?The man is not the hero of the flood story, but the woman... who is she
An empty cup tells me: As long as the rest of your reputation is preserved and your head on your shoulders preserved after the story of creation, what prevents you from writing the story of the flood? I put aside the empty bottle of local arak, and took out the triangle bottle of arak. I open it with shamanic reverence, and with great courtesy I pronounce a curse-square curse with true theological expression; Academic edifice.
Have religion and science ever cooperated together, as a body to which all members fall apart, to market a misunderstanding, as happened in the flood story? I, as a man, are not responsible for devising this question! Rather, it is the damned first sip of the triangular arak, and a slight male numbness in the extremities of the senses.
And more correctly, has a story ever been written, copied and distorted among the peoples of the earth, like the story of the flood? It is the second damned sip and a hidden bed on the edge of the mind.
With the third sip, the Syrian femininity of Dalila emerges in my soul. Who, like me, has listened for a long time to the thieves of knowledge, and learned the secrets of their strength hidden in their nonsense, which is called "study treatises" in "academic edifices." Here is the first lie in the story of the flood, and from it follows the rest of the falsification.
The man is not the hero of the flood story
The man is not the hero of the flood story, but the woman! The flood was the fiercest natural challenge in the face of the most dangerous innovations of the matriarchal age represented in the village and agriculture, nothing more, nothing less. It is the reality of the destructive phenomenon in the world of the first village agriculture, and therefore the challenge was directed first to the innovations of the dimensions of the village, its production and its social meaning, and the man was in his best condition only accompanying the background of this challenge.
All that remains of the details of the flood story, and outside the lie of man’s heroism in the confrontation between a natural phenomenon and a historical and social phenomenon, from a male deity who is angry because of human behavior to another male deity who loves man or is the same deity (in accounts of monotheism) who is angry and loving, but he evasively tells a man What is “better” than the secret to an ugly death, the wholesale biography of human beings, to the size of the ark and the life it contains that is about to annihilate.
All these details that men of clergy and science have exhausted in studying them, scrutinizing them and between them, and when I am personally in the case of the academic hedgehog, I consider them to be the creativity of the strict patriarchal system at the heart of the facts of the theater, but as long as they are evidence of their blatant femininity in myself, they are nothing more than peelings for a heavy joke Trying to be a lighthearted play.
And as long as it's a woman then! Let's examine its role in the later versions of the Flood. Frankly, I do not know what the perfect works of God want to say about the wife of the hero of the flood between the version of the Qur’an that accused her of being unfaithful to her husband, and the commentators explain that it is not physical betrayal, but rather a betrayal because she accused him of madness, and the version of the Torah that considered that from her children appeared 3 races of different races, And of course from one father!
I am ashamed of what goes on in my head, which is genuine shyness compared to a false shyness who has devised a theory that has lived for centuries in the "academic edifices" about the races of Ham, Shem, and Japheth. Rather, the insolence of this theory reached that it replaced Japheth with a loose scandal called "Indo-European races", preserving Ham and Sam.
That flavor of former shamelessness is not found in the earlier cuneiform versions of the flood story about the wife of the false hero. She appears as a minor character except for the only light expressed when she pressures her stubborn husband at the insistence of Gilgamesh, who wants immortality, not to return to his city empty-handed.
So Gilgamesh got the herb of immortality, and the fools lost it in a moment of craving for cleanliness when he took a bath! Was the desire of the wife of the hero of the flood to grant humanity immortality the reason for her branding as a traitor in the Qur’an as, presumably, violating the gods’ sacred secret of immortality? Or was the reason behind the impolite insinuation to the diversity of the races of mankind from her children that she is the wife of the virtuous man who is available in such a scarcity that our punishment with the flood necessitated it? My knowledge almost kills me!
Someone says: Why do you, brother, practice the same academic Qunfudhah that you insulted above? Here is the true story as I heard it with my ears from the branches of a jurist fig tree in Lattakia, and it was told to her by her aunt, a perennial olive tree in Jerusalem, while she was well versed in theology. I convey what I heard without whim, and therefore I must first declare that the story does not reflect the opinion of the author of the article if this statement is useful in a matter that is in the interest of my survival, and that secondly I examined the soil of the tree, its branches and its bark, and I did not find dementia in it or mental weakness.
Bayado's story
Before the invention of writing, before the existence of civilization and the worship of gods, and after the settlements of hunters turned into farmers and herders of cattle for a few centuries; precisely, after the matriarchal totem succeeded in controlling the penis of the hunter man, in a village of unknown location on the banks of the Tigris River, and its inhabitants barely touched faces and dimensions. The forces of nature, a girl named "Bidao" was born from a peasant father and a mother responsible for the tasks of the village shepherds in front of its council of elders. Although it was a marriage disproportionate in class, it did not mean anything to the people of that time, because they considered that they existed to mate specifically, and not just to know each other.
Their eggs were remarkably beautiful. Her face reminds of everything you love in life, such as a spring of clear water, the shadow of a passing cloud, a grilled delicious fish, or a little goat chasing its mother to suckle. In short, her face resembled that of a proud mother in the language of the time.
The village boys competed for eggs, and one of them won her heart and they got married. After the birth of the second child, the village experienced the first phenomenon of river flooding, accompanied by unusual rains. Crops are damaged, some animals die, and the most important event is the drowning of a white pair. The village regained its life, and the competition between the village youth resumed over which egg to choose. After the birth of the second child, the village was exposed to the same phenomenon, but it was more severe in its results, and the most important thing was the drowning of a white husband as well.
The village elders’ council approved the necessity of making large pontoons for each family, because this phenomenon may recur, so pontoons and boats are placed in front of the doors of houses, and they are carefully maintained. To be honest, the severity of the losses did not disturb some of the hearts leaping out of love for Baydao, which was getting more and more beautiful, so some of them competed for her heart, and one of them won it. After the birth of the second child, the same flood and heavy rain occurred, and although the village’s crops were damaged, its livestock and residents remained safe as a result of boats and rafts, with the exception of Baydaou’s husband, who drowned.
The third flood became a point of opinion among the villagers. Two opinions emerged. The first says: White husbands die by drowning, and behind this opinion were most of the men of the village who were shocked by the death of their husbands. As for the second opinion, he said: The flood occurs after two periods of pregnancy and childbirth, and this was the opinion of most of the village women who tried to find some measure of reality.
Someone may say: Brother, simply white couples die in the flood after the birth of the second child. We calculated that the inhabitants of that time were at a level of clarity and insight, not mixing feelings with thinking, as our contemporary man skillfully does, in his most simple or complex daily issues.
The council of the village elders listened to the two opinions, and asked for the opinion of the sad Baydaw, who said that she truly loved all her husbands. The eldest of the old women spoke, and said that the afflicted from the losses of the village is great and varied, and it is difficult for him to consider white husbands by virtue of the dead, because they marry her! She beckoned her old husband to speak, and she sang an old song of men hunters giving their lives to feed their families, and of a wise woman who taught them how to cultivate the land, and that they were her descendants, happy and unhappy then and now.
A few days later, news spread in the village that one of its men had advanced to Baydao, which was confused, and did not know what to decide. The man did not leave a method that he did not use in front of her, from his promises to preserve himself at the time of the flood, and his boasting of the moments in which he almost drowned in previous floods, but he survived until... until Baida's heart softened, and she agreed, so he was the fourth husband.
The village was full of preparations after the birth of the second child, to the extent that the girls and boys of Baidaw excelled in developing the capabilities of the rafts in terms of size and carrying capacity, inventing leather bags and long strong ropes that connect the village boats. Indeed, one of them made a strong stake in the ground to which he tied the village boats with long ropes And, most importantly, the decision of Baydaou’s children and residents to preserve her husband’s life as best they could.
The river flooded and was accompanied by heavy rain, and the village's preparations were amazing, and the damage was limited to crops only. As for Baydaou's husband, he did not drown as a result of the intense care he took in the raft. His mother-in-law pledged to drown with him, but her husband died of suffocation on one of the walnuts that he swallowed without biting it, and he is known for his intense craving for this fruit.
Do white couples die by drowning? Nobody had an answer. While those with the second opinion began to measure the benefits and harms of the flood. What matters to us is that no one dares to marry Baydaou, who is still young and fertile. Rather, the features of sadness increased her seduction.
Quiet months passed until a stranger arrived in the village, and sat in the village square asking for the meeting of the old men. The meeting took place, and the stranger began to speak that from a village far in the north, the story of Baydao had arrived in his village, and that since his childhood he was surrounded by wonders, and the old men of the village and his mother attested to that, and they testified that he possesses various skills, and is very observant, etc.
The stranger continued talking for a long time, and the boredom of the people of Baydao village reached its extreme limits. The oldest of the old men interrupted him, asking what he wanted. He looked at Baidaw, and said he wanted her to marry him, promising to be a loving father and husband, etc. The old woman pointed to their eggs. The stranger was silent, waiting for what she would say. It did not seem, because of the sadness on her face, that she was going to say what would please him.
The stranger did not wait for Baydaou's answer, so he grabbed a few pebbles from the ground and began throwing them in the air between hand and hand. Then he jumped on one foot, continuing with the same movement, and pretended to fall on the ground, and the pebbles fell on his head except for one, so he opened his hand and it fell into it.
The stranger was a real clown. Laughter erupted among the residents of the village, and little by little he was approaching Baydao until he reached in front of her, so he took out a white flower from his sleeve, and closed his hands on it. He opened his hands and the flower was gone. So he reached out to Baydao's curly hair, pulled the flower from it, and presented it to her, and his eyes would have watered. Baidao's beaming smile turned tired and said, "Okay."
The women of the village started counting their menstrual periods, but they simply didn't get pregnant. Months passed, and the village elders asked her, and she replied that no husband had ever had the ability to make her sleep and wake up laughing like this man. Frankly, the problem was not only with the manhood of the stranger, but rather he was not useful in any matter, so all the talents he displayed to the villagers appeared meaningless. Indeed, the further the stranger is from the fact that he is a gifted buffoon, the more absurd he appears to disturbing limits; His tedious interventions at village meetings and his interference with the business of its inhabitants often led to quarrels and quarrels, and only white boys bore his empty advice.
In Al-Mukhtasar, Al-Gharib's talent was devoted to the opening and closing of village meetings, in addition to the full-moon evenings, and he gained great popularity.
In times of drought, whispers were heard wishing to conceive their eggs! The old women suppressed them severely, for life and nature in their conditions are times and seasons, and abnormal wishes that dream of an incomprehensible contrast in reality are nothing but vice itself. This is how they understood life! And let us not consider that some of our contemporary art and literature fall into this description of an issue that deserves to disturb our contemporary mood, as the good that looms in the bright future of humanity justifies any wish.
Years later, the issue of the rafts would have become neglected had it not been for the efforts of the person responsible for it and her assistants from the maintenance workers. Indeed, the day came when the flood of the river seemed to rise to alarming limits, and this was accompanied by frightening black clouds.
Everyone ran to the boats and rafts, and white boys surrounded their stepfather. The storm passed peacefully, and dawn appeared, and the inhabitants and their livestock on the rafts called for news. The stranger was standing among his wife's children looking for a white boat, and as soon as he saw her, he started making jumping and lightness movements, so he slipped, and his neck fell on the sharp edge of the raft, and the raft overturned with his wife's children while they were trying to save him. Yes, the stranger died.
The people of the village stood by his body, and one of the elderly said in an audible voice: This man was funny and we will remember him for a long time. And he looked at Baydaou and her children and said reluctantly: You are his children despite everything, and you inherit life with its bitterness and sweetness. The funeral ended, and the series of women's proposals began to build a trench or a high wall around the village, or channels in specific places to drain the surplus beyond the hills that were barely affected by the flood.
Do white couples die? This opinion ended, as did Jamal Baydaw, who became withered. Does the flood come after pregnancy and childbirth? Frankly, this opinion continued to try its fortunes secretly with the daughters and sons of Beida or her grandchildren, and the truth did not settle on her measurement. And the common saying that every child comes to life brings goodness and food with him is nothing but a distorted continuation of this matriarchal school that believed in the birth of women and their mysterious powers in granting the happiness of immortality that had become forgotten.
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