Institute of International Education Fellowship Award Winner and runner up poet to the 2016 Share Botswana Tourism Fiction Award, Teedzani Thapelo* arrives in Selibe-Phikwe mining town following the catastrophe at BCL mine where 5000 workers lost their jobs to find the township prostrate, the local economy somnolent, and residents comatose in their bewildered anguish. BDP is talking about impromptu and senseless rescue plans, many residents are bolting to start up again in their villages-even the rats are scuttling out, fast; it is a perfect nightmare, not the town he knew as a student when he first prophesied this impending disaster in his PhD thesis, and dramatized it in his controversial polyphonic novel, Seasons of Thunder, under the lead character Batjibilibili Madandume.
We are sitting round some caricature of a table, a most rickety contraption. Its unsteady posture seems ordered for the illustration of life in this dying township, something that, even within the tumult of events here, might stand as a symbol of existence. The men are talking incessantly, and I listen. No subject is taboo here; fights, work, sex, suicides, murders, theft, divorces, betrayals-even matters of sexual infertility, and infidelity.
Politicians in this country, it seems, lead very sordid lives, and the voters are not at all impressed by this charlatan libertinism. They associate it with moral sickness, and political decay. The root of our national problems, it would appear, stem from sexual pervasion, promiscuity and moral darkness on the one hand, and political profligacy and wanton greed, on the other. The argument is Freudian to the core, but not one of the people I am listening to knows anything about psychology. I am puzzled but decide to keep my counsel.
Studies about politics and psychology are nothing new to me. Not one person has a good word to say about the BDP. Ruling party politicians are derided, ridiculed, and yes, insulted as well. These people seem to even know a great deal about the private lives of these politicians, right from chequered public and political careers to their sexual habits and preferences. It’s like I am being introduced, for the first time here, to some obscure, but extremely tantalising, Botswana encyclopaedia; a macabre world of exotic knowledge and rituals, and all these because of the recent catastrophe in Selibe-Phikwe.
Writers are rarely shocked by public utterances. If anything it is our works that often shock and scandalise public sensibilities. But I must admit I find some of these utterances shocking though I am really, I think, beginning to get used to this sort of thing. Everywhere I go in Botswana I come across similar disclosures. How Batswana know these horrifying things is something I still have to fathom. I just wonder what our foreign visitors say when they hear these salacious stories being thrown about with such reckless abandon.
Four police constables walk by, and they are shooed away like some unruly chickens. There is plenty of beer around. It is as if beer is the food of life here, and gossip, the soul of the nation. Such public utterances are, however, more than just amusements of life. They are life itself. Public anxiety, I begin to recall, is a terrible thing. Talk like this has been known even to originate bloody revolutions in some countries.
In their fight against authority, people often start by belittling it. Talk like this is no different from undressing public figures, and exposing their nakedness to brutal violence. That rare thing, the internal gift of simplicity of heart and rectitude of the soul, the very thing that has defined a Motswana public persona for so many years, I note with sadness, is beginning to disappear.
No, Batswana are not becoming sophisticated. Far from it. Sophistication is a mark of civilized conduct. We are just becoming bitter, and vulgar, and unless something is done to trunk this moral decline, from here we can only slide into violence. This I find frightening. I look at these people, and one thing, I discover to my troubled conscience, is that if a government official, a ruling party politician, fell under a bus, right here in the awed presence of this bitter small community, these people would not hesitate to finish the poor fellow off.
Not one of them would call an ambulance. First, they would laugh, and then, in a most casual manner imaginable, finish the person off before quietly disappearing into the gathering darkness. Around the wobbly huge table I notice a lot of rust, dust, grime-soot aloft, and a lot of dirt. But the gathered crowd are mostly well dressed, articulate young folk, and full of so much gossip, I begin to wonder, if they have always lived like this.
But they tell me that is not so. Since the collapse of the mine, and the loss of jobs, people feel a strong affinity to come together, and talk. What about? Anything and everything. Do they intend sticking around? No, what is the point. I venture to murmur something about government help…and a few chaps move away from me. Mentioning such things in Selibe-Phikwe is like farting in public. People just move away from you, especially the youth.
One young lady tells me even the rats are scuttling out! Rats? I am not telling a lie, she vows. Rats are indeed scuttling out. Where to? Simple. Many people are returning to their villages. Do the politicians know this? Oh, yes, she says…and they don’t care. Truth of the matter is madokrag want the land of Selibe-Phikwe for themselves, their children, and their foreign friends. So, re ba tohelela lefatshe la bone. They don’t want us here. Ah, I see. I had not prepared myself for conspiracy theories in this wretched town.
A ba sale ka lefatshe la bone. Oh, I see. But what really happened here? Who knows a chorus of unconcealed indignation shoots back, followed by a peel of brittle laughter, disturbing and frightening. I soon meet something even more strange in this small crowd; an amateur philosopher. The people of Selibe-Phikwe, he says garrulously and impatiently, have always lived with trouble. We have always lived with trouble, or expected to be in trouble. It seems people here can never be happy unless something goes wrong.
Trouble is our name. Now this is deep stuff, profound. Something that some busybody like Freud might want to investigate. So I asked why. He smiles at me uneasily. He looks dismal, but naughty. A real philosopher, perhaps? Then he says something most unexpected, a small whisper just above his breath; I know you, he says. You are Teedzani. As a writer you must be able to figure such things out. I was staggered. But then I noticed something else.
He had delivered this shocking revelation clandestinely, almost above a whisper, smiling knowingly and mischievously. The revelation was just a secret between us two; he didn’t want to endanger my life, he just wanted me to know that he knew me, he knew what I was up to, but that was not his business. This touched me a great deal. I have written about Selibe-Phikwe before, in both my PhD thesis, and the novel Seasons of Thunder. Yet I had forgotten there were such people in Selibe-Phikwe, smart, considerate, hardworking people. I felt sick.
But I had set myself an assignment and I wanted to see it through. So I thanked him, with a smile and conspiratorial eye. There is always a touch of romance in writing. Once you get your teeth into something, it is never easy to let go. We sat rather silent for a while. Till someone bought some more beer. Then we returned to philosophy again. I was reminded that everything dies; youth, wealth, achievements, human strength, genius…le madomkrag tota, and that in Botswana nothing really ever endures.
So the mess at the mine was expected? No, says the philosopher; we never thought they could go this far, the bloody wretched bastards! This outburst draws a lot of snorting and sniggering. I should admit it was quite an experience to hear a philosopher swear. I was beginning to absorb this new intellectual novelty when all of a sudden everybody started talking excitedly; all at once. Mapolotiki kill everything willy-nilly every day, without mercy, without rest.
It is not an easy thing to live with a politician. Ga e le madomi bone…phooo! Ga ba lapisewe ke go senya. Madomkrag mistrust other Batswana, they mistrust the youth, they mistrust common sense…and they make a point of showing all these things in a thousand little ways. Like closing the mine? Oh, that was a trick. There is more to it than sees the eye. They like to create confusion. They love moments of great confusion…a useful smokescreen for stealing public assets.
Did I notice lately a lot of BDP granddads and grandmamas were retiring? Ba ya go ja eng? Ke batho ba dijo…mo dijong o ka ba bolaa. Ah. Of course. That rotten habit of colossal greed again. I hear about it everywhere I go. I was not about to engage this noisy but amicable enough crowd in technical economic arguments. Nobody wants to make an enemy in Selibe-Phikwe right now, and I am not a fool. So I agreed with them that the mouths and bodies of madomi are designed for eating only.
Shit happened in this beastly hole, says a skinny boy inhaling cigarette smoke with such desperate effort I feared he would overdo the whole thing and faint. Miraculously he survives. I notice his fingers, which tremble a little, are dark like a smoked ceiling. He could not have been more than fifteen. I looked at the weary and serious faces of these unlucky people. Selibe-Phikwe is going away from them piecemeal. This has been happening for more than twenty years.
I wonder how many of them noticed. It is not an easy thing to live in a town that is being gutted bit by bit every year, being stupid with fatigue and thinking of nothing but empty existence and survival…without spirit enough to even wish yourself dead. For most of these people there is no longer any real life here, only angry crowds and benumbed political authority, indifferent and reckless. They are exposed to extinction like some sailors on a raft at sea.
They grope in ruins, surrounded by wreckage, jabbering cheerfully to themselves, clinging on to their berth, hoping for miracles, and meantime inexorably drifting to the fag-end of their endurance. Crowded in that carcass of a township, the hungry crowd has to contend with endless official tinkering and mock rescue plans that never come to anything. Is it any wonder even the rats are scuttling out? The young lady confides to me that magodu a fodogetse ko Palapye…go maswe rra.
The smoking kid says mining is a foolish business. He always knew it would end badly. It is not even possible now to buy anything on credit in the town. Every shopkeeper knows us, he says laughing. You just cannot lie to anyone. Ba re itse sentle! I ask about the miners. What happened to them? O se ka wa bua ka matagwa a le, says the young lady furiously; ba ile…ka bontse…ba re togeletse bana ba ba senang maina …ba ile.
I see I have touched a raw nerve. So I retreat. It is a terrible thing to live the life of youth in ignorance and hope. The youth of that young girl is right where she is and so long as she lives in that wretched town it will always throw her years and her weariness in her face. She was born in that city, reared in it, has lived all her life in it, and most probably she will never know another town again. And yet people still want to see her only home die. Things like this break my heart. Of course, there is still her youth to make her patient.
But really how many youth in Botswana have any hope about their future lives and happiness? Absurd delusions, like absurd dreams, have long ceased to sit well with the placid ignorance and agitation of our youth. The loneliness and emptiness surrounding their stolid souls are things so deep our officials no longer bother to look too much into them. Sadly even most parents are giving up on them. Generally, our youth are no more than just children of the streets and birds of the night.
They are like people who have been blown up in some miserable ship at sea, and government, it is obvious, is already done with their ridiculous troubles. In fact nobody cares about them at all. They are regarded as profane scallywags with no redeeming points. Yet in reality these are really frightened children, and this unconcern, is hurting them deeply.
The real people to blame are parents, public professionals, and politicians, all of whom now are very expert at how to shirk, and laze, and dodge when it comes to looking after young people in times of crisis. Selibe-Phikwe is no exception. I never bothered to go into government offices and talk to BDP officers about these things.
I have always found their stupid arrogance and ignorance too annoying to help such situations. I also happen to know our youth have neither time nor respect for government officials, and I know why. It will take more than the racket in that town to unite our youth to the bosom of parents and the care of bureaucrats. The real tragedy is that on the surface of things one is inclined to think these children are actually capable of making merry in the midst of all this violence and disasters.
But truth be told, these children are suffering, terribly; and it won’t be long before the weary ghost of their wholesome miserableness bursts into public life like a maddening grace, like a gift of sorrow, to this unfortunate country, further obliterating hope and public security. Feeling frustrated, and already tired, I rise to leave. I take infinite precautions about my movements. People are known to die in the night in this country. We have become a land of incorrigible vultures. My host is a homeboy who styles himself a small businessman. What do you do, I want to know. But he only laughs.
I dare not live in any public place. Bakalanga are generally very upright people. So I really don’t expect my host to be some rotten cannibal. After ten he announces he is going to church. Don’t worry cousin; he says, cheerfully, I will see you in the morning. I am reassured when he brings in the landlady and tells her, I am a trusted relative, and that I won’t cause any trouble. She looks at my luggage, and writing gear, and nods her approval. She is a huge woman, rather sullen.
Left to my devices, I start pondering events of the day, and the preceding few months. I am a little ashamed to see my room is sparkling clean. Obviously my young host went to a lot of trouble to make me feel at home…in this town where nothing can be bought on credit anymore. I feel guilty as hell. A faint breeze through the boarded-up window feels me with breathless delight…till I remember where I am. I pity these people for the unlucky choices they have made.
The town is plainly not much of a home but they have lived here all their lives, and it is now evident the prop they chose to sustain their lives is a rather poor walking stick. There is trouble everywhere, every time. Do they really apprehend the fatal signs? After the present stage of stupor, of incredulity, and of indignation, there must at some point appear the poignant finger of fatal encounters. I doubt even BDP is prepared for this, if they really anticipate this eventuality. All signs, though, are that it will come.
These people must open their eyes to the fundamental changes of the modern world. It is not only the known things and good men of our time who have departed. Departed too are the opportunities which we used to know how to seize. It is no use mincing matters. Words like progress, prospects…are now things we can only murmur with caution. A black night has descended on the fortunes of man and his prized possession; society.
I sat thinking for a very long time. Batswana, I considered, had long thought, and felt, they could depend upon the country to make her courses through any troubled waters. But now her compasses are out, and there is no telling what might happen to you before the week is out. We had always assumed her great age had given her wisdom, knowledge, and steadiness. But we had never really reckoned with those bumbling misfits at Government Enclave. I felt great anger mounting in my breast.
I once thought I knew well the order, the sights, and even the people of this country. Now I am no longer so sure, and this I always find terribly irritating. Even when one is going round many parts of this country, it is becoming well-nigh impossible to hear the same voices in the same places. Certainty and consistency, the hallmarks of all civilizations, are things we still need to nurture.
Unpredictability and personal endangerment are still marks of daily human experience-not a very enterprising life for a small country that once held so much promise for so many. The downfall of Selibe-Phikwe, which has shaken thousands of people like an earthquake, is just one instance of incessant human vulnerability in this country. We should expect more, and if you doubt me, start counting.
Many people are ashamed about the ruin of that town. The really surprising thing, I discovered to my shock, is that many had even believed in the stability of BCL groups of companies and their mining ventures; the result of misinformation by BDP officials. It is natural, I suppose, that people should take genuine pleasure in their possessions, in the dignity of their reputations and their wealth.
But to live a lie; that is worse than a sin. To mistake a town like Selibe-Phikwe for a garlanded perpetual festival with an unfading wreath is nothing more than self-delusion. Don’t even ever feel the same way about Botswana; not unless you wilfully want to set yourself for a horrible disappointment. BDP’s punctuality in failure is a matter of recorded history. It doesn’t really matter where you live. Always expect national failure to visit you there. The people of Selibe-Phikwe must now brace themselves to the derogatory nature of failed human experience.
Unfortunately, many are defenceless before this insidious work of adversity. That much I saw with my own eyes. The more rigorous the open assaults on their fate and fortunes, the poorer the firm front they can present. The more open the battering of the sea of endless problems and troubles, the weaker the cliff gets, and far too many people are tumbling over, astounded and miserable.
Men and women once substantial and dignified now find themselves confronted with the unenviable task of reassessing their fortitude. What to the nation was merely a rushed closure of the mine is to them a momentous event involving a radically new view of life, and many do not like this at all, not a bit of it. The hopes of their youth, the exercise of their abilities, every feeling and achievement that gratified their great expectations, had all been indissolubly connected with that wretched mine. Now they are asking themselves, what next?
The propositions by BDP to do something about the situation are treated with scorn. They are used to this kind of empty talk, it is a creed traced in obsolete words-in a half-forgotten language. To accept this phony political pity is like stripping naked so they can be kicked again to the ground. They are not going to give themselves away for less than nothing. They have no use for anyone’s pity. I sat thinking these things for half a night while the township slept, its sorrows heaving uneasily in the hearts of thousands of disappointed souls, and then, as usual, around three, I started writing.
I wrote for a long time. At daybreak my young friend returned. How was church, I asked. He laughed. He was already dressed for work…another phantom of the dark night. He noted I hadn’t slept and proposed breakfast. I kindly declined. An hour later I was on my way to Gaborone. I figured I had stayed long enough in this heart of darkness. Only five days, and I had gathered enough material for a book. A good writer does not need details. They tend to muffle and stymie the perception of things. Philosophy of Death and the Ruin of Selibe-Phikwe is now with a publisher.
Teedzani Thapelo* is former Distinguished Africa Guest Researcher at Nordic Africa Institute, Research Associate at the Centre for Economic Policy in Southern Africa, Economic History Lecturer at the University of Botswana, and author of Philosophy of Death and the Ruin of Selibe-Phikwe: abandonment and revolt, forthcoming in 2018.
Princess Mary falls pregnant only one month after her betrothal to Prince Joseph
To put the lineage of Mary the mother of Jesus in context, General Atiku, it is in order that we begin with her grandfather Yehoshua (Jesus in Greek) III.
Mary was offspring of two royal lines, the Davidic line and the Hasmonean line. Yehoshua III was the Herod–appointed High Priest of Israel between 36 and 23 BC. He had no sons, only three daughters namely Joanna, Elizabeth, and Anna, all of whom he organised dynastic suitors.
Elizabeth would be married off into the House of Aaron, the legitimate priestly line, and Joanna and Anna would be married off into the House of David, the legitimate kingly line. That’s how Elizabeth became the wife of Zechariah of the tribe of Levi and in due course the mother of John the Baptist.
Mainstream Israel up to the level of the Sanhedrin had recognised Anna as the eligible mother of the future King of Israel and not the sitting impostor Herod (it is not clear what happened to first-born Joanna but she probably passed away before she got married). Anna was accordingly married off to Alexander III, a Davidic and Hasmonean prince who was best known as Heli as indeed the genealogy of Luke clearly attests.
Heli and Anna too had no sons. They only had daughters, the firstborn of whom was Dorcas, whose was born in 26 BC and whose titular name was Mary. Mary was orphaned early in her childhood when her father Heli was killed in 17 BC at the orders of the increasingly paranoid Herod and when her mother Anna died a year or so later.
Since she was a dynastic heiress, it was likely that Herod would come after her. The Essenes thus secreted her somewhere in remote Galilee. It was actually in Galilee that most members of the Davidic royal line were concentrated not only to keep as far away from Herod as possible but to also enjoy the protective custody of the Zealots, who were the secret military wing of the Essenes and a thorn in the side of both Herod and the Romans. Joseph was also officially based in Galilee although both he and Mary were in truth based at Qumran in the Judean wilds.
JOSEPH CALLED TO “DUTY”
Dynastic marriages are often more politically strategic than spontaneous, General. For example, the union of Prince Charles and Princess Diana was motivated by the need to fuse the Windsor genes with those of the Stuarts as the Windsors, being predominantly Reptilians, were finding it increasingly difficult to maintain their human form.
The Stuarts, the clan of Diana, had by far more human genes than Reptilian and they too were an aristocratic family. That’s why once Charles had produced a “heir and a spare”, he completely sidelined Diana, who he had never loved, and devoted himself to his real love – Camilla Parker-Bowles.
The marriage of Joseph to Mary, General, was equally strategic. Although both were from the tribe of Judah and of the royal Davidic line, they were from different branches. Joseph was a descendant of Solomon, whereas Mary was a descendant of Nathan, Solomon’s elder brother. The line of Solomon, as we once underlined, had been tainted by the Jeconiah curse.
The line of Nathan was clean. Since the son of Joseph and Mary would be the future King of Israel, it was important that he not be compromised by the baggage, rightly or wrongly, of the Jeconiah curse. Hence the desirability of the union of Prince Joseph and Princess Mary.
Now, both Joseph and Mary’s clans were Essenes. As such, their marriage process, formalities, and protocols had to strictly adhere to Essene dynastic rules. The Essenes were in ranks. Amongst the higher echelons were the two great dynasties, the Davids and the Zadoks, who had been the high priests and kings of Israel respectively before the destruction of the Temple by Nebuchadnezzar in 586 BC.
The Davids and Zadoks lived a strictly holy life, typically in a monastery at Qumran, the reclusive headquarters of the Essenes. They were sequestered there so that they did not fall prey to the machinations of the bloodthirsty King Herod though officially their address was Galilee. In fact, the major reason the Essene movement had come into existence was to preserve and safeguard the Davidic and Zadokite lines, the religio-politico haunt of Herod and the Hasmoneans initially.
According to the Essene code, General, the Zadoks and the Davids were not to engage in sex for recreational purposes because it was regarded as defiling: it diluted holiness. The only times they were supposed to do so was when need arose to produce heirs. In 8 BC, it was now opportune for Joseph, the David, to produce a heir and so he was excused from a life of chastity.
At this point in time in fact, the Essenes were focused on two dynastic figures. These were Joseph and Zechariah. The two were expected to produce the Messiah of David and the Messiah of Aaron, that is, the future King of Israel and the future High Priest of Israel.
According to Essene rules, the David had to marry at age 36, so that by the time he was 40, he had already sired a heir. The new heir had to be born when the David was 37. If the child was a daughter, she could not inherit, and so the David had to set about the procreation of a second-born, who hopefully would be a boy (copulation to that end was allowed only when the daughter was 3 years old).
The Davidic heir had to be born not in any other month but in September, the holiest in the Jewish calendar. In order to conform to these parameters, a betrothal ceremony was held at the beginning of June. During the betrothal period – the three months from beginning of June to end of August – sexual relations were not permitted.
Then at the beginning of September, a First Marriage was held. This was the beginning of the marriage proper as now the couple were allowed to become intimate. However, the intimacy began only in December, with a view to delivering a heir in September the following year. At the end of March, the Second Marriage was held for it was hoped that by that time the spouse was three months pregnant if there hadn’t been a miscarriage. With the Second Marriage, the wedlock was permanent: divorce was never allowed whatsoever.
Meanwhile, General, if the spouse hadn’t conceived in December, sexual relations were suspended till December the following year. The husband would then leave her spouse and return either to the monastery at Qumran or embark on a tour of duty elsewhere in furtherance of the Essene cause.
A BINDING ENGAGEMENT
According to the Dead Sea Scrolls, General, the Essenes were not only a spiritual, revolutionary, and philosophical movement. They were also ardent believers in astrology. They meticulously studied the stars and the movements of planets to read what they portended about the future.
Thus the reason a Davidic heir had to be born in September was not only because this was the holiest month of the year: it was also in recognition of the fact that September was ruled by the constellation Virgo. In other words, September was astrologically the month of the virgin. That was what Mary was.
Mary was both a virgin physically and a virgin titularly. A bride of the future king was required to be a virgin. As an Essene, Mary belonged to the Order (not the tribe) of Dan. This was the Order of Nuns, or virgins, both legal and physical virgins. Thus in the Order of Dan, a woman was not a virgin only before she slept with a man: she was a virgin until she was six months pregnant. In the case of a dynastic spouse like Mary, this was up to end of June. From then henceforth, she was promoted within the Order to the first stage of a Mother.
Joseph’s betrothal to Mary took place at Qumran in June 8 BC. Now, in our day, betrothal simply means engagement to be married. In ancient Israel up to New Testament times, betrothal was part and parcel of the marriage contract. It was definite and binding upon both groom and bride, who were considered as man and wife in all legal and religious aspects, except that sexual relations were not permitted.
For example, in 2 SAMUEL 3:14, King David refers to his betrothed woman as “my wife”. Also in DEUTERONOMY 22:24, a betrothed woman is referred to as “his neighbour’s wife”. In the betrothal formalities, dowry and bride price were included. If a bride and groom for one reason or the other wanted to opt out of the betrothal after the betrothal ceremony, they had to seek a formal divorce.
Since the betrothal took place in June, General, Joseph and Mary were not supposed to make love till December, that is, six months after the betrothal ceremony and three months after the First Marriage ceremony in September. Just one month after the betrothal ceremony (that is, at the beginning of July 8 BC), however, Mary became pregnant. Was it Joseph, General? Was it rape by a Roman soldier called Panthera as some contemporary records suggest? Or was it simply the supernatural act of the “Holy Spirit” as Christendom holds?
THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS
Those who hold that the circumstances of Mary’s pregnancy were supernatural, General, can be excused. This is because the language employed therein smacks of ethereality – Holy Spirit, Angel Gabriel, Son of the Most High, etc. To those who have read and rigorously studied the Dead Sea Scrolls, however, such terminology is well within the temporal context.
That is to say, it does not carry spiritual connotations as such. True, the idea of an angel speaking to Joseph and Mary in their sleep may seem supernatural but the dreams are theological interpolations, inserted into the gospels in onward editing to fit a contrived agenda – what Karl Marx called the opium of the masses.
The Dead Sea Scrolls are so named because they were discovered in caves around the Qumran plateau of the West Bank (about 40 km east of Jerusalem), at the northwest corner of the Dead Sea, in March 1947. The discoverer was a Bedouin shepherd kid who was looking for a lost goat. The scrolls were found hidden in jars.
The 1947 find was the initial discovery: more discoveries were made after further excavations on the same site spanning 11 years in a series of 11 caves. Altogether, 972 texts were turned up. They are written in four languages, namely Hebrew (the majority), Aramaic, Greek, and Nabatean, mostly on parchment. Other texts were inscribed on papyrus and bronze.
Most of the Dead Sea Scrolls are fragments. Fragments of all the Old Testament books have been found save for the book of Esther. The only complete book is Isaiah. There are also apocryphal books (those arbitrarily excluded from the Old Testament canon by the Constantine-convened Nicene Council of AD 325) such as the Book of Enoch and the Book of Jubilees, and sect-specific writings that embody rules and beliefs of the people who compiled them.
The latter include commentaries on the Old Testament, paraphrases that expand on the Law of Moses, rule books of the community, war conduct, thanksgiving psalms, hymnic compositions, benedictions, liturgical texts, and sapiential (wisdom) writing. These texts have been given appropriate titles such as the War Scroll; Manual of Discipline; the Community Rule; the Temple Scroll; the Copper Scroll; etc.
The Dead Sea Scrolls were written/preserved by the Essenes between 168 BC and 68 AD. We know this because Pliny, the first century Roman historian, wrote that, “On the west coast of Lake Asphaltitis (the Dead Sea) are settled the Essenes, at some distance from the noisome odours that are experienced on the shore itself.
They are a lonely people, the most extraordinary in the world, who live without women, without love, without money, with the palm trees for their only companions.” The Essenes stashed away the scrolls sometime in 70 AD, when Roman General Flavius Titus overran Jerusalem and laid waste to the Temple following a catastrophic Jewish uprising – led by the Zealots, the military wing of the Essenes – that began in 66 BC.
This they did in heed of JEREMIAH 32:14, which says, “Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel; Take these evidences … and put them in an earthen vessel, that they may continue many days.” The Dead Sea Scrolls have given us invaluable insight into the beliefs, customs, rituals, politics, philosophies, and traditions of first century Palestine.
The rivalry between luxury German automotive marques Mercedes-Benz and BMW is legendary. Both brands offer high-end, high-priced desirable models, always at the forefront of cutting-edge driving technology and excellence. And in the annals of the advertising world, a campaign between the two rivals is equally legendary and it happened on our own doorstep.
Many of you will be familiar with the coastal road out of Cape Town called Chapman’s Peak. It is a beautiful, sightseeing attraction, the road winding through spectacular coastal-mountain scenery, with cliffs sinking into the Atlantic ocean on one side, and steep mountains towering over the road on the other. However, the road is also notoriously dangerous, with its 114 sharp, meandering bends . It’s reputation is well-deserved . Several years ago, when a major coastal cleanup campaign was launched, a helicopter pulled a total of 22 wrecked cars out of the water adjacent to Chapman’s Peak and it was one such accident which prefaced the notorious marketing battle. The story is thus:
In 1988 an Irish businessman lost control of his Mercedes Benz when driving along this road, plunging 100 metres down the cliff. Miraculously, he not only survived the accident, but crawled out of the wreckage with hardly a scratch on his body.
When Mercedes heard the details, the marketing department decided to base a new advertisement on the story to promote the safety features and stability of the brand. In the video ad they intentionally drove an identical model off the road in the exact same location, having it plunge off the edge of the cliff, the driver stepping out similarly unscathed, proving the phenomenal survivability and strength of Mercedes Benz.
When the marketing suits at BMW saw this ad, they took a bold and ingenious decision to mimic it but with a twist. Only a week later, whilst the first ad was still fresh in the public’s minds, they shot their ad showing a BMW driving along the exact same stretch of road in the rain. However, when it reached the point at which the Mercedes plunged off the cliff, the BMW negotiated it safely, and continued driving along the road.
The catchphrase of the ad was “BMW beats the bends” . Or was it? It was cunningly recorded so that it could equally have been ‘beats the Benz’, implying that their cars had superior cornering and stability to their rival, Even more sneakily, they launched their campaign on a Saturday, mindful of the rules on competitive advertising in South Africa, safe in the knowledge that no objectionable actions could be taken till the new working week.
Mercedes-Benz wasted no time on Monday in issuing an injunction, the ad was swiftly pulled but the damage was done and the dog had had its day. The ad campaign ranks high in the history of advertising and can still be found online to this day. Meanwhile the rivalry between the two automotive greats goes on.
I reference this piece of marketing history in the light of this week’s horror crash by golfing great, Tiger Woods. Driving from a luxury holiday resort in California to a nearby country club Tiger Woods lost control of his vehicle on a downhill stretch of the road, smashed through a road sign, crossed over the central reservation and rolled his car several hundred feet. He had to be cut out and pulled to safety through the windscreen and the vehicle was so badly damaged, the attending police officers said he was ‘lucky to survive’.
The vehicle Woods was driving was a rented Genesis GV80 SUV. If you are unfamiliar with the brand that is not surprising since it is a relatively new spin-off from the South Korean Hyundai marque. The Genesis utility vehicle, not available locally yet, retails for around $50,000 or half a million pula, placing it in the higher end of town and country SUVs in the USA.
The model has certainly been widely publicised in the media coverage of the high-profile sportsman’s accident and I suspect that if asked to comment, Hyundai/Genesis would disagree with the police assessment, putting Woods’ survival down to build quality and in-built safety features such as crumple zones, anti-roll bars and airbags, which were deployed in the crash and would most certainly have played their part cushioning the effects of the rolling and ultimate impact. There is , of course, no suggestion that the manufacturers will capitalise on Woods’ survival but certainly it will have done the brand no harm that he did indeed emerge with recoverable injuries.
Comparing the two accidents, the driver of the Mercedes driving along Chapman’s Peak was, of course, an ordinary member of the public whilst Tiger Woods is a household name. That said, in humanitarian terms each tale of survival carries equal weight but the fact remains that the former was just another local story of yet one more victim of a notoriously tricky stretch of road whilst the latter went round the world in an instant because of the fame and name of the driver.
There is also no evidence that that stretch of Californian urban highway carried any inherent risk. His appears to have been just a loss of control and a freak accident. However, in the event that Hyundai/Genesis should consider making capital from that accident, a note of caution needs to be sounded.
In the advertising world, the use of celebrities to promote a product is a fall-back stance to sell anything from washing-up liquid to whisky but statistics have shown that it can be a double-edged sword in that yes, the ads are memorable and the public love them when the celeb is popular and personable. But…..what is often remembered is the name of the famous promoter, not the name of the product. In other words, they sell themselves far better than they sell the item.
In golfing terminology Hyundai/Genesis are not ‘out of the Woods’ yet and maybe they should go with a completely different Driver!
How Jesus’s grandfather sold his birthright to megalomaniac Herod
If you were to ask a Christian to name the main Jewish sects, General Atiku, he would no doubt begin with the Pharisees (because Jesus had innumerable slanging matches with them according to the gospels), followed by the Sadducees. Yet there was a third, equally momentous sect – the Essenes.
Although there’s not a single, one mention of the Essenes in the Bible, General, the New Testament is filled with Essene-type language as anybody who has read the Dead Sea Scrolls would readily recognise.
In point of fact, it was the Essenes who produced Jesus as well as the infamous Jewish band of freedom fighters known as the Zealots. Furthermore, almost all the New Testament writers were either Essenes or champions of the Essene cause as is apparent in their language and the drift of their overall philosophy. The Essenes have a palpable presence in the Bible, albeit a cloaked one.
The Essenes, General, were the most popular, the most esteemed, and the most influential of the Jewish sects. The Jewish historian Philo (20 BC-50 AD) devotes 90 percent of his description of the Jewish sects to the Essenes. He wrote that the Essenes “dwell in many cities of Judea and in many villages and in great societies of many numbers”.
Hyppolytus of Rome (170-236 AD) devoted nine-and-half chapters to the Essenes and only one to the Sadducees. The Essenes are the authors of the famous Dead Sea Scrolls, which were discovered in 1947 in Israel at a place called Qumran and which have given us even greater insight into the happenings in the first century than the Bible itself.
How did the Essene movement come about, General? The Essenes, meaning “puritans of the faith”, were the Jewish sect that was the most loyal to the Davidic dynasty. They set themselves apart from the mainstream Jewish community circa 175 BC and established their headquarters at Qumran, about 40 km from Jerusalem.
Since the Jewish nation revered the Davidic royal line, the only legitimate and rightful rulers of Judah in their view, they rallied to the Essenes en masse. And because the Essenes were disparaging of the Hasmonean rule (140 BC to 63 BC), the mainstream Jews also took a dismissive view of Hasmonean rule too.
The Essenes were so highly regarded because of their virtue and spirituality. The legendary Jewish historian Flavius Josephus (37-100 AD) writes thus of them: “They are more mutually affectionate than the others (Pharisees and Sadducees). Whereas these men shun the pleasures as vice, they consider self-control and not succumbing to the passions virtue … Since [they are] despisers of wealth – their communal stock is astonishing – one cannot find a person among them who has more in terms of possessions.
For by a law, those coming into the school (that is, the Essene fold) must yield up their funds to the order, with the result that in all [their ranks] neither the humiliation of poverty nor the superiority of wealth is detectable, but the assets of each one have been mixed in together, as if they were brothers, to create one fund for all.”
In time, the Essenes, General, became quite influential even with occupying powers. For instance, when the Greek General Pompey installed Hyrcanus II as ruler of Palestine in 63 BC, he sought the opinion of the Essenes. The Essenes recommended that Hyrcanus go by the titles High Priest and Prince, not King, to which Pompey paid heed. In 142 BC, when Simon was installed by the Seleucids as ruler of Palestine, the Essenes had insisted on the same titular style. To the Essenes, everybody who occupied Israel’s seat of authority was simply holding fort for the real deal – the Davidic King.
In 37 BC, when Herod became King of Palestine, the potential Davidic King was Jacob-Eliakim – the father of the Joseph of the gospels – who was an Essene himself. It was in order to win the blessings of the historically popular Jewish royal family that Herod sought to curry favour with the Essenes.
JACOB’S PACT WITH HEROD
About the time Herod came to power, General, there were three citizens of considerable stature in Palestine – Hillel, Menahem, and Jacob-Eliakim, the grandfather of Jesus. Hillel is by all accounts ancient Israel’s greatest teacher and scholar.
He was the foremost spiritual sage in the development of the Talmud and the Mishnah, the most authoritative religious references of the Jews which are second only to the Old Testament in esteem. The renowned “Golden Rule”, which is invariably attributed to Jesus, was actually coined by Hillel. It is not certain whether Hillel was an Essene but his teachings did have a profound influence both on Essene philosophy and that of Jesus, who was an Essene too.
It was Menahem, however, who was an incontrovertible Essene. The Essenes were of two main branches, General. First, there were the puritans, the Palestinian Essenes. Then there were the liberals, the Diaspora Essenes, who sneered at the Palestinian Essenes’ dogmatism and rather strict views on morality. Menahem was the leader of the Diaspora Essenes.
He was also privilleged to be advisor to King Herod. Herod did hold Menahem in very high regard. Josephus relates that when Herod was a school-going lad, Menahem had patted him on his back and said to him, “one day you will be King young man.” Since the prophecy came to pass, Herod had a certain, atypical respect both for Menahem and the order of Essenes.
Jacob-Eliakim’s significance was by virtue of his pedigree. He was of the royal line of David and was therefore the uncrowned King of the Jews. Now, as we have already indicated, Herod had his own grand designs about rulership of the world notwithstanding the fact that he was in reality a vassal of Rome.
When he made overtures to the trio, they didn’t mince words: they told him that in the new Israel, the Israel that would rule Earth once the Romans had been toppled from the pedestal of world power, it was a Davidic King who would reign. Herod took very strong exception to such a prospect. Herod was neither a full-blooded Jew nor of Davidic stock but he was royalty in his own right.
His father, Antipater, had been the governor of Idumea and in due course Judea in the Hasmonean government and was in fact the real ruler of the entire Palestine, with John Hyrcanus being a mere figurehead king. When he (Herod) was only 25 years old, his father had appointed him governor of Galilee. Herod thus had strutted the corridors of power from the day he was born and he wasn’t going to give that up easily either for his own sake or that of his descendants.
As such, General, Herod maintained to the trio that in the new, overarching Kingdom of Israel, he was going to be the emperor and would be based in Jerusalem. Just like the Greek empire of Alexander had been a triarchy (a kingdom divided into three governments), the global Kingdom of Israel (“Thy Kingdom Come” in the Lord’s Prayer) was going to be likewise.
There was going to be a ruler in the east, a ruler in the west, and a ruler in the centre, that is Jerusalem, under the oversight of Herod himself. Hillel would rule in Jerusalem; Menahem in the east; and Jacob-Eliakim in the west. If these three happened to have disappeared from the Earthly scene by the time the Kingdom of Israel came into being, their descendants would observe the same setup.
The pecking order would thus be like this: Herod as the emperor; Hillel as the senior king; Menahem as the second-ranked king; and Jacob-Eliakim as the junior king. Put differently, Herod had by the stroke of a pen reduced the Davidic dynasty from foremost to least important as it posed the most serious threat to his office. Meanwhile, the three kings-in-waiting would go by the names of the Old Testament patriarchs.
Hillel would henceforth be called the Abraham, or the Father (or Papa, which later morphed into Pope), since Abraham was the Father of the Jewish nation; Menahem would be called the Isaac (Abraham’s son); and Eliakim the Jacob (Isaac’s son). Half a loaf was better than nothing at all and so Jacob-Eliakim meekly accepted this arrangement.
When Jesus later said, “Many will come from east and west and sit at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the new Kingdom of Heaven (MATTHEW 8:11),” he did not mean an afterlife kingdom: he referred to the Earthly setup proposed by King Herod.
FALLOUT WITH ESSENES
Those days, General, the Davidic heir used the title “Jacob” rather than “David” as the latter title was very risky, particularly under the Hasmonean government. Given that Joseph was the most beloved son of the Old Testament Jacob, the next in line, that is, the firstborn son of the Jacob, used the title “Joseph”.
In September 44 BC, a son was born to Jacob-Eliakim. As the crown prince to the Jacob, he was given the titular name Joseph, the name by which he became best-known. Like his father Jacob-Eliakim, Joseph was a missionary. But he also had a trade. He was a carpenter, a boat builder primarily, and a master of his craft. The word translated “carpenter” in the Bible is the ancient Greek word “ho hekton” which means a master artisan or craftsman.
In 31 BC, Qumran, the Essenes’ Judean wilderness bastion, was struck by an earthquake. The hermitic Essenes had no choice but to trek back to Jerusalem, from where they operated indefinitely at a place they called the Essene Gate. Then in 23 BC, Herod struck again. He had Jacob-Eliakim killed on trumped-up charges of sedition, his motive simply being a continuation of a systematic purge of the Davidic “pretenders” to his throne.
The Essenes were wroth. They now set about promulgating to the Diaspora Essenes that Herod would have no part to play in the coming Kingdom. Instead, the overall King would be Joseph, the son of Jacob-Eliakim. This, General, was the beginning of a permanent rift between Herod and the Essene sect.
THE SAGA OF JOSEPH
The prospective global world, General, was subdivided into ten provinces to facilitate governance and tax collection. Palestine would have two provinces, Judea and Samaria, the latter of which would include Galilee. Asia Minor (largely present-day Turkey), where the bulk of Diaspora Jews were concentrated, would have five provinces.
The last three provinces would be Babylon, Rome, and Alexandria in Egypt. The future capital of the West was not Rome: it was Ephesus in Asia Minor. Having been allocated the West, it was in Ephesus and Alexandria that Jacob-Eliakim spent most of his time evangelizing to fellow Jews about the future Kingdom of Israel. This was the beginning of the New Covenant, whereby Jews who converted to the ideal of a new Kingdom of Israel were baptised by immersion in water.
To mainstream Palestinian Jews, General, Jacob-Eliakim was a sellout. Herod had demoted his pedigree but to somewhat placate him, he gave him the honorary title of Patriarch or Prince of Jerusalem. By subordinating the Davidic throne-in-waiting to Herod, Jacob-Eliakim had gone against what the nation of Israel’s God, Enlil, the Bible’s main Jehovah, decreed – that every King of Judah had to be a descendant of David. So when the unpredictable Herod had him killed in 23 BC for “sedition”, as part of a pogrom against the line of David, there was very little sympathy for him.
In 44 BC, Joseph had been born to Jacob-Eliakim. Joseph was a title: it was not his real name. At the death of his father, Joseph became the Jacob. However, he preferred the title “David”, the more apt one historically. Joseph would become the father of Jesus. When Joseph attained 30 years of age in 14 BC, his uncles and the Essene sages sent him to Rome and Alexandria to do his part in missionary work, which was simply about promulgating to the Diaspora Jews the future Kingdom of Israel in which a Son of David, that is a descendant of King David, would rule. Egypt was also a special place because Joseph’s maternal relations were Egyptians.
Jacob-Eliakim, General, had two wives. The one was called Euchariah, a Jewish princess, of whom very little is known, and the other, the dynastic wife, was an Egyptian princess, a daughter of Queen Cleopatra VII of Egypt and Julius Caesar. Jacob-Eliakim and this princess had three sons: they were Joseph, the father of Jesus, and the twins Cleopas (after whom James, Jesus’ immediate younger brother, whose given name was Cleopas, was named) and Ptolas. Joseph was thus the Davidian Prince of Israel as well as contender to Crown Prince of Egypt. Despite pretences to the contrary on the part of the Jews, Egypt and Israel have always had ties of monarchical kinship.
In 8 BC, General, Joseph was required by Essene custom to return home and fulfill his obligations for a dynastic marriage. A wife-to-be had already been chosen for him by his uncles and other patriarchal Essenes. This was Dorcas, better known today by her title name Mary.