Song of the Hoe: the angrily accusing laye

L M Leteane | Friday October 28, 2016 16:07

Although I have shown it to be Setswana-like in both grammar and words, the puns and double-entendres its scribes employ far exceed the capabilities of modern Setswana scribes. For example, they could pack several layers of meaning in one poem or epic, one layer being innocuous and palatable to the ‘gods’, but several others being decidedly risqué and not meant for the gods to understand. What aided this complex process is a contrivance whereby they were economical with vowels, which practice was later adopted by the Egyptians, who in turn influenced Hebrew writing. This allowed someone clued into their vernacular to add his own vowel ‘fillers’ – which process, however, followed certain strict rules that are unfortunately well beyond the intended scope of this article.

Not understanding that it is Setswana-like, the conventional translations of Sumerian formally adopted by scholars are way off-mark. Firstly, whenever the term al appears in the text, these translators interpret it to mean ‘hoe’. They then envisage a Genesis-type creation process enacted by Enlil, a Creator-god of sorts – an outlook that helps bolster the supposition that ‘gods’ were mere figments of ancient, primitive imaginations, whereas all indications are that they were real, flesh-and-blood beings of super-advanced technology who for millennia dominated the affairs of ordinary beings; who, even 5000 years ago, evidently had spacecraft when mankind was supposed to be wallowing in primitiveness.

Now, correctly understood through Setswana, the poem does not speak of any hoe at all. On the superficial layer we first unpacked for the Song of the Hoe, the scribe expresses how privileged he is to have travelled to Mu and back with the gods, and how tiresomely long the journey was. The journey to Mu (full name ‘Lahmu’: La-ha-Mu – ‘Land of Mu), however, forever changed the stature of the scribe. Indeed, there is a now well-known side-effect of spending long periods in the weightlessness of space: an astronaut grows by an average of about two inches (5 cm) for very four weeks spent there. So, it becomes clear from other lines in the text, that when he returned a giant, he found himself shunned by all women here, which really hurt him.

This complaint, however, barely came through in the second, more salacious layer we saw. There, he speaks mainly in bravado terms, boasting how in Mu he was able to ‘eat’ goddesses almost at will. “Eat”, I explained in previous articles, is a vulgar word – still in use in modern Setswana – meaning “have sex with”. Only after, towards the closing lines of our extract, does he also hint, or admit, that ‘eating’ on Earth is an issue where he is concerned; that goddesses here do not want to be touched by a dark-skinned giant. The pun kuma can mean ‘touch’ (kgoma), or, ‘eat greedily, or heartily, of’ (koma)…especially something sweet like sugar. But a situation whereby the gods are able to ‘eat’ here on Earth – whereas he cannot – he warns, only serves to  contribute to the gods’ big-headedness and must be stopped. In that layer, he is not plainly spelling out what his real gripe is, but in this week’s layer we discern that his real bitterness is with his fellow dark-skinned women.

Line 1: en-e nij-du-e pa na-an-ga-mi-in-ed (“Ene e ne ja tu! E panana ga me, e ne ja: The gods eat you in silence (covertly)! By eating you, they eat what is mine”.)  Ene literally means ‘Lord’, but is reserved mainly for the gods, e.g. EN.KI is ‘Lord of Ki (Earth).  Here the scribe is complaining that the gods regularly sleep with dark-skinned women, though not publicly acknowledging it. In Line 2 he reiterates: en nam tar-ra-na cu nu-bal-e-de (“Ene nama-tara u na ko noo ba lete: Our Dark-skinned One tends to allow a god to do that.”) Line 3: en-lil numun kalam-ma ki-ta ed-de (“Ene le-Illu o noo mo ne kalama; Ki ha a ta a e je-je: An outright god will regularly mount her; here on Earth he has occasion to eat of it/her.) Line 4: an ki-ta ba-re-de saj na-an-ga-ma-an-cum (“Hano Ki, a ta ba re ja; sa janane ga ma-ana-ko-Mu: Here on Earth they eat us; they also eat, amongst themselves, that of the-ones-from-out-there-in-Mu.”) The scribe notes with disgust, here, that the gods are privileged to ‘eat’ of both races of women. Line 5: ki an-ta ba-re-de saj na-an-ga-ma-an-cum (“Ki ante baa re ja; s’aa ja na ana-ga-ma-ana, ko Mu: On Earth, contrary to impressions, they eat; they eat just like out there in Mu.” Line 6: uzu-ed-a saj mu2-mu-de (U-zu e je; ha s’aa ja, mu-Mu, e a ja: Under [cover] of darkness he eats; here he eats, the one-from-Mu, he eats.”) Line 7: dur-an-ki-ka bulug nam-il-la (“Thuge ana, Ki ka buluga, nna mo-Illu!: [I] pound out there in the heavens; on Earth I bulge [with eating], me, a god!”) Here the scribe is being sarcastic, showing how smug the gods must feel, having the best of both worlds. 

Line 8: cal-e mu-un-jar ud al-ed (“Kgale Mu, ono a jaga ho ta a le ja”: When he was still at Mu, long was he itching to hurry back to eat you.”) Again, just like last week, the scribe here is ambiguous as to who ‘he’ refers: he is subtly hinting that he too was looking forward to their company. In this layer, the scribe is clearly blaming his womenfolk for their double-standards; his issue here is not so much with the gods because here on Earth the goddesses took care of their own. In the final layer we will unpack next week, we will detect an outrightly belligerent tone as he finally threatens both the gods and women in general.

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