| The Scavenger A Story of Ancient Sumeria by James W. Bell © 2001 |
| “He’s back again,” the watch officer informed the City Inspector. “By the gods!” Zilat-Shamash spat and went to the battlement to look down at the trash heap at the foot of the city wall. The man was there, on the heap, dressed in filthy rags, rummaging about through garbage pitched down from the wall earlier in the morning. A donkey - his presumably - was tethered at the bottom of the tell, with a double pannier of braided reed slung over its back. Zilat could see the basket on the near side was partially filled. “Who is he?” he asked the watch officer. “Don’t know. I’ve seen him often. Never met him. Too disgusting. People throw out everything with their garbage. It’s a filthy business, you know - ” “I know, you don’t need tell me.” Zilat paced back and forth on the promenade, then stopped to peer over the mud brick battlement again. He mused a moment. “What in kur does he look for? What’s that he’s pulling out now?” “My lord, my eyesight - ” “Yes, yes, we all have problems.” The city inspector sighed and leaned over the battlement. He called down to the man in rags, “Hey, you, down there!” The man seemed to pay no attention. He didn’t even look up. Instead, he edged away, moving further down the side of the tell. “Hey, down there, I’m talking to you!” Again, the man didn’t respond. He moved down the mound a little farther. Zilat reared back and tromped over to the officer. “That man down there is ignoring me! Me, a city official. I want you to go down and arrest him.” “Me arrest him?” “That’s right, officer. Get down there and arrest him.” “But – but I’m the city watch officer.” “That’s why I’m talking to you.” “My Lord, my jurisdiction extends only to the city wall. I mean, outside – ” “Don’t quibble with me. I want that man out there arrested. You’re the only officer around. That means it’s your job. Or would you rather be replaced?” “My lord. I was only making certain that I didn’t overstep my – ” “You’re not, officer, I assure you. Now, hop to it! Go arrest that man and bring him to the temple courtyard. I’ll notify the High Priestess you’re coming.” * * * Zilat-Shamash was in the temple courtyard with Shatatna, High Priestess of the Inanna Temple, when the watch officer arrived with the scavenger in tow. The man was protesting. “You rushed me so that I left my donkey behind! He’s still out there, tethered outside the city wall where anyone can steal him.” The High Priestess stepped forward to meet them. “Is what this man says true?” she asked the watch officer. When the officer nodded, she told him, “Go, fetch his donkey and bring it here for safekeeping.” “You’d better be careful with my donkey,” the scavenger warned the officer. “I’ve trained him to bite.” “He bites?” “It was necessary,” the man in rags replied. “Scavenging is a lonely business. For my donkey’s own protection, I taught him to bite.” Zilat-Shamash came up. “Go, do as the High Priestess wishes,” he told the officer. “Do it carefully.” Then he turned to the man in rags. “Who are you?” “My name, sir, is Sheranlu.” “Are you not aware beggars are not allowed?” “I am not a beggar, sir,” the man replied. “I have begged nothing. I am a scavenger.” “Ah, I find scavengers as bad as beggars.” “Are you claiming,” Sheranlu asked, “that gleaners are beggars?” “Gleaners don’t do their harvesting in the city,” came Zilat’s curt reply. “There, you have it, sir,” Sheranlu responded. “I wasn’t in the city. I was scavenging on the garbage heap that lays outside the wall, working on the outward slope.” Shatatna intervened. “Haven’t I seen you before?” she asked the man in rags. “Here in the city?” “My Lady, you have a sharp eye,” the scavenger responded. “Indeed, you have seen me within these walls, and when I was properly dressed. I have come to the temple occasionally when you have served as High Priestess.” She smiled. “I thought so. I think, Zilat-Shamash, that I will ask for a trial for this man.” “You mean for this beggar?” Zilat asked. She raised an eyebrow. “It is my right of decision. I am empowered by the goddess herself to protect her devotees. You have had this man arrested. But the question in my mind is, has he done anything against the law? Have the city elders summoned to the courtyard, Zilat-Shamash. Let them stand beside the gate so they can hear the arguments and judge. We will have a trial for this man.” “But I have already charged him,” Zilat said. “Good. Then you can be his accuser at his trial and I will serve as his defender. Now, go. Have the elders summoned so we may start the trial.” * * * When the old men of the city had been gathered at the courtyard gate, Zilat-Shamash turned to the High Priestess. “My Lady, the city elders are here. We are ready to commence if you insist.” “I do insist,” Shatatna said. She turned to the scavenger. “Step forward, Sheranlu, and speak to the city elders. Tell them about yourself.” The man in rags faced the old men. “I am Sheranlu,” he said. “I have a hut upwater on the Gibil Canal where I live with my wife and two children. We have a few date palms and a shade garden underneath where I grow some vegetables. I scavenge to make extra money in hopes I can send my son to scribal school, but I seldom come within the city walls of Zabalam except to make contributions to the Inanna Temple. “I was scavenging on the garbage heap outside the East Wall this morning when my lord had the city watch officer come down off the wall and arrest me. When I asked him why, he said it was because I was a beggar. I am not a beggar! I have begged from no one. And I swear I have broken no law. I appeal to you, let me go free.” When he finished, the scavenger turned and looked to the High Priestess. “Thank you,” Shatatna said. “Now, Zilat-Shamash, since you are the accuser, it is your turn to explain to the elders why you had Sheranlu arrested.” Zilat walked towards the gate and positioned himself squarely before the old men. “Look at this pitiful man,” he pointed at Sheranlu, “clothed in filthy rags. I was with the city watch officer on the East Wall when he appeared on the garbage heap outside. I called down to him so I could speak to him, but he ignored me and hurried away. I called a second time with the same result. I thought his actions suspicious. Note his filthy rags. This is the way he was clothed. There was a donkey tethered nearby. I ask you, how likely is it that such an impoverished man as this can be the owner of a valuable donkey? Look at him, grandfathers—a man in rags, probably a beggar, maybe a thief. You know the value of keeping our city safe from beggars. I ask you to declare this man to be an undesirable and to send him far away.” When Zilat quit, the High Priestess asked, “Have you finished?” Zilat nodded. “Have you no questions to ask the scavenger?” Zilat shook his head and so she took his place before the elders. “This man you see before you, dressed in rags, has been thought by Zilat-Shamash, our City Inspector, to be a beggar and possibly a thief – all without so much as asking him one single question. I ask you, grandfathers, how valid is an accusation like this?” There was a murmur among the elders. Zilat-Shamash interrupted. “I tried to talk to him. I called to him from the wall twice, but he ignored me both times.” “If you please,” Shatatna told Zilat, “it is my turn to present the defense.” She beckoned to an acolyte and whispered something in his ear before sending him off. Then she addressed the accused. “Sheranlu, you say you are a scavenger. Tell us a little about your scavenging. Where do you scavenge and what do you scavenge for?” “My Lady, I scavenge only in the refuse heaps that lay outside Zabalam’s city walls where the garbage and broken things people no longer want are thrown. I search the heaps for items that, while no longer of value to their owners, might be of some value to others. I also search for scarce materials such as copper twists and obsidian flakes that may be recovered and reused.” “The items you recover, Sheranlu, what do you do with them? Do you sell them back to the people of Zabalam?” “Oh, no, my Lady. They would have little value until they were reworked. I am a trader, a member of the Karum. The items I glean from the refuse heaps I sort and sell to the Karum, except for obsidian flakes and scraps of bitumen. Those items I sell to Magir-Sin so he can mount them in new sickles or razors.” “Sheranlu, you say you are a trader, but today you are dressed in rags like a beggar. How do you explain your bedraggled appearance?” “My Lady, there is only so much garbage, so much trash. If I dressed in a tunic of bleached linen to scavenge outside your city walls, people would see me and assume I was making my fortune scavenging through your garbage. They would come down to scavenge too. There’s not enough for more than one of us. As it is, when they see me dressed in rags like this, their only thought is to stay away from me.” “When I spoke to you earlier, Sheranlu, you mentioned that you attended the temple from time to time. Was that a true statement?” “Indeed, my Lady, I have attended. And contributed.” “Contributed? Do you remember how much?” “I keep count which can be verified with your scribe of record. So far this year, I have given four and a half shekels of silver. Last year, I was able to give a full ten shekels of silver. Your scribe will show that on his records.” “Ten shekels of silver,” the High Priestess repeated in a loud voice. “This man who lives outside our city walls comes in our city to contribute ten shekels of silver to our temple. Our average citizen makes only twenty shekels of silver all year, so his contribution is half the income of our average citizen, five times the average tithe.” “But he looks so despicable!” Zilat-Shamash interjected. “So he does. Granted that he dresses as if he’s impoverished when he works the garbage heap, but I ask you, does the farmer wear his festival best while he plows his field? Or does the digger in the claypit don his linen tunic to dig? Does the brickmaker wear his sandals to trod straw in the mud? I ask you, shall we declare this man a beggar because of appearance when he works? Shall we call him an undesirable because of occupation? Shall we exile him for his contribution to the temple?” “No, no,” the elders chanted. “Wait a minute!” Zilat-Shamash said. “When the watch officer and I saw this man below the city wall, I called down to him. Twice. He ignored my calls both times. In fact, he moved away from the wall, down the tell, away from us. Shall we welcome to our city a man who will not respond to the summons of a city official? I say, No.” The High Priestess responded. “Again, grandfathers, the accuser has accused without asking the accused even the simplest of questions. It is one thing to answer the call of a city officer who comes to the door of your house and knocks and waits for you to answer so you can hear him. It is something else to respond when absorbed in ferreting items out of a garbage heap on the side of a tell beneath a city wall. Tell me, Sheranlu, why did you not respond to Zilat-Shamash’s call?” “My Lady, I did not hear him.” “Did you move away as your accuser said?” “Not intentionally, my Lady. When I scavenge, I start at the top of the heap and work my way down. I may have moved further down the tell, farther away from the wall. That is altogether likely.” “But you say you did not hear the call?” “No, my Lady. I was concentrating on my job. I was not aware of their presence up on the wall until the watch officer came down and grabbed me by the arm.” Zilat-Shamash scoffed. “A likely story! Surely, grandfathers, you will not believe something like this.” The High Priestess smiled and walked up to him. “My Lord,” she said in a loud voice, “if you will be quiet for a moment, I think you will hear your name being called.” Zilat stopped speaking and the courtyard grew silent. From the top of the wall came the call, “Zilat-Shamash. Zilat-Shamash.” He looked up and saw atop the wall the acolyte Shatatna had so recently coached. “Well, my Lord?” the High Priestess asked. “You’ve tricked me!” “What trickery, My Lord? Where was the trick? Now that you’re paying attention, you can hear your name being called. But, when you were concentrating on the work at hand, you were oblivious to it. As was the accused this morning. “Grandfathers,” she turned and addressed the city elders, “I ask you to decide in favor of Sheranlu – this man in rags who stands before you. However much you may dislike the rags he is wearing, this is what he wears when he works. Is it any worse than the scanty loincloths diggers wear when toiling in the claypits? “Has he not proved his mettle by not coming into our city when so ill dressed? He is here before you today in rags only because he was arrested and dragged into the city against his will. Had he come of his own will at a time of his choosing, he would have come properly dressed, as he has in the past. “And has he not further proved his worth by contributing so generously to the Temple of Inanna. Will you call this man who gives five times the standard tithe an undesirable and send him on his way, perhaps to the benefit of some other city?” “No, no,” the elders responded. “Free the man,” one voice called out. “Let him return to his work,” another said. “So say you all?” Shatatna asked. “Are there any to speak otherwise?” No voice was raised. “Then, I declare that the charges against this man, Sheranlu, are dismissed and he is set free to continue his work,” she said. “So be it.” Sheranlu paused to thank the goddess. “A thousand thank yous, my Lady,” he told her. Then he turned and went to retrieve his donkey. As the elders dispersed out the courtyard gate, Zilat-Shamash approached the High Priestess. “I guess you’ll tell the goddess what’s happened and have her reprimand me.” “Not at all, Zilat-Shamash. You’ve done the task the city hired you to do and you’ve done it properly. You were perhaps a little testy this morning, overbearing and too hasty in your accusation, but that’s why Inanna keeps her temple here. Besides, the city needs someone like you around to keep a sharp eye on things.” “I don’t understand,” Zilat said and scratched his head. “Sometimes I wonder about the gods.” Shatatna nodded. “Sometimes I wonder about them too.” The End |
| In Ancient Sumer, with no resources except bitumen, sand, reeds and - in some places - water, nothing of use was thrown away except through carelessness. From earliest days, there had been scavengers, grown men, who searched heaps of garbage thrown outside city walls looking for such windfalls. |