A praise-poem to Shulgi: the defiant layer
L M Leteane | Friday September 2, 2016 14:55
We noted that while conventional historians view Shulgi’s claims to have made love to Inanna as ‘mere, fanciful figures of speech’, Shulgi’s own words showed that he was not making love to a mere figment of his imagination, but to a real-live ‘goddess’; a member of an elite set of real, flesh-and-blood entities of advanced technology who dominated the lives of ordinary people for millennia, lording even over kings.
Because Shulgi’s reign was during the sensitive time of the biblical Abraham (who was born 2123 BC), when great tension existed between certain rival gods, the gods were displeased with Shulgi as he became more and more preoccupied with Inanna and less with matters of State, so they eventually executed him in the same chaotic year, 2048 BC, that Abraham, at 75 years old, was commanded to leave for the Negev, in Canaan. In A praise poem to Shulgi, one of the greatest pieces of double-speak I have ever seen, Shulgi appears to plead with the gods to bear with him on the one hand…but with the very same diction (words) displays utter derision and defiance.
The poem (which I prefer to call Ode to Inana), contains at least 102 lines of text (a few lines are missing) and almost every line ends with the salutation me-en (gods).
Last week I extracted only the first four lines from this poem and then used Setswana to unlock their true meaning. Now, some readers, I seem to get, may not have understood that the ‘funny’-looking line I typically begin with is taken directly from Sumerian. In other words, Sumerian was originally written in a style called ‘cuneiform’, but eventually philologists and linguists were able to piece together how each symbol was pronounced (i.e. the phonetics of the writing). It is, however, one thing to get the phonetics right…and quite another to understand what those phonetic syllables are saying. So, the Sumerian syllables are basically as they should be, but it takes Setswana to make proper sense of those syllables. Ultimately, then, I am not translating Sumerian into Setswana; Sumerian already is Setswana. I am merely transliterating the syllables into modern Setswana so that the reader can better understand those syllables and see that they are indeed invoking a Setswana-like language. The only actual translation I am doing is into English.
Now, this is how scholars have arranged the syllables of the first line of the poem: Lugal, me-en, cag-ta ur saj, me-en. To make better sense for the modern Motswana, last week I took the same syllables and put them like this: Lugal, me-ene, ka go ta ur saj, me-ene, which means “King [I am], my gods, by coming to Ur [already] wise, my lords. This, I explained, was Shulgi confirming to me-ene (the gods) that he was already wise when he became king of Ur. For a more detailed explanation on this line, please read last week’s article. But I also said that Culgi was full of double-speak and that this innocent-seeming line was hiding a defiant layer and tone. How is that possible? Lugal, me-ene, kake ga ta gore “sa je”, me-ene means “A king, my lords, cannot be one who does not eat, my lords”. What does that mean? As in Setswana, the term ‘eat’ here is actually a vulgar term that means ‘have sex (with)’. So Shulgi is actually telling the gods that a king is supposed to ‘eat’…and that’s it! A defiant tone indeed, regarding his affair with Inanna.
Line two reads thus: cul-gi-me-en ba-tu-ud-de-en-na-ta nita kalag-ga-me-ene, which last week we transliterated afresh to Culgi, me-ene ba thute ena tsa nnete‘a kalaga, me-ene and then retranslated it as “May the gods teach Culgi, the truths about greatness, my lords”. What is the defiant layer here, using the very same syllables? Culgi me-ene ba thole; ene ne’a ta nitakala ‘a me-ene (“Regarding Culgi, the gods must keep quiet; he is not the rubbish of the gods”). There are many plays on words here. Thole (keep quiet) and thote (gather up) predicate on the l/d phoneme (sound-shift), and thote indeed goes with ‘rubbish’ in that, one level, Culgi is saying they might as well pack him up for dumping if they consider him to be their rubbish! Another defiant line.
Line three reads: pirij igi huc ucumgal-e tud-da-me-en, whose syllables I last week rearranged as follows: phiri, je, e ke ha kuku-m’galo e thuta, me-ene (secrets, like that, as when the Great Bird teaches, my Lords), and which I explained as continuing the pleading layer; the theme of ‘wanting to learn from the gods’. The ‘Great Bird’ referred to Thoth, the Great Teacher, whose symbol is the Ibis: a great bird. What is the defiant layer here? The same syllables can be arranged thus: Phiri e je’ e ke ho kokomala e a thuta, me-ene (Secretly it eats; as if just sitting around instructs anyone, my lords). Here, Culgi is saying that he will rather ‘eat’ secretly than sit idly by, because that does not add to experience.
Line four concludes thus: lugal an ub-da 4-ba-me-en, which, on the contrite layer, I transliterated as: Lugal u noo ba da 4 ba me-ene. this means “[I the] King came to be one of the Great Four of the gods” and I had explained that in those days the gods had divided their areas of rule into four great regions Mesopotamia (1), Egypt (2), Indo-Europe (3) and Canaan (4). Culgi was king in Mesopotamia. But what is the irreverent, defiant layer to this? Lugal u noo ba da; 4 ba me-ene (“The king has eaten them; four of those belonging to the gods”). Culgi is simply saying that he has made love to at least four goddesses in his life. It was no wonder he eventually got into trouble: surely the gods came to discern this other layer. But that was not all. An even more irreverent layer was concealed within this very same diction, to be unpacked next week!
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