The Intelligence Officer - "On the Heels of De Wet"

Hugh Walpole - "The Cathedral"

George Eliot - "How Lisa Loved the King"

Scott Nearing - "The Debs Decision"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria

M >> Morris Jastrow >> The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria




The problem, however, is somewhat different in the story of the descent
of Ishtar, from the one propounded in the twelfth tablet of the
Gilgamesh epic. The question uppermost in the mind of the mourner is
"Will the dead return?" The condition of the dead, which is most
prominent in Gilgamesh's mind, is secondary. Both questions, however,
are answered, and both answers are hopelessly sad. The nether world is
joyless. Even the goddess Ishtar is badly treated upon entering it. The
place is synonymous with inactivity and decay; and, though the goddess
returns, the conclusion drawn is that the exception proves the
inexorable rule. A goddess may escape, but mortals are doomed to
everlasting sojourn, or rather imprisonment, in the realm presided over
by Allatu and her consort Nergal. The tale begins with a description of
the land to which Ishtar proceeds:

To the land whence there is no return, the land of darkness (?)[1154]
Ishtar, the daughter of Sin, turned her mind,
The daughter of Sin turned her mind;
To the house of darkness, the dwelling of Irkalla,
To the house whence no one issues who has once entered it.
To the road from which there is no return, when once it has been
trodden.
To the house whose inhabitants[1155] are deprived of light.
The place where dust is their[1156] nourishment, their food clay.
They[1157] have no light, dwelling in dense darkness.
And they are clothed like birds, in a garment of feathers;
Where over gate and bolt, dust is scattered.

Ishtar, it will be observed, is here called the daughter of the
moon-god, whereas in the Gilgamesh epic she appears as the daughter of
Anu, the god of heaven. Both designations reflect the views developed in
the schools, and prove that the story has been produced under scholastic
influences. The goddess has her place in the heavens, in the planet
bearing her name, and the designation of this planet as the daughter of
Sin can only be understood in connection with the astronomical system,
in which the moon plays so prominent a role[1158] and becomes the father
of all the great gods (except Shamash) who constitute the lesser
luminaries of the night.

Irkalla is one of the names[1159] for a god of the nether world, who is
regarded as the associate of Allatu. The dwelling is elsewhere spoken of
as a 'great palace' in which Allatu and her consort Nergal have their
thrones. A gloomier place than the one described in these opening lines
of the story cannot well be imagined. The picture reflects the popular
views, and up to this point, the doctrines of the school are in
agreement with the early beliefs. The description of the lower world is
evidently suggested by the grave or the cave in which the dead were
laid. The reference to dust and clay as the food of the dead shows that
the doctrine taught in the Gilgamesh epic,[1160] of man's being formed
of clay and returning to clay, was the common one. This view helps us to
understand how the words for grave came to be used as synonyms for the
nether world. The dead being placed below the earth, they were actually
conveyed within the realm of which Aralu was a part, and since it became
customary for the Babylonians to bury their dead together, the cities of
the dead that thus arose could easily be imagined to constitute the
kingdom presided over by Allatu and Nergal. At this point, however, the
speculations of the schools begin to diverge from the popular notions.
We may well question whether the Babylonian populace ever attempted to
make clear to itself in what form the dead continued their existence. It
may be that the argument from dreams, as the basis for the primitive
belief in the continuation of life, in some form, after death has been
too hard pressed,[1161] but certainly the appearance of the dead in the
dreams of the living must have produced a profound impression, and since
the dead appeared in the same form that they had while alive, the
conclusion was natural that, even though the body decayed, a vague
outline remained that bore the same relation to the _corpus_ as the
shadow to the figure casting it. Two remarkable chapters in the Old
Testament[1162] illustrate this popular view prevailing in Babylonia, as
to the condition of the dead in the nether world. The prophets Isaiah
and Ezekiel both portray the dead as having the same form that they
possessed while alive. The kings have their crowns on their heads; the
warriors lie with their swords girded about them. The dead Eabani, it
will be recalled, appears to Gilgamesh and is at once recognized by the
latter. What distinguishes the dead from the living is their inactivity.
They lie in Aralu without doing anything. Everything there is in a state
of neglect and decay. The dead can speak, but the Babylonians probably
believed, like the Hebrews, that the dead talk in whispers, or chirp
like birds.[1163] The dead are weak,[1164] and, therefore, unless others
attend to their needs, they suffer pangs of hunger, or must content
themselves with 'dust and clay' as their food. Tender care during the
last moments of life was essential to comparative well-being in
Aralu.[1165] The person who goes to Aralu in sorrow and neglect will
continue sorrowful and neglected.

The theologians, while accepting these views in general, passed beyond
them in an important particular. They could not reconcile the evident
dissolution of the body with a continuation of even a shadowy outline.
When a man died, the 'spirit,' which, according to the animistic theory,
lodged somewhere within the body and produced the manifestations of
life, sought for refuge in some other substance. The ease with which
birds moved from one place to another suggested these beings as the ones
in which the dislodged spirit found a home. The Babylonian thinkers were
not alone in developing the view that the dead assumed the form of
birds. Parallels to the pictures of the dead in the story of Ishtar's
descent may be found in Egypt and elsewhere.[1166] But what is important
for our purposes is the consideration that, in Babylonia at least, the
view in question is not the popular one, but the result of speculations
about a problem that appeals only to those who make the attempt, at
least, to clarify their ideas regarding the mystery of death. The next
section of the story affords us a picture of the entrance to Aralu:

When Ishtar arrived at the gate of the land without return,
She spoke to the watchman of the gate:
Ho! watchman--open thy gate.
Open thy gate that I may enter.
If thou dost not open the gate, if thou refusest me admission,
I will smash the door, break the bolt.
I will smash the threshold, force open the portals.
I will raise up the dead to eat the living
Until the dead outnumber the living.

The entrance to the nether world is strongly guarded. From other sources
we learn that there was a 'spy'--perhaps identical with the
watchman--stationed at the portal of the lower world, who reports all
happenings to the queen Allatu through Namtar, the god (or spirit) of
pestilence. The watchman is to prevent the living from entering, and
also the dead from escaping.

The violence of Ishtar is an interesting touch in the narrative. As a
goddess, she resents any opposition to her desires. Her anxiety to enter
Aralu indicates that the original form of the myth, which must have
represented the descent as forced and not voluntary, has been modified
by the introduction of a new factor,--the search for her dead consort,
Tammuz. The character of Ishtar as the goddess of war[1167] may also
have influenced this portrayal of her rage. In her violence, she
threatens a conflict between the dead and the living. The former will
destroy[1168] the latter, as a victorious army butchers the hostile
host. The watchman endeavors to pacify the enraged Ishtar:

The watchman opened his mouth and spoke.
Spoke to the great Ishtar:
Hold, O mistress, do not destroy them.[1169]
I will go and mention thy name to the queen Allatu.

Allatu is grieved upon hearing the news of Ishtar's arrival, for
Ishtar's disappearance from the world means death.

I must weep for the masters who forsake their consorts.
I must weep for the wives who are torn from their husbands' side.
For the children I must weep who are snatched away (?) before their
time.
Go, watchman, open thy gate.
Deal with her according to the ancient laws.

The scene that follows embodies, again, views of the nether world as
developed in the schools. Corresponding to the seven zones surrounding
the earth,[1170] the nether world is pictured as enclosed by seven
gates. Through these Ishtar must pass, before she is ushered into the
presence of Allatu.

The watchman went and opened his gate.
Enter, O mistress, welcome in Cuthah.[1171]
The great house[1172] of the land without return greets thee.[1173]
Through the first gate he led her, and boldly removed the great crown
from her head.
Why, O watchman, dost thou remove the great crown from my head?
Enter, O mistress, such are the laws of Allatu.

At the second gate, he removes the earrings of the goddess; at the
third, her necklace is taken away, and, similarly, at each succeeding
gate, a portion of her dress, the ornaments on her breast, her belt of
precious stones, her bracelets, until, when the seventh gate is reached,
the covering over her loins is removed, and she stands naked before
Allatu. At each gate Ishtar asks the same question, why the watchman
strips her, and the same answer is given.

The removal of one ornament after the other symbolizes, evidently, the
gradual decay of vegetation, not, as has been supposed, that the dead
enter Aralu naked.

Allatu calls upon her messenger, Namtar, to strike the goddess with
disease in all parts of her body. The disease expresses the same idea as
the removal of the ornaments,--decay of strength. There follows a
description of the desolation on earth during Ishtar's sojourn with
Allatu. Productivity comes to a standstill.

The ox does not mount the cow, the ass does not bend over the she-ass.

Among mankind, likewise, fertility ceases. The gods lament the absence
of Ishtar and the fate that overtook her. The astronomical conception of
Ishtar as the planet Venus, at this point, is apparent. The gods
complain.

Ishtar has descended to the earth, and has not come up.

As a planet, Ishtar's seat is in the heavens. The disappearance of the
planet has been combined with the nature-myth of the decay of
vegetation. As the evening star, Venus dips down into the west, to
reappear after a long interval in the east. The astral character of
Ishtar dominates the latter half of the story in its present form. It is
not the goddess of love and fertility nor the goddess of war who is
rescued from her prison by Ea, but the planet Ishtar. Shamash is
informed of the disaster by his servant, Pap-sukal.[1174] The sun-god
proceeds for aid to Sin and Ea. The latter furnishes relief. The sun
enters Ea's domain every evening, and, since it is in the west that the
planet sinks like the sun, the association of ideas becomes apparent
which suggests Ea as the savior and the sun as the mediator.

Ea created in his wisdom a male being.
He formed Uddushu-namir, a divine servant.
Go, Uddushu-namir, to the gate of the land without return, turn thy
face.
The seven gates of the land without return will be opened before thee.
Allatu will see thee and welcome thee
After her heart is pacified, her spirit[1175] brightened.
Invoke against her the name of the great gods.
Raise thy countenance, to Sukhal-ziku direct thy attention.
Come, mistress, grant me Sukhal-ziku, that I may drink[1176]
therefrom.

Ea appears here again in the role of Creator.[1177] The name of the
mysterious being created by Ea signifies 'renewal of light.' The
incident, it will be seen, is wholly symbolical. A touch of mysticism
has also been introduced. Sukhal-ziku is a compound of a word meaning
'to sprinkle' and another which may mean 'grotto.'[1178] Sukhal-ziku
appears, therefore, to be the name for a mysterious fountain, the waters
of which restore the dead to life.

Uddushu-namir having pronounced the name of the gods before Allatu, and
having thus secured their aid, his request is in the nature of an order.
But the request must not be interpreted literally, as though the waters
were intended for him. It is for the sake of Ishtar that he desires to
have the use of Sukhal-ziku. Allatu understands Uddushu-namir's speech
in this sense, and is enraged at the order to yield up Ishtar.

Allalu, upon hearing this,
Smote her sides and bit her finger.[1179]
Thou hast demanded of me a request that should not be requested.
Come, Uddushu-namir, I will curse thee with a terrible curse.
Food from the gutters of the city be thy nourishment.
The sewers (?) of the city be thy drink.
The shadow of the wall be thy seat.
The threshold be thy dwelling.
Exile and banishment break thy strength.

The force of the curse lies in the closing words. Uddushu-namir is to be
an outcast. He will not be permitted to enter either city or house, but
must remain at the wall or stop at the threshold. Properly prepared food
and drink are to be denied him. He shall starve or perish miserably.

But the mission of Uddushu-namir has been accomplished. Allatu may curse
as she pleases; the order of Ea must be obeyed.

The goddess Allalu opened her mouth and spoke.
To Namtar, her messenger, she addressed an order:
Go, Namtar, smash the true palace.[1180]
Break down the threshold, destroy the door-posts (?).
Bring out the Anunnaki and place them on golden thrones.
Besprinkle Ishtar with the waters of life and take her from me.

Namtar obeys the order. Ishtar is led through the seven gates. At each
one, the articles taken from her on her entrance are returned: at the
first, the loin cloth; at the second, the bracelets and ankle rings, and
so on, until she emerges in her full beauty.

The close of the story thus brings to our gaze once more Ishtar as
goddess of fertility, who gradually brings vegetation, strength, and
productivity back again. This curious mixture in the story of the astral
Ishtar,--the creation of the astronomers,--and the popular Ishtar, is a
trait which shows how the old nature-myth has been elaborated in passing
through the hands of the _literati_. The various steps in the process
can still be seen. In the original form, the goddess must have been
forced into an exile to the nether world, the exile symbolizing the
wintry season when fertility and productivity[1181] come to an end.
Ishtar is stripped of her glory. She comes to Allatu, who grieves at her
approach, but imprisons her in the 'great house,' and refuses to yield
her up, until forced to do so by order of the gods. A similar story must
have been told of Tammuz, the sun-god, who is also the god of
vegetation. The two stories were combined. Ishtar marries Tammuz, and
then destroys him. The goddess produces fertility, but cannot maintain
it. Tammuz goes to the nether world. Ishtar repents, bewails her loss,
and goes to seek for her consort and to rescue him. In rage she advances
to Allatu, threatens to smash the door and break the lock unless
admitted. The story in this form must have ended in the restoration of
Tammuz. The identification of Ishtar with the planet Venus introduced a
new factor. The disappearance of the planet fitted in well with the
original nature-myth. The combination of the Ishtar-Tammuz story with
this factor resulted in the tale as we have it now. The enraged Ishtar
is the one who seeks for her consort. The Ishtar who is forced to give
up her ornaments is the old goddess who falls into the hands of Allatu.
During her absence, production comes to a standstill; decay sets in. The
Ishtar who is rescued by Ea through the mediation of the 'Renewal of
Light' is the astral Ishtar, as developed by the astronomers, and,
finally, the Ishtar who receives her ornaments back again and comes to
the upper world, is once more the goddess of vegetation, rescued from
her exile to new glory. Up to this point, Tammuz has not been mentioned
in the story. In the advice, however, that is given at the conclusion of
the tale to mourners, the consort of Ishtar is introduced.

If she[1182] will not grant her redemption,[1183] turn to her[1184]
[thy countenance?]
To Tammuz, her youthful consort,
Pour out pure waters, costly oil [offer him?].

The mourners are furthermore instructed to institute a formal
lamentation. The Ukhati,[1185] the priestesses of Ishtar, are to sing
dirges; flutes are to accompany the song. The thought intended,
apparently, to be conveyed is that if Allatu will not give up the dead,
the surviving relatives should endeavor to secure the good grace of
Ishtar and Tammuz, who succeeded in subduing Allatu.

The closing lines are rendered obscure by a reference to the goddess
Belili, who appears to be the sister of Tammuz. The reference assumes
the knowledge of a tale in which the goddess was represented as breaking
a costly vessel adorned with precious stones, in sign of her grief for
the lost Tammuz. Suitable mourning for Tammuz, therefore, will secure
the sympathy of Belili also. The story thus ends with a warning to all
who mourn for their dead to remember Tammuz, to observe the rites set
aside for the festival celebrated in his honor.

Bearing in mind the tentative character of any interpretation for the
closing lines, we may mention Jeremias'[1186] supposition that it is a
deceased sister who addresses her sorrowing brother at the end of the
story.

My only brother, let me not perish.
On the day of Tammuz, play for me on the flute of lapis lazuli,
together with the lyre[1187] of pearl play for me.
Together let the professional dirge singers, male and female, play
for me,
That the dead may arise and inhale the incense of offerings.

The lines impress one as snatches from a dirge, sung or recited in
memory of the dead, and introduced here as an appropriate illustration
of the conclusion to be drawn from the tale. At all events, the
consolation that the mourner receives lies in this thought,--the dead
can hear the lamentation. The survivors are called upon not to forget
the dead. When the festival of Tammuz comes, let them combine with the
weeping for the god, a dirge in memory of the dead. Let them pray to
Ishtar and Tammuz. If remembered by the living, the dead will at least
enjoy the offerings made to them, regain, as it were, a temporary sense
of life; but more cannot with certainty be hoped for.

The outlook for the dead, it will be seen, is not hopeful. Their
condition is at best a tolerable one. What we may glean from other
sources but confirms the general impression, conveyed by the opening and
closing lines of the Ishtar story, or makes the picture a still gloomier
one. The day of death is a day of sorrow, 'the day without mercy.' The
word for corpse conveys the idea that things have 'come to an end.'
Whenever death is referred to in the literature, it is described as an
unmitigated evil. A dirge introduced into an impressive hymn to
Nergal[1188] laments the fate of him who

... has descended to the breast of the earth,
Satiated,[1189] [he has gone] to the land of the dead.
Full of lament on the day that he encountered sorrow,
In the month which does not bring to completion the year,[1190]
On the road of destruction for mankind,
To the wailing-place (?),
The hero [has gone], to the distant invisible land.

We must not be misled by an epithet bestowed upon several gods, Marduk,
Ninib, and Gula, of 'the restorer of the dead to life,' into the belief
that the dead could be brought back from Aralu. These epithets appear
chiefly in incantations and hymns addressed to the gods for some
specific purpose, such as deliverance of a sufferer from disease. The
gods are appealed to against the demons, whose grasp means death. Ninib
and Gula are viewed as gods of healing.[1191] To be cured through their
aid was to be snatched from the jaws of death. Moreover, Ninib and
Marduk, as solar deities, symbolize the sun of spring, which brings
about the revivification of nature. The return of vegetation suggests
the thought that Ninib and Marduk have filled with new life what
appeared to be dead. The trees that seemed entirely dead blossom forth;
the bare earth is covered with verdure. Similarly, the suffering
individual stricken with disease could be awakened to new life. It is
this 'restoration' which lies in the power of the gods, but once a man
has been carried off to Aralu, no god can bring him back to this earth.

An apparent exception to the rule, according to which all mankind
eventually comes to Aralu, is formed by Parnapishtim and his wife, who
dwell in a place vaguely described as 'distant,' situated at the
'confluence of the streams.' The place, as was pointed out in a previous
chapter,[1192] lies in the vicinity of the Persian Gulf, and, since it
can only be reached by water, the natural conclusion is that it is an
island. The temptation is strong to compare the dwelling of Parnapishtim
with the belief found among the Greeks and other nations, of 'an island
of the blessed.' This has been done by Jeremias[1193] and others.
However, we must bear in mind that the point in Parnapishtim's narrative
is that he and his wife do _not die_. They are removed to the distant
place by the gods and continue to live there. Again, we do not learn of
any other person who inhabits this island. If to these considerations we
add, that the name Parnapishtim signifies 'offspring of life,' that his
wife's name is not mentioned, that we are not told what becomes of his
family and servants, who are also saved from the deluge, it is evident
that the incident of Parnapishtim's escape is an allegory, introduced
into the story as a dramatic means of teaching the doctrine which we
have seen dominates the tale,--that man, ordinarily, cannot secure
immortal life.

If there is any connection between the island where Parnapishtim dwells
and the Greek conception of 'an island of the blessed,' it is a trace of
foreign influence in Babylonian mythology. There is nothing to show that
among the Babylonians, either among the populace or in the schools, a
belief arose in a 'paradise' whither privileged persons were transported
after death, nor is any distinction made by them between the good and
the bad, so far as the future habitation is concerned. All mankind,
kings and subjects, virtuous and wicked, go to Aralu. Those who have
obtained the good will of the gods receive their reward in this world,
by a life of happiness and of good health. The gods can ward off
disease, or, rather, since disease (as all ills and misfortunes) is a
punishment sent by some god or demon, forgiveness can be secured, the
proof of which will consist in the restoration of the sick to health,
but the moment that death ensues the control of the gods ends. To the
Babylonians, the words of the Psalmist,[1194] "who praises thee, O God,
in Sheol?" came home with terrible force. They expressed, admirably, the
Babylonian view of the limitations of divine power. The dead do not
praise the gods, simply because it would be useless. The concern of the
gods is with the living.

We are fortunate in possessing a pictorial representation of the nether
world that confirms the view to be derived from a study of the religious
literature. A number of years ago, Clermont-Ganneau directed attention
to a remarkable bronze tablet which was purchased at Hamath in northern
Syria.[1195] The art was clearly Babylonian, and there was no reason to
question the genuineness of the production. Quite recently a duplicate
has been found at Zurghul, in Babylonia,[1196] so that all suspicions
are removed. The bronze tablet contains on the one side, the figure of a
monster with a lion-like face and body, but provided with huge wings.
Standing erect, his head rises above the tablet, his fore legs rest on
the edge, and the demon is thus represented in the attitude of looking
over to the other side of the tablet. At the side of the monster, are
two heads of hideous appearance.

The illustrations on the reverse are devoted to a portrayal of a funeral
ceremony, and of the general aspects of the nether world. There are five
distinct divisions,[1197] marked off from one another by four heavy
lines drawn across the tablet. In the first division appear the symbols
of the chief gods of the Assyrian pantheon, Marduk, Nabu, Sin, Ishtar,
Shamash, Ramman, etc.[1198] These gods, as inhabiting the heaven, are
placed at the head of the tablet. Next come seven evil spirits figured
as various animals,[1199] who, as inferior to the gods, and perhaps also
as messengers of the latter, are assigned a place midway between heaven
and earth. In the third section, there is pictured the funeral ceremony
proper. A dead body lies on a couch. Two rather strange figures, but
apparently priests, have taken up a position, one at each end of the
funeral bier, performing some rite of purification. One of the priests
has a robe of fish scales and is bearded; the other is smooth-faced and
clothed in a long garment. Censers are placed near the priests. The
latter appear at the same time to be protecting the body against two
demons whose threatening gestures suggest that they are endeavoring to
secure possession of the dead.[1200] These demons may be the special
messengers of the gods of the nether world, who have brought about the
death of their victim. Below this scene, we come to a view of the nether
world. The division is much larger than any of the others. Two hideous
figures dominate the scene, both of fantastic shape, and evidently so
portrayed as to suggest the horror of the nether world. One of these
figures[1201] stands erect in a menacing attitude; the other is resting
in a kneeling position on a horse.[1202] The second figure is a
representation of the chief goddess of the nether world--Allatu. The
demon at her side would then be the special messenger of this goddess,
Namtar. The goddess has her two arms extended, in the act of strangling
a serpent. The act symbolizes her strength. Her face is that of a
lioness, and she is suckling two young lions at her breasts. If it be
recalled that Nergal, the chief god of the lower world, is also pictured
as a lion,[1203] it seems but natural to conclude that the monster
covering the one side of the tablet is none other than the consort of
Allatu, the heads on either side of him representing his attendants. At
the left side of Allatu are a series of objects,--a jar, bowl, an
arrowhead (?), a trident, which, as being buried with the dead, are
symbols of the grave. The goddess and the demon at her side direct their
gaze towards these objects.

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