'Immigrants from Hellas, gotta love 'em. One of them runs a tailor shop. The other day, a landsman of his walks into the shop with a pair of torn trousers. 'Euripides?' 'Yeah. Eumenides?' Sure, have 'em ready tomorrow.' Ba-DUM-pum! Have a good evening folks! Remember to tip your server!'

And Allan the Funnyman ambled offstage to loud applause, leaving Ori and Hani utterly confused by that last joke, since they were angels and multilingual and didn't understand how hilarious it was to mispronounce other people's languages.

'At least the audience is in a good mood now,' Hani whispered to Ori.

If they weren't in a good mood before, the audience was about to be, because the insinuating music began (you can guess the tune) accompanied by rhythmic drumming. Gili came out. She was wearing all seven of her veils, but not for long.

In addition to being a warm and sympathetic human being, Gili was an expert practitioner of what was an ancient art even in Mesopotamia – to wit, Gili was an accomplished ecdysiast. There was nothing indecent or even indecorous about Gili's dance: even when all seven veils had been shed Gili was still quite well-dressed. Nor could the movements themselves be called lewd – at least not to a well-ordered mind. Even Jonah, whose mind could hardly have been called well-ordered, found nothing objectionable as he watched from the wings. Gili danced beautifully, as she always did, and the audience hummed and clapped along with the band. Lots of customers tossed coins into the basket Gili's assistant passed around.

'You know what I like best about this dance?' said Hani, only he pronounced it 'daynce'. 'It doesn't have any bad puns in it.' Ori agreed, and slipped over to the counter to order some sunflower seeds.

For her closing number, Gili sang.

There's a place you go

When the water's getting low,

And you dance for the god

Like the people in Akkad.

And you really shake your booty

As you call to Nudimmudi,

If you sing real good

You might get a big carp flood!

The audience applauded enthusiastically when Gili was finished. The graceful dancer went off with a smile and the emcee announced, 'And now for our special guest! Jonah and his whale of a tale!'

Applause was polite – the audience was still in a good mood – but tentative. Jonah was obviously going to have to win them over. Ori, who had never known Jonah to be particularly winning with people, was a bit worried as Jonah walked out. The prophet-on-a-mission didn't so much 'take' the stage as venture onto it as onto unknown territory. He stood there hesitantly.

'Er, er, er…' Jonah started. He stopped, cleared his throat. Then he looked with desperation and panic in his eyes. He turned as if to leave the stage – but an urgent whisper from the wings made him reconsider.

Ori groaned. Hani said, 'Well, what do you know? A prophet with stage fright. Now I've seen it all.' Again that offstage whisper. Who is coaching him now? wondered Ori.

'The word of The LORD came to me, Jonah, son of Amittai, saying, arise, go…to…' He trailed off and stopped, staring straight ahead. 'Go…to… you know what? I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here.'

There was murmuring in the audience. Then applause as Gili walked out of the wings. With her were a couple of stagehands bearing stools. They set the stools down and left the stage. Gili perched gracefully on one and patted the other, invitingly.

'Sit,' she said to Jonah. Jonah sat. The dumbfounded prophet looked at the dancer, mesmerised. The audience grew quiet again.

'Tell us what your god told you,' Gili said. Ori and Hani held their breaths. 'Don't mess this up now,' whispered Hani. 'She's handed it to you on a plate.'

Jonah looked at Gili. He looked out into the hall. He sighed. 'I used to think I knew what The LORD was saying,' he confessed. 'But now, I'm not so sure. '

Gili patted his knee. 'That happens to us all now and again. The trick is to keep asking questions until it comes clear. What is the first thing He told you?'

Jonah took a deep breath. 'Well, you see, it all started when I was a teenager…'

Gili and the audience paid perfect attention while Jonah unfolded the tale of his mental journey – from wild teenager to awestruck ufologist to self-righteous (he now admitted) theology student to panic-stricken fugitive from supernatural command to unwilling submariner.

'…and if the Mediterranean were any deeper, I'd be dead by now,' concluded Jonah. 'Fortunately, the whale got a bellyache and, er, barfed me up on shore…'

Ori clapped a hand over Hani's mouth to stop the inevitable guffaw.

'…and some wonderful and patient people took me with them on their journey, and here I am.' Jonah looked around in mute appeal as the audience let out a collective sigh and then burst into spontaneous applause. Gili patted Jonah's knee.

Ori called out. 'That's a great story, Jonah!' More applause.

'The book will be a best-seller,' chuckled Hani. Ori made shushing gestures.

'But what do we need to DO?' yelled somebody from the crowd. 'You said Nineveh was in danger of destruction!'

'It is!' said Jonah. 'Look around you! Can't you see it? Your infrastructure is crumbling! Everything is falling apart because nothing is ever repaired. Your officials take bribes and dispense favours to the highest bidder. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. People with public jobs are completely incompetent. Education is practically nonexistent. People are suffering.' Agitated, the prophet paced up and down on the stage. 'I think I've finally understood what The LORD's been trying to tell me all this time!'

Oh, blessed melodic development, thought Ori. I think he actually has.

'We need to fix things up and help each other!' Jonah said. There were murmurs of agreement. 'The problem is that everybody's been sitting around waiting for someone else to start. So far, nothing's happened.'

'You see,' said Jonah, 'it's like this everywhere. Selfish people are enthusiastic – about their big plans. About what they want to do for themselves. Everybody can see the harm they do. And everybody knows they ought to do better. But when it comes to actually doing it, they just…'

'…sit on their hands!' yelled somebody in the audience. There were murmurs of agreement.

Nisaba stood up. 'You're right there. We've gotta start somewhere. Let's start with Iaba's allotment. The City Council took away her husband's garden plot because some rich guy wanted it.'

Ori remembered the widow who had left the Council chamber crying.

'I have an idea,' Nisaba said. 'Whoever can help, come to my place tomorrow morning. Bring tools. You know that old vacant lot at the end of my street? We're going to turn it into a neighbourhood garden.'

'Won't the government object?' somebody asked. Nisaba shrugged. 'Let 'em try!' There were more affirmative noises from the crowd.

'This is promising,' Ori started to say to Hani, but when Ori turned around, Hani wasn't there. Ori finally spotted the jocular angel on the other side of the room, in conversation with some Ninevites Ori had never seen before. Whatever Hani was saying, they seemed to like it: there were nods of approval and the occasional grin.

Something Jonah and Nisaba had said seemed to have inspired the crowd. Suddenly, nobody was looking at the stage anymore. Instead, people were breaking up into separate groups engaged in animated conversation. Passing among them on the way to the stage, Ori overheard snatches of talk.

'There are lots of vacant places around town where we could plant vegetables…'

'My cousin's an irrigation expert. He's been out of work since he had that accident. He could help us…'

'I know at least three scribes in this section of town we could get to start a school…'

'Look, I know the aldermen's elections are rigged, but here's what we could do…'

Onstage, Gili and Jonah sat in earnest conversation, heads together, as oblivious to the crowd as the crowd was to them. What in the world has happened here? thought Ori.

'There's more than one way to reorient a human,' said Hani in Ori's ear. Ori jumped – Hani had a way of sneaking up on you – and then laughed.

'Hey, Jonah and Gili!' Hani said. 'Y'all want to come back to Nisaba's with us? We've got some more planning to do.'

Jonah blushed. 'Er, you two go on ahead. Gili has, er, promised to show me the Tigris by moonlight. It's a very special sight.'

Hani laughed. 'I can imagine it is. You two kids have a good time.'

The crowd at the Fish-in-House broke up into smaller groups and headed out into the night. Some were headed, like Ori and Hani, to Nisaba's hotel to continue the discussion. Others were headed home. A few, like Gili and Jonah, perambulated to more romantic spots. As knots of folk with torches wound their way through the crooked streets of Nineveh, somebody started a song, and the others took it up.

There's a place you go

When the water's getting low,

And you dance for the god

Like the people in Akkad.

And you really shake your booty

As you call to Nudimmudi,

If you sing real good

You might get a big carp flood!

Ori made a sound between a sigh and a chuckle. 'Hani, I think there's a renaissance starting tonight.'

Hani laughed. 'Maybe it's an 'enlightenment'. You never know.'

Ori looked up at the stars. 'Did we do this? I don't remember doing anything in particular. Or was it Prajapati? Or Jonah? Or Gili?'

Hani shrugged. 'Maybe it took all of us together. Who knows? Let's see what develops.' On a sudden impulse, Hani sprouted wings. 'Tell you what: once around the town before we turn in? I'll race you!'

'As long as it doesn't take us three days!' laughed Ori. The two of them flew off in the general direction of the river.

Jonah and Gili were right: the Tigris was really nice by moonlight.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

10.07.23 Front Page

Back Issue Page