Chapter Six - Niddah

  The Ark 2348 BC

  1656 AAC

  At the first full moon we women retreated into a space at the rear of the ark that Noach had created for our time of purity, whilst the men had another room for their ablutions. I marvelled at the hardwood mikveh that Noach had built, big enough for all four of us to step down into sweet, cleansing rainwater that was released from a pipe connected to a cistern in the roof. He had built a handrail of twisted oak branches, and the steps were made from smooth, flat river stones. The room was large and decorated with fine rugs and cushions. There was a low table to sit and eat at, and we brought our sewing and weaving there. I had been looking forward to it. Time to get to know my daughters-in–law.

  I remembered at the time he was building it, and we had not yet known rain, but Noach always did exactly as instructed by Uriel, on every detail of the build, nothing was overlooked under the guidance the angel of Yah. No one had ever seen such a craft, the size of it, and so far from any body of water. I had wondered at the pipes and gutters that came off the roof of the ark as we neared completion. What were they for?

  Do you trust me?

  He would often say, so seriously, as though one day he was afraid that I would scoff and scorn him, like our many relatives did, on the days that he and Methuselach prophesied in the cities.

  I do. Always. I replied without fail.

  I know you husband, and I know Yah. I don’t understand, but I trust you. Have I not these past many years?

  He would nod and smile, stroking my cheek tenderly before moving off to check on some other project that was being completed about the vessel by our sons. He was always driven and purposeful, he never faltered. If sometimes I doubted, I kept it to myself.

  Here we were after two nights of the full moon, waiting still for our menses to appear. Adatane insisted that they, as sisters living together all their lives, were always in rhythm, always bleeding together at the full moon. No matter. I declared decisively. I was the matriarch now. I realised that I had been preparing for this moment all my life. I have been many things; had many roles over the centuries I have lived. I have known love and loss and all things in-between, but for this time I had been created.

  We will have our first niddah and mikveh regardless. Perhaps we can as usual do three immersions, setting our kavannot, our intentions, for the things we can learn and do whilst on the ark? Set our hearts on the future, and not on the past. Perhaps Yah has halted our cycles until we are in the new world, and you will not conceive a child until our feet are back on soil. Besides,

  I winked at them and smiled.

  It will be nice to have some time together alone. I’m sure that there are many things that you would like to know, and I would like to know more about you. We will be released from our duties for seven more days. Noach will bring us food that the men have prepared for us. We can allow our bodies to rest and feel all that we have been through; stuck pain, stuck feelings will only create sickness in the body.

  I pulled on the rope that released the stopper on the pipes. Water rushed into the tub and quickly filled to a level of four feet so that we could submerge ourselves by slightly crouching in the water. We lit candles and opened one side of the shuttered windows so that the still fulsome moon shone on the water. The women were a little shy as we all stripped naked and walked into the water, thinking what our intentions might be. We did the first immersion together, staying a few moments under the fresh, cold water and then standing, taking a deep breath together, speaking the prayer out in unison, the younger women following my lead, as they had previously confessed that in their old life the niddah had been a perfunctory bathing ritual.

  Barukh atah Adonai Eloheynu

  Melekh ha-olam asher kidshanu

  B’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha-t’vilah

  Blessed are you, Eternal God, ruler of the universe

  Who sanctifies us through mitsvot

  Who has enjoined us in this immersion

  We honour the sacred nature of our experience and the wonders of our bodies.

  We release now what no longer serves us, I added, grief, loss, pain.

  My voice trailed off as grief choked me. For a moment we all wept, but it was a gentle release, a melodic flow of tears, tears of surrender and grief, without anger or shame. Then we took turns with a second immersion. I took the lead. I stayed under the water holding my breath as long as I could, releasing a long-sustained breath,

  Blessed is the Eternal, God of all creation

  Who has blessed us with life, sustained us

  Enabled us to reach this moment.

  How grateful we are Yahuah that you have honoured us to carry the seed that will bring about your Messiah, that a woman’s womb will carry your purposes to the very end of the age.

  One by one my new daughters-in-law shyly shared their intentions, to be good wives and householders, to birth many children, to learn The Way of Yahuah, the Way of Life, and leave behind their old ways of bowing to false gods who worshipped death and war. They were diplomatic, a little reserved, could I be trusted with their innermost thoughts? Over time their guards dropped, but it was the youngest Na’elatama’uk who was naturally the most open and vulnerable with me right from the start. That very first niddah she took the small amulet she had concealed in her robes, a small ivory Inanna, the Queen of Heaven according to the pagan worshippers of the Fallen Ones, beautifully carved, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold,

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  My mother gave it to me, to protect me, but your God is my God now.

  She threw the small figurine out of the window.

  Imagine, she wondered, If thousands of years from now somewhere on the earth, one of our kin finds the amulet, in a country far from its origins, and they tell stories of the people who lived before the great flood.

  It was only into our third niddah that I sensed from Na’elatama’uk that all was not well between her and Cham. She had deep blue bruises on her upper arms. When I asked her about them she seemed confused, went into some elaborate story about tending the giraffes and getting pinned against a stall. The giraffes are the most gentle and placid of creatures. The bruises looked more like someone who did not know their own strength had gripped her roughly.

  I felt a pit in my stomach as a memory flashed into the forefront of my mind. I had chastised Cham as a small boy of nine or ten, for tying some lizards up together by their tails, so that they would fight each other.

  I wanted to see which one was stronger, he said

  if one would pull the other along behind it, or eat off its tail, or kill it. They can regrow their tails you know. I chopped off the tail of one before, and it grew back, I knew it was the same lizard because it had an M on its head…

  His eyes were blank. He was unperturbed by the creatures obvious frantic distress as they continued to pull and fight each other, spinning around in circles, until Shem came along and managed to untie the twine and release them. There was a curious, matter-of-fact coldness about Cham. Maybe he saw a look of disgust on my face because he got sulky and aggressive when I tried to explain his cruelty. He ran off muttering to himself and whacking a stick against every tree he passed.

  Cham often incurred the wrath of his father for his insolence and lack of respect. He was the only one of my sons who seemed to regularly get the rod. I know Noach hated to do it, but Cham never cried, or begged for mercy or forgiveness, nor did he express remorse. He did learn to become more cunning, and he lied. I knew it. I tried to protect him, warn him, tried to make him understand why his behaviour was not right, but there was a veil about his heart that I could not penetrate. Shame did not make him remorseful or lead him to search his heart.

  There were other incidences of bullying that occurred with Cham, particularly towards some of the bondservant children that lived in the Valley. Cham was always bigger than the other children; even now he stands six foot seven, towering over his father and brothers. There was one child a thin, studious boy Reu, whose mother was a widow under the protection of Methuselach. Noach was kind and gentle towards the lad, which only made Cham jealous, and he tormented the boy when he thought no one was around to hear.

  One day Reu and Cham came running back from playing outside , Reu’s arm was broken and hanging limply at an odd angle. He said that he had fallen out of a tree and at the time everyone accepted the story, but now as I stood before sweet Na’elatama’uk as she sadly bowed her head and hid her eyes from me, I recalled the same posture from that boy and the sly smirk that passed for a split second across Chams face.

  I spent all that niddah thinking about how I could, or if I should speak to Cham. Would that make him angry with Na’elatama? Or should I confer with Noach? In the confines of the boat, if Cham were confronted, would his shame bring about an explosion of anger? Why would he hurt his sweet, young wife who only seemed to want to please him? Have I been blind to what has been before my eyes? It would not be the first time.

  As we women sit through niddah, weaving, talking, enjoying our time of rest I am tormented as I re-examine in my mind the behaviour of the newly weds: every meal time, as they leave to go to their bedchamber, working with the animals, how dismissive Cham is of his young brides attentiveness, how he often fails to respond to her questions or comments, her look of hurt. I have been subconsciously aware that something is not as it should be, and now I must do something about it. But how? Spirit of Jah give me guidance.

  As soon as we are released back into community after niddah, I wait for a moment to approach my son alone. He is cleaning out the stall of the big cats, his favourites. He is stripped to the waist, rhythmically shovelling soiled hay out of their stall as though he is training for battle. His beard is plaited and his hair in cornrows gathered into a bun as he is dripping with sweat. When he hears me approach he casually flicks sweat from his brow and reaches for his garments to cover himself. He does it slowly and indolently, wiping under his arms before he wraps the linen robe around his huge frame, never taking his eyes off me. He is like the big felines that pace behind him. He reaches down and strokes one between her ears. Her purr is deep and resonant.

  Mother? I know that look. Have I done something to disappoint you? How can that be? Here we all are having a fine time together on the high seas. What concerns you and causes you to frown so? Oh don’t worry , even frowning you’re still the most beautiful woman … I was going to say on earth, but …

  I don't really hear what he is saying ,only the snide tone. I realise that anger is constantly burning under his skin like a blacksmiths furnace, easily stoked with a pump of the bellows, the embers never allowed to go out, always simmering.

  No son, I was just wondering if everything was, I …

  I found myself at a loss for words, stuttering and confused. My carefully rehearsed speech disintegrated.

  How are you and Na’elatama’uk … she seems …

  He frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and than he shrugs dismissively,

  Has she complained? I can’t think why she would. Has she said something? No? Everything is fine mother. She’s a child. She’ll learn.

  No, no … I just observe … you can be … just be kind son, we’ve all suffered. Please, just be kind to her. I like her very much. I care about you both. I want you both to be happy, content. She will give you many fine children… we have to look to the future…

  Cham is staring at me, he almost seems to be amused by my incoherence. Then he suddenly leaps forward, laughing and gathers me in a warm embrace, kissing me on the top of my head. He becomes charming Cham, and he can be so charming. If I have painted a picture of him as always sullen and difficult, no, it was not so. He could be loud and boisterous, and funny. He loved to dance and sing. He loved to make people laugh (like you Emzara), but when the black mood came upon him he was unreachable.

  Don’t you worry mother I will make my young bride smile. I promise you.

  Things did seem to improve. The bruises faded. Cham seemed to make a show of being affectionate to Naelatama’uk with small intimacies that sometimes made the rest of us uncomfortable. Cham would catch my eye and laugh as he pulled his shy, embarrassed wife to their bedchamber. Noach never said anything, as far as I know, but he would often frown and sigh , the tension between them was always there. Maybe Noach too was worried about confronting Cham in the confines of the ark, because once we were established on the new earth neither one held back. But at the time Noach's silence only seemed to spur Cham on to tease everyone around him , he could go from sullen and angry to highly amused, as though there was something he knew that no one else did. Maybe there was.

  Naelatama’uk was the first to fall pregnant and started to swell with child, feeling sick and wretched during her first trimester, in our last days on the ark. Cham was delighted that his would be the first child born in the new world.