Sons of Gilgamesh

I am professor Almeck Geboddi, and I am recording this tape to substantiate our findings on this expedition to seek the origins of the ancient epic poem about Gilgamesh King of Uruk of Mesopotamia. Our team included three world renown researchers in the field of ancient Sumerian texts; first was Damon Broswick, Ranata Becskel, and Anton Pantazis. They were chosen as an international team of experts in field of research. Our findings are quite shocking as out discoveries seem to contradict former conclusions from the past about these texts.

(Pauses tape)

Professor Almack Geboddi here again, pardon the interruption. I received a call from Professor Damon Broswick concerning our rather unexpected findings. I am preparing a statement for the press conference.

In my tenure at Oxford University as the chair of the Archeology Department, I have found the there are themes to the origins of mythology, one being the quest for immortality. Even in more recent folklore with Skinwalkers and lycanthropes where people believe in the exitances of mythological beings, there is a prevalence in believing they are also immortal. While logically we know that all living beings will eventually die, would we change our beliefs if we found someone who has survived a century? How about a millennium?

(Rattling of paper is heard)

From my notes, I will recite as best I can from memory what took place that day along the Euphrates River where I was told were the lost tablets of the story of Gilgamesh and his family. Up until now, there seemed to be some missing tablets that spoke of the family and his wife Ninsun. While some of the tablets mention her, but there is no mention of his children. Some information came to light that there might be some lost tablets around Nineveh that might contain a lineage.

I have long suspected that Gilgamesh who was two thirds god and one third mortal would have to suffer the pain of death despite his divine connections. His wife was a goddess, but what would his children be? This was the reason the Academy of Scientific Research was willing to fund out expedition. There was an Akuna to this story of the prototype hero of mythologies that would follow.

When we arrived in Tehran, the guards did a thorough job of checking us and all our equipment. We spent most of the day at the airport. If we found what we were hoping to find, it would all be worth it.

From here I will narrate our story as best I can from many notes I took while we were at the site:

Damon was the first to find him when we staked out our dig. This ancient man had wrinkles etched into his dark sun-dried skin. His eyes were buried so deep into his face, it was impossible to determine the color of his irises.

“What is your name?” Damon asked him in the ancient Aramaic language.

“Ishar.” The man’s voice was weak and wavered when he spoke.

“Where are you from?” Damon continued to ask questions.

“Right here.” He pointed to the ground he was sitting on with a claw-like gnarled finger. When he smiled, we saw he was toothless.

“Right here?” Damon smiled. He came to his feet and walked over to where we were standing. He looked a me with a puzzled expression on his chiseled face complete with a solidly square jaw. “Dr. Geboddi, he says he is from right here.”

“Not possible.” I chuckled, “This has been barren desert since the fall of the Sumerian Empire over ten thousand years ago. You will see for yourself once we start to excavate this site.”

I glanced over at the ancient man and shook my head. He just smiled back at me as if I were the fool.

“Do you want me to question him some more?” Damon asked jerked his thumb in the old man’s direction.

“He’s probable senile or worse.” I shook my head. “We have quite a dig as it is. The city of Ur was once located here.”

“We must be careful, doctor.” Ranata removed her bandana and wiped her forehead dripping with sweat. “If we are not, we might ruin a remnant that is thousands of years old.”

“Which is why most of the excavation will be done by hand.” I shrugged. It was just nine in the morning local time and already the sun was beating down unmercifully. Dr. Anton Pantazis unrolled the map of the ancient city of Nineveh.

“What is it you seek?” The ancient man stood upon his aged shaky legs; he spoke in Armenian.

“The missing tablets of the legend of Gilgamesh.” Damon answered him in his language.

“Oh.” He threw his head back in comprehension. “Not here.”

Damon shot the old man a conspicuous look.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He says we are looking in the wrong place.” Damon shook his head jostling his jet-black curls.

“Are we?” I asked.

“All the data points to this site.” Damon answered. “How would he know?”

“I’d say he has lived here all his life.” Anton shrugged, “And from the looks of it, that has been a very long time.”

The ancient man seemed to have a notion of what we were searching for. The Assyrians followed the Samarians, but there seemed to be some discrepancies about how the Legend of Gilgamesh was put together. During the previous century and the one before that, scholars proved that what was an epic poem, turned out to be an episodical narration like those viewed on modern media. The Samarians and Assyrians enjoyed their stories as much as we do. Anton had come from Lebanon where the great cedars grow. According to one of the stories, Gilgames and his close friend Enkidu went there and chopped down the entire forest which angered the gods. The story demonstrates their vanity and eagerness for adventure.

Many have said that about me as well. When I put together this expedition, I was accused of letting my professional ego get in the way of my better judgment at times. I did not listen then as I should have. Things would have turned out much differently. I let my eagerness get the best of me as I let it drive me to see my name put on the wall of the Academy of Science with all the others. All mortals strive for immortality whether to seek everlasting life or a proud legacy of accomplishment, we are driven beyond to become immortal.

(pause tape)

I can see now how this drive for immortality can weaken a man or woman. I do not wish to relive what would befall our exposition, but now that I have had time to reflect on it, I can see our fatal flaw that is too late to make amends. I shall go on …

“I don’t like the feeling I have in my gut.” Damon told me after we finished dinner on our second evening. All was going according to plan, so I asked Damon what he felt was amiss.

“What I see is that we are stirring up a lot of dead and buried ghosts.” He put a toothpick at the corner of his mouth.

“Elaborate.” I encouraged him.

“I have always had a sensitivity for the paranormal.” His eyes looked over my shoulder to the flaming sunset to the west.

“Do you believe in such things?” I asked smacking my lips.

“I was pragmatic in my approach, but then I’ve seen things that lack explanation.”

“Such as?” I implored him.

“An exposition three years ago in Mexico City on the sight of the great Aztec Temple.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Chanting. Voices echoed off the ruins. One of the men from the area heard the chanting and told me the spirits were angry. The next day he fell to his death off a scaffolding we had assembled.”

“Accidents happen.” I shrugged.

:” Sure. I’ve been on other expositions where we had accidents, but this was a foretelling.” Damon shook his head, “I got the same feeling talking to the old man. There is something quite unusual about him. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I will keep an eye on him.” I sipped my water, “He does not appear that dangerous.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” He sighed, “I have heard a lot of folks say that we have no busy digging up ancient graves. Too many ghosts, they say.”

But we weren’t disturbing any spirits. We were looking for cuneiform tablets that would tell the rest of the story of Gilgamesh.

A week later one of the crew found a crypt as he dug. This was unexpected by all means. Anton opened the sealed door. The smell of death came out of the crypt like a noxious cloud. Donning a mask for his own protection, Anton moved into the darkness with a headlamp. Century old shadows ran away the light penetrated the absolute darkness.

“Got me a couple of stiffs.” Anton reported.

“We shall no disturb the dead.” Ranata waved his hand in front of her face to keep the stale odor of death from affecting her.

He sat by our evening fire and peered into the flames. He wore a smile that seemed to crease his wrinkled face. We were tired. For ten days straight in the suffocating sun, we had moved the ancient earth shovelful by shovelful. Exhausting backbreaking labor. We needed to take a breath and marvel at our hard progress. I was sure our relics were just a few shovelfuls away

“My father was afraid of death.” Ishar, the ancient man told Damon. “Watched his best friend Enkidu die as a punishment for my father’s arrogance.”

“You make it sound like you are Gilgamesh’s son.” Damon gives Ishar a cold stare.

“I am.” He affirmed without looking at Damon.

“Impossible.” Damon shook his head in complete disbelief.

“Do not doubt what your heart knows is true.” Ishar tossed a pebble into the fire.

“You’d have to be over six millennium old.” Damon exhaled as if he had purposely been holding his breath up until then. Ishar said nothing, he just smiled.

(Pause)

This part of the story I difficult for me to recount, not because my memory is flawed, rather these are images that now haunt my nightmares. Therapy has not been as effective as I had hoped. Slowly those terrible events I witnessed have abated somewhat, but there are times I dread closing my eyes to sleep for fear that the visions will haunt my dreams.

Ishar led us to a passage through an underground tunnel that led to a large room. In the middle of this expansive room decorated with colorful tiles and occupied by bronze statues of ancient heroes of the Babylonians in poses suggesting their great strength and resolve. But the item that immediately drew my attention was this tableau carved from a slab of limestone with a giant stone suspended about twenty feet from the tableau by thick ropes. The tableau was surrounded by a vat-like construction.

“What on earth is this monstrosity?” I asked Damon.

“I have no idea.” He shook his head.

“It’s almost like an ancient altar.” Reena shrugged on shoulder.

“Altar?”

“I dread to say, but I have seen photographs of these types of structures that were once used for human sacrifices.” She put her finger to the corner of hier mouth as if in deep contemplation. A chill ran up my spine at the mention of human sacrifices. In closer examination, I felt as if she was correct in her assessment.

Emilo Sanchez was one of the crew who was from Paraguay. Quiet and reserve, he took a swig from his canteen since the room was large and filled with the dust of many centuries. No one noticed right away when Emilo passed out after putting his canteen back in place.

Reena was the first to notice, “Emilo is not conscious.”

I turned my head to see him laying on a stone bench.

Before I could react, the statues began to move armed with spears and swords they held in their war-like poses. We were immediately surrounded by these ancient warriors. Moving quickly two of the warriors grabbed Emilo and carried him to the stone tableau. Without hesitation they tied his hands and feet with the thick rope. It was then he began to wake.

“Welcome to the Temple of Athra-Hasis.” The ancient man had made a very dramatic transformation while his guards made of bronze hold us hostage with their spears and swords. Emilo struggled against the ropes holding him in bondage. As he tugs trying to get free, he groans pulling against his restraints while above him the massive rock sways left to right. I did not wish to see what was about to happen.

“I am Ishar, the son of Gilgamesh. He had nearly a hundred sons in his time, but most of my blood brothers are no longer with us. There are a few with me now, but our survival is limited. My mother was a goddess, and my father was two thirds a god, so that makes me immortal. I have been here in this ancient place for over eight thousand years, but I have a hunger that needs to be attended to.” He put his hand to his beard, but it was no longer gray as it had been when we first encountered him. He raised his scepter as the rock hovering over Emilo began a rapid descent. Poor Emilo did not have time to scream as he was crushed beneath the huge boulder. His blood ran like a red river down the sides of the tableau filling the moat that circled the tableau. My stomach turned as did most of the others in my company.

Ishar walked over to the tableau and dipped his chalice into the moat filling his vessel with Emilo’s still warm blood. Without hesitation, Ishar threw his head back and consumed the contents of his chalice. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his frock.

“Immortality is once again mine.” Ishar smiled, his teeth still red with the blood. “My father saw his good friend Enkidu die. He spent several days with his friend’s remains mourning. According to the legend, his tears filled the Euphrates River during the dry season. You may mourn the death of your deceased, but keep in mind, his blood was not wasted.”

As I watched Emilo’s blood run down the stone walls into the gutter, the whole sordid experience reminded me of the ancient execution of stoning a condemned victim. The weight of the stones would eventually crush the condemned to death in a low painful demise. As awful as Emilo’s execution was, he did not suffer. Hardly a consolation, however.

“You murderer!” Ranata cried out pointing her finger at Ishar.

“I am not a murdered as you claim.” He waved her off with his hand, “I merely took what I needed at the expense of his life. He was mortal, whereas I am not.”

One of the bronze warriors put his spear under her chin and forced her head back with a steady thrust.

“You will not accuse me of a crime that I am not guilty of.” He laughed.

The bronze warriors escorted all of us from the Temple of Athra-Hasis. The temple was named for the gods of the underworld and indeed it did sees as though we all walked into Hell. Once we had emerged into the unrelenting sunlight from the darkness of the temple the whole experience seemed surreal to me. Even now as I speak into this device, I feel shaken and disturbed by his experience.

I plan to go to Paraguay to speak to Emilo’s people and explain what happened. I’m sure this will be one of the most difficult things I have ever done, but I feel I owe it to him.

I am not sure what final paper will say on the subject. I know that immortality is still debated on the academic level without coming to a final resolution. Gilgamesh was one of the very first mythological heroes. Other mythologies would invent heroes like him including our present-day heroes like Superman and Batman. The hero we saw was, however, was anything but as he continues to live in the shadows of the underworld. And though he claims most of his brothers are no longer in this world, if he does have some of them, I pity anyone who comes in contact with one of them.