

(Addis Ababa: Addis Ababa Univer-

sity Institute of Ethiopian Studies,

1989), 137–45; Michael Gervers, “The

Rehabilitation of the Zague Kings and

the Building of the Dabra Sina–Gol-

gotha–Sellassie Complex in Lalibala,”

Africana Bulletin 51 (2003). Available

online at: http://www.utoronto.ca/

deeds/pubs/golgotha/golgotha.html;

Marilyn E. Heldman, “Architectural

Symbolism, Sacred Geography and

the Ethiopian Church,” Journal of

Religion in Africa 22, no. 3 (August

1992): 222–41; Gigar Tesfaye, with the

collaboration of Jacqueline Pirenne,

“Inscriptions sur bois de trois églises

de Lalibala,” Journal of Ethiopian

Studies 17 (1984): 107–43; D.R. Bux-

ton, “Ethiopian Medieval Architecture

– The Present State of Studies,” in

Ethiopian Studies, papers read at the

Second International Conference of

Ethiopian Studies (Manchester Uni-

versity, July 1963), eds. C. F. Becking-

ham and Edward Ullendorff, Journal

of Semitic Studies 9 (1964): 239–44;

Emeri van Donzel, “Ethiopia’s Lali-

bäla and the fall of Jerusalem 1187,”

Aethiopica 1 (1998): 27–49; Taddesse

Tamrat, Church and State in Ethiopia,

1270–1527 (Oxford: Clarendon Press,

1972).

3 // Taddesse Tamrat, Church and

State in Ethiopia, 1270–1527 (Oxford:

Clarendon Press, 1972).

WATER // 77

4 // Crusader-castle water systems

are only starting to be studied. On

Petra, see Ortloff, Charles R, “The

Water Supply and Distribution

System of the Nabataean City of

Petra (Jordan), 300 BC–AD 300,”

Cambridge Archaeological Journal

15, no. 1 (2005): 93–109. Available

online at: http://journals.cambridge.

org/production/action/cjoGetFulltex

t?fulltextid=302831

b // Church of Yemrehanna Krestos’s

trap door giving access to under-

ground cistern

c // Painting of Libanos (in the church,

Biet Abba Libanos, Lalibela) showing

him striking the top of the mountain

with his spade to produce water

d // View of Bete Giyorgis, Lalibela,

with water tank

hundred fifty priests and two hundred fifty deacons who are training to be priests, along with

hundreds of monks and students.

The churches were built using a relatively unconventional technology: they were carved

downwards into the bedrock. This technique dates back at least to 1244 BCE with the build-

ing of the Abu Simbel temple by Pharaoh Ramesses II. In the fifth century BCE, the Lycians

built hundreds of rock-cut tombs in Anatolia on a similar model, though smaller in scale. The

ancient Etruscans of central Italy also left an important legacy of rock-cut architecture – mostly

tombs such as those near the city of Tarquinia – as did the Nabataeans in their city of Petra,

now in Jordan. 4 The most spectacular examples are to be found in India, where one finds rock-

cut sanctuaries dating from the third century BCE to the eleventh century CE.

One key aspect of the Ethiopian churches is that the interiors were carved with just as much

detail as the exteriors. The skill needed to accomplish this must be factored into the discus-

sion. Such rock-cut buildings are, for logical reasons, carved from the top down. This also ap-

plies to the interior, requiring a great deal of coordination among the masons, who start at the

vaults and then work their way downward to the floor, with a complete, ‘reverse’ plan already

sketched out in their mind. There are other rock-cut churches further to the south, near the

modern city of Addis Ababa, but they all date to roughly the same period – the late twelfth to

early thirteenth century.

The question of how the technique of rock-cut architecture came to Ethiopia may never be

solved, but its quick arrival and the lack of evidence about interim stages of development strongly

indicate that persons skilled in this technique came from elsewhere or were contracted from

outside sources. One strong possibility is that the technique came from India, where rock-cut ar-

chitecture has a history spanning one thousand years. The epitome of Indian rock-cut architecture

is at Ellora, where various Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain cave temples and monasteries were built

mostly between the fifth and tenth centuries CE; they are complex constructions, not only exter-

nally, but with elaborately carved interiors as well, much like at Lalibela. But it is perhaps not just

the rock-cutting technique that came from India, but the larger ‘package’ of building and water.

At first glance, the siting of Lalibela on the top of a plateau high above the river might seem

odd. But an exposed site by the river would not have been easy to defend, and this reason

is often given as an explanation for the choice of the site. There was an additional factor: re-

markably, at the very top there was water. Although there are no hydro-geological studies of

the site, it is nearly indisputable that the water comes from an artesian pressure system. As is

common with artesian systems, the source is miles away – in the Lasta mountain range to the

north, which rises to over three thousand meters. With an elevation of about two thousand

meters, Lalibela is, in essence, in the foothills of these mountains, the tallest of which is Mount

Abuna Joseph. The springs were certainly known by local villagers long before the village was

transformed into a capital. But there is a big difference between water leaching out of rocks in

a natural process and the water distribution system that was put into place. The design of the

water system was accomplished in coordination with the design of the churches. The central

theme of the site, in fact, is the ‘River Jordan,’ which is represented by an artificial canyon

located between the two clusters of churches and ‘flows’ into a naturally-occurring seam be-

tween two hills. A river at the very top of a ridge might seem to be more symbolic than real,

but it was real to a great degree and thus also magical. A spring is located at its apex and its

water channeled through the site and down along the hillside to the farms.

In making the churches, it is clear that the architects first had to establish the water pressure

level as this would mark the depth of the excavation around the church, and thus the scale and

proportion of the building. Care had to be taken to find a balance between the depth of the floor

of the churches and the height of the water in the wells. If the floor level was too low, it would fill

up with water and be unusable. The engineers had to find just the right depth – deep enough so

there was room for a church to be carved, but not too deep that access was difficult.

This remarkable aspect of the design process had to be repeated numerous times, since al-

most all of the principal churches each have a water tank associated with them. In the wet sea-

son, the overflow runs through specially constructed channels into the ‘River Jordan.’ In most

b //

c //

d //

78 // WATER

Mark Jarzombek is professor of His-

tory and Theory of Architecture at the

Massachusetts Institute of Technol-

ogy in Cambridge, MA, where he is

currently also the associate dean of

the School of Architecture and Plan-

ning. He has worked on a range of

historical topics from the Renaissance

to the modern age.

e // View of a water tank at the top of

the hill at Mahabalipuram, India

f // View of a second water tank at the

top of the hill at Mahabalipuram, India

g // Sketch showing plan and probable

section of the church-palace complex

of Yemrehanna Krestos

h // View from the church-palace com-

plex of Yemrehanna Krestos

of the pools, papyrus grows on the surface. These pools serve a special religious purpose that

is still enacted today. During a special ceremony, infertile women are lowered into the pool as

a way to restore their fecundity. The papyrus symbolizes rebirth, the birth of Moses, and the

Nile River, thus adding to the symbolic charge of the pools. Bete Giyorgis, the famous cross-

shaped church, not only has a pool of its own, but also a special corridor oriented eastward,

leading to a sacred spring.

Nothing is known for sure about Lalibela’s architect or engineer. But there are some clues.

One of the churches is named after a certain Abba Libanos, who must have held consider-

able stature in the community since this is the only church not dedicated to a saint or biblical

figure. Inside the church, one can still see a painting, probably a nineteenth-century copy of a

lost original, showing him holding a cane against the top of a mountain. The cane has a cross

on top, and, though made of wood, has a metal tip at the end in the shape of a small spade.

From the spot where it touches the earth – at the top of a hill – a river springs forth. It is unique

among the representations of holy men in Lalibela and is clearly a reference to Moses striking

water from the rock.

Who Libanos was is open to conjecture. He could have been a native Ethiopian, and it is

most certain that a tradition of water engineering existed, dating back centuries. But how far

that tradition had developed is unknown; given the evidence currently available, it was not

put to use at Yemrehanna Krestos. Did Libanos travel to other cities to perfect his craft? Did

other water specialists come to Lalibela as part of his team? It is possible that Libanos was

not Ethiopian, but came from somewhere else as a consultant? One possibility is that Libanos

came from India or had trained there.

Indian Hindu architecture is almost always associated with the purifying and symbolic func-

tion of the Ganges River. This river is actually recreated at some sites. At Ellora, for example,

an artesian well at the top of the hill feeds a now-dry ‘river’ that runs down into the site. But the

most dramatic example is found at Mahabalipuram, on India’s eastern coast. Between the sev-

enth and ninth centuries CE, when it was one of India’s leading port cities, a series of rock-cut

temples were constructed in and along a nearby plateau. A ‘Ganges River’ runs down the hill

from two artesian tanks located at the topmost level of the plateau. One of the tanks is dried

up as a consequence of global warming, but the other is still filled with water. The similarities

between Mahabalipuram and Lalibela are too close to be ignored. Both sites use an artesian

water system to irrigate a symbolic river. Unfortunately, as with modern day Lalibela, there are

no studies about the hydro-engineering of Mahabalipuram or, for that matter, Ellora.

What I have been trying to argue is that the carving of the churches and the aqua-engineering

were not separate realities, but bound up with each other. Furthermore, in studying such inter-

related systems, it is also clear that India is the place where a balance between architecture and

water has been achieved at numerous sites. Thus it is easy to imagine that there was a knowl-

edge transfer between Ethiopia and India. Ethiopia was not a land-locked kingdom, but con-

nected to the world through its ports along the Red Sea. What is certain is that Lalibela’s water

system served two economies. On the one hand, it was central to the agriculture and economy

of the region; on the other, it was part of a brilliantly designed, politico-religious economy that

was evidence of divine sanction, and, as such, was ‘proof’ of Libanos’s chosen status. //

e //

f //

g //

h //

WATER // 79