Enki�s journey to Nibiru: the inciting layer
L M Leteane | Wednesday September 28, 2016 16:14
The first layer showed the Sumerian scribe as truly grateful for having been selected by his ‘god’ and master, Enki, to accompany him on a journey to N’ibiru and back. N’ibiru (Na-hibiru: the ‘Reddish One’), I explained, refers to Mars, the ‘Red Planet’…also called ‘Mu’, or ‘Lahmu’ in full: literally La ha Mu: ‘[Land] of Mu’). It is, purportedly, the home planet of the gods…but some left it for Earth when it was devastated by a cosmic incident that stripped it of most of its crust, water and atmosphere, becoming the ANU.NNA.KI of Sumerian legend: [Those Who] From the Heavens (A Nu) Stayed (nna) on Earth (ha Ki).
Now, despite the fact that conventional archaeologists and anthropologists view ‘gods’ as mere figments of ancient and primitive imaginations, ‘Forbidden Archaeology’ evidence suggests that ‘gods’ were real, flesh-and-blood hominid beings of highly advanced technology which they kept to themselves mainly to be regarded with awe by ordinary people; to lord even over ‘mortal’ kings. And, properly translated, Sumerian scribes are in complete agreement with this. But these scribes, we discovered, were not always so reverent to their elite masters in their writings. To avoid their wrath, however, they mastered the art of double-speak; of using the same words to appear to be praising the gods whereas on a deeper level they were busy insulting them. This they did by being economical with vowels – a practice later adopted by Egyptian writing (hieroglyphics) which then influenced Hebrew writing. This practice enabled a reader, clued into their vernacular, to insert his own vowel ‘fillers’ that lead to other intended layers of meaning.
So far, we utterly dismissed the conventional translation for the few lines I extracted: they go on about ‘sacred architecture’ created and decorated for “Lord Nudimmud…[whose] brickwork makes utterances and gives advice”…nothing at all to do with Enki’s journey to N’ibiru. Yet, after properly transliterating Sumerian – a Sotho-Tswana-like language – we clearly articulated a story in which a ‘Dark One’ (a black person) was relating how excited he was at blasting off from the ‘Abzu’ (Ha-ba-Tsho: ‘Place of the Black People’) and riding the ‘m’doga-doga (space-rocket) of the Igigi (astronaut-giants)’. Last week we unpacked another layer in which the scribe was affecting a tone of bravado in which he projects himself as one who could now count himself amongst the gods because he underwent their most sacred and distinctive act: that of blasting off into space, to the heavens, whence they came.
But with Sumerian scribes, things are never as they appear on the superficial layer meant for the consumption of the gods. So, what could another layer of meaning be other than the scribe’s expression of great excitement? This week, we discern a layer the gods were never meant to perceive at all; where – using the very same diction – he incites his fellow ‘Dark Ones’ to rise to the level of the gods and (elsewhere) to actually overthrow them because they do not treat them well. How did he, using the very same diction, convey that bitterness? Let us see us revisit Lines 9 to 14 of the epic.
As noted, by the time he reaches Line Nine of the epic, the scribe has challenged his fellow ‘Dark Ones’ to aspire, and rise, to the level of the gods as it was well within their rights and capabilities: suh kug galam dug-ga abzu-ta ed-a (“Zu he ka go kalama, doga A-ba-tsho; taa eja”), which translates as: “The Dark Ones can also climb aboard this thing (space-craft); come on Black people, come and eat.” ‘Eat’ here, invites them to ‘taste’ something better. Line Ten: en nu-dim-mud-ramu-un-na-sug-sug-ge-ec (“Ene o, di a mo dira monna, a sug-sugeka: This one here (i.e. the scribe), they (the gods) made a man out of him; he became polished.” Line Eleven: e kug-ga i-ni-in-du na za-gin-na i-ni-in-gun (“E Kgoa, ga ga nna ntu e ne e sa kena ini gono: These Akhus (Makgoa), they did not become gods without getting inside that thing (space-rocket).”)
Line Twelve: gal-le-ec kug-sig-ga cu tag ba-ni-in-dug (“Ga le leke koo; ga se ga ko ta ga ba-nni-ini-I’ndoga: We must try on our own; this thing (space-rocket) is not a thing only the astronauts could bring.” Line Thirteen: eridugki-ga egu-a bi-in-du (“He re doga Ki, gae ha go a ba ini ntu?: When we left Earth, were there no gods left here?” the scribe challenges – rhetorically asking if, left on their own, will things revert to utter primitiveness; that, couldn’t they be as gods too? Line Fourteen: sig-bi inim dug-dug ad gi-gi (seke he be, ena, m’togo-togo ‘a di Igigi): I have never been, myself, a spineless weakling of the Igigi.” The Igigi, I explained before, were the giant ‘Watchers’ of legend; gi!gi! is onomatopoeia for ‘heavy footsteps’ and is the source of gigiante, the root of ‘giant’.
At this particular discerned layer, and unlike last week, the scribe is not just projecting himself as one who was not frightened and helpless in the face of such awesome technology, but has raised the bar and challenged his fellow ‘Dark Ones’ to put their heads together and try to match the coordinated awesomeness of the gods; that they too can do it. Not only in Line 14, but elsewhere, he despises total submission to the gods who he sees – on a potential level – as his equal. But all this merely hints at envy and successfully masks a certain bitterness with the gods that only comes through in the last and most irreverent layer I have discerned.
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