The 13th Tablet

‘Yup. The army realised early on I had a special aptitude for maths, so they enrolled me in their engineering and water management courses.’

‘How long were…Are you still in the army?’

‘I joined in my late teens, and sort of quit a few years ago.’

‘Sort of?’

‘Well, I quit officially but since then I’ve participated as an independent contractor for certain missions.’

‘Like a mercenary?’ She asked, taken aback.

‘If that’s how you want to see it, yes. But it isn’t really like that. It’s well paid and I can choose my missions and work with people who won’t screw them up.’

Jack seemed to hesitate but then added, ‘I’ve also worked for non-military agencies over the years for which I received special training, but that’s all I can say about them.’

Mina let the information sink in and then swiftly changed the subject.

‘So, why did you quit the army?’

‘For a number of reasons but mainly because the job felt repetitive. I’d go in with a team, do the job, and leave. I never exchanged a word with civilians on the ground. One day I woke up and just felt that people and missions had become figures and statistics.’

‘Were you only stationed in Iraq?’

‘God no. I’ve worked in many hot spots: Bosnia, Somalia, on the Thai-Burmese border, you name it. But I spent the last few years in and out of Iraq. I heard of the many water-related humanitarian projects, like the one at the village where you met me. I had engineering knowledge and the military training to pull it off. I saw an opportunity for change and I quit.’

‘I’m glad you made that choice. I may never have met you otherwise.’

‘It felt good, you know; I felt in touch with people again, not just fellow soldiers. Your arrival changed everything. I was suddenly catapulted back into special forces mode.’ He winked and added, ‘but it wasn’t all bad.’

After a silence, Jack said, ‘I hope when all this is over we can go for a stroll in the moonlit desert. I know a nice spot close to a village outside Mosul.’

‘I’d like that very much,’ Mina beamed.

It was time to get back to the van. They dressed up warmly with coats Jack had stacked up in the back, alongside sacks she did not dare ask about. ‘Probably more soldiering toys,’ she thought to herself.

‘Tell me more about the flood,’ Jack said when they were back on the road. ‘It’s obvious that it’s the root of all our problems right now. And what’s this Chinese oracle bone Wheatley spoke of? I’d love to see it for myself.’

‘The first thing you need to understand is that almost every ancient civilisation has its own flood myth.’

‘Don’t be so superior. Obviously there must be other flood myths around. Even today, there are floods all over the world, every day.’

‘I’m not being superior! God you’re touchy. There’s just so much to explain. I don’t know where to begin.’

‘OK. Just pretend I’m one of your pubescent students. I’m sure it will help to simplify all this.’

‘Now who’s being superior?’

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Alright. I’m not referring to floods in general. I’m talking about the flood, the original one. The flood story from the Bible that you know so well involving Noah and his ark is found in different variations all over the world: the Greeks, for example, have the myth of Deucalion and Pyrrha who survived the flood.’

‘Why would that Greek story be the flood?’

‘Funny you should ask that. Most Christian authors in Antiquity felt the same way, as if the flood was their very own and only made sense within their religious framework. St Jerome believed that the Greek flood was a local flood and not the primordial flood described in the Bible.’

‘I like that. You’re comparing me to a saint.’

‘Yeah, that’s wishful thinking. I’m pretty sure you’re no saint. I managed to do some reading on this subject last week, so let me tell you all about it while it is still fresh in my memory. No interruptions?’

Jack pretended to zip his mouth. She put on a serious air and explained, ‘There’s a Chinese Book called the Shujing, which was probably written around 700 B.C.E. It describes Emperor Da Yu controlling the flood waters that reached to the Heavens. Other parts of Asia have flood myths too. In Vietnam, the Sre people believe a horrific flood came from the sea and covered the earth, destroying everything. Of all humanity only a young man and his sister survived. They floated in a drum, and as the waters abated, they were left high and dry on the top of Mount Yang-La. In India, the flood story begins with terrible winds and rain which last a hundred years. Closer to home, the Native American Hopi explain that the swelling of the primordial river brought about the flood after everyone had become evil and gone mad during the ‘first world’: young men would make love to old women, old men with young girls, people killing each other, people becoming sick, etc. Then comes the flood. In South America, the Aztecs believed that humanity was devastated by a flood during the Fourth sun. All survivors were transformed into monkeys.’