Part I
Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges once said – “There are only four stories to tell: a love story between two people, a love story between three people, the struggle for power, and the voyage. All of us writers rewrite these same stories infinitum.”
If that is so, in which one of the four narratives would the story of this person be told has he been a fictitious character? Just in a mere voyage? Nuh-uh… At the very first encounter, this man’s story would become something strange, something fabulous for listeners and even a narrator. Yet, again, the chronicles of world heroes would be incomplete without the story of this man.
When this strange person emerged that night, he resemble a gawky genie who returned from a two hundred years eerie journey, or been drawn out of a river by some clever spell, or been descending from decades of seclusion of a mountain. It was dead of night. Life outstretched in full inclination everywhere. The night resonated like abstract music in the entire scenery. Though it was late after midnight, the night’s splendor was heavy over the whole panorama. I sat down turning my back on the small town of Aykel perfectly still as if I were inanimate and gazing on this stranger in dismay. I sat on a huge stone to the right side of the sidewalk and slowly rotated my rosary.
While this stranger advances towards me, I hurriedly pocketed my rosary and carefully watched his steps. However, at about five steps away, he rather sat on one of the stacked stones instead of showing a sign of hostility. For a moment he simply kept quiet as if I wasn’t there. I noticed him struggling to tighten the worn-out soldier’s boot on his right foot, which had separated from its sole. He twisted the strap beneath the sole for a hasty repair.
In front of us stretched a main pedestrian street that extended from Axum to Aykel, Khartoum, Cairo, Damascus, Babylon, and beyond. The heavy silence of this man made the night even scarier. The night was moonless and the sky was devoid of clouds. Despite the darkness, with the help of the starlight glow I could see delicately down to the river and the valley. On the left side from afar, St. Michael church seen in a luminescence view. On the right near side, there was a solitary Adbar tree (spirit confiscated tree) – Emete (meaning madam in Amharic and Qemant language) Aykel. Emete Aykel is believed to have grown on the gravesite of Noah’s wife. Qemant People have worshipped it for thousands of years.
Suddenly, the man turned his head back and looked at the nearby tree behind us, then asked the opening question…
“If you knew it my Lord, what is this tree?” As he spoke to me, I have noticed that he had a deep and hoarse voice.
“Eh… it seems like a wild fig.” I responded in an unprepared voice.
“But I think it is a sycamore fig.”
“That makes no difference.” Was my response. And yet of course, what difference does it really make?
The man disdained my answer and kept forth investigating the tree. As I was just beginning to convince myself that the conversation was over, he once again enquired me.
“Do you think it bear fruits?”
“No…” I replied after contemplating for a while.
“Even if it is sycamore, the season isn’t for sycamore’s blossoming.”
Now, I became convinced that he is in a deep state of craving for food, as if he had rolled out of a grave after three days. Perhaps the reason why he asked me about the fruiting of this sycamore tree was to assuage his hunger a little.
Then why wasn’t I motivated to do something for help?
As I slipped to drop the pebble, I saw him casually playing, twisting his fingers around the muzzle of his rifle. Although I suspected this man was a soldier from his outfit, I was not aware of his rifle. I felt calm afterwards. Why? Maybe because I stood impotent with my pebble in contrast with his rifle. Before he noticed it, carefully, I slid the pebble and landed it on the ground.
“I was following a man who carried a single harnessing York Starting from the dried stream. I hurried to reach up to him. But the more I approached him, he simply strode further and suddenly vanished. Did you see him passing by, sir?”
Though I believe it wouldn’t make any difference – I replied,
“This could really going to be amazing. I think I saw the man you watched while going towards the direction you came. As you said, he was carrying a Jingla (bull harnessing triangular York)…”
“I left the main road just to follow him.”
“What was he wearing anyway? Did you notice that?’’
“I think he wore a Gabi (traditional blanket)… He never gave me a chance to approach closer. How can I evaluate his appearance any better, sir? When I called him, he marched even swiftly and disappeared in an instant. “
“What makes it strange is that when I saw him, part of his body was naked… Anyway, did he cast a shadow? In any case, have you noticed that?’’
“I told you sir, he didn’t give me the chance to get closer to him. But why shadow sir? Why does it matter my lord…”
“This person might be Gargi. It is told that Gargi came out of Anzaimerku cave. When he saw guests arriving, he tried to disclose himself in some strange manner.”
“Who is he sir, who is Ga…Gi?”
“Ah… it’s a long story. The city has a reputation for a certain foretelling myth that has been feared and hoped for more than a century. They say that Gargi, who entered through the Antra Cave hundred years ago, will travel thirty five kilometers inland for hundred years and come out through the Anzheimerku Cave. It has been rumoured that he has already came out of Anzheimerku cave. Or maybe this person would be Ahasver… but if he is Ahasver, he couldn’t cast a shadow just because he was cursed. However, he could be the one who ought to the carry Jingla.”
“Who do you say sir… ah…Ross? Who is he, my lord?”
“Why do you call me my lord? I think it is not a soldier’s manner.”
“Pardon me sir, but I rather believe it is a soldier’s mandate to respect everybody, child or elder.”
“Do you read the Bible anyway?”
“No, no, no sir,”
“Do you know the story of the Jew who slapped Jesus on the night he was handed over to the priests for inquisition?”
“Sir, I have been an enlisted man serving under the orders of my masters. How could I know?’’
“Good. Then I will tell you. As it is read in the Gospel of John, chapter 18, 20-22, on the Thursday night when Jesus was betrayed, and being held in probation by the higher priests about the nature his religious teachings. Jesus answered, ‘Why do you ask me again what I taught in public, in the synagogue, as if it was done in secret?’ Immediately, one of the servants of the high priest who was nearer slapped him and declared, ‘How do you dare talk to the high priest like that?’ Though the Bible never mentioned anything about the name or destiny of this Jewish slave, in other Gnostic Jewish narratives there is a story that this Jew was cursed to be wander through out the surface of the earth alive until Jesus comes back for apocalypse.
This man’s name believed to be Ahasver. Ahasver said to appear in discreet forms in many different places. May be he is wandering here in Africa. Because he is cursed, he strode everywhere ‘shadowless’. He runs away every time to avoid being identified. He travelled always with a burden. It may or may not be true. Maybe that person whom we saw caring Jingla would be ‘Joshua’ himself. Who knows? We live in a world where truth and treacherous intermingled. However, whoever that person might be, it won’t make any difference. The basic color of life never changed, no matter how much you multiply it, no matter how much you enchant it; it is the same and never changed for perpetuity. Rather, it the night which is real, which could make a real difference.”
“Pardon me sir, but how could one be shadowless and why shadow matters?”
“Ah… It is yet another Biblical Narrative. In the book of Genesis after Cain killed his brother Abel, he was forced to go out from the land of God. Then the Lord put a mark on Cain, so that no one who encounters him on the road would kill him. Nobody knows what mark the lord put on him. But I believe it was shadow that God marked on Cain to protect him. Out of that mercy we all beings and things wore a tapestry of shadow. For me it manifested his clemency.”
He seemed apathetic for my response. As I spoke to him, he kept yawning. He repeatedly gaped and shows a sign of indifference for our chitchat. The man sat down nonchalantly. Then he suddenly became interested and asked me a question that I wasn’t able to answer – as if my response could made a difference.
“My lord, listen carefully, what is been said about the war?”
“About the war? … I don’t know.” I said, worriedly. After some moment of silence and hesitation I added.
“I myself am on the front of another war. I am exploring some subtle transition with my whole being, so I didn’t follow up the rumors and news of the war much. I think the important issue is not the purpose of the war, but the fact that war seemed our inevitable existential facet. In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus said ‘Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth – I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.’ Anyway, please allow me ask you a single question – I can see that you wore soldier uniforms with rifle on your hand, so where are you venturing with full package readiness alone?”
He suddenly became alert and answered with deep sense of passion.
BY YACOB BERHANOU
THE ETHIOPIAN HERALD WEDNESDAY 20 MARCH 2024
