Did drunken gods really create the first human?

When the world was first created, each god had a specific job to help maintain the land. But being fresh off the boat of creation, the gods were not used to hard labor; so, like any adolescent god, they complained, demanding help. 

Tired of hearing the constant whining, one day the water goddess Nammu, birth mother of heaven and earth, decided to create man to help care for the land. She assigned Enki—the patron of all arts, crafts, wisdom and magic, and Ninmah—the Great Mother goddess and Enki´s feisty lover—the creation task. 

But like happens with teenagers, the two creator gods got drunk before beginning the job.  The idea was that Ninmah was to create beings out of clay, while Enki found a role for each creation. Imagine doing surgery while drunk.  Well, the first creation was completely un-viable, unable to stand or feed itself, and had to be held in Ninmah’s lap. 

And thus, by the hands of drunken gods, was born the first human infant.

A modern storytellers version of the Sumerian creation myth
(Remember, the Sumerians were one of the earliest urban societies to emerge on our planet.)

How Satan created Ethiopia's Crater Lake.

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On the way back to Addis Ababa from Ethiopia's Omo region, I wanted to stop at a crater lake I had heard about. While it is suppose to be a tourist destination, we passed the small rusty directional sign along the road several times, before finding the correct little road to the lake.

This emerald-green lake is in a deep crater about the depth of a 35 story skyscraper from the crater edge. I have no idea how deep it might be and a local told me it is deadly to throw a rock into the lake.

This panoramic photograph makes the lake look so small. But, in fact, you could put a 35-story skyscraper on the water surface and it would barely reach the height of the rim.

Actually, the local man—who walked from his nearby field of maze—told me that this scenic crater lake is an evil place. In fact, the lake’s name, Ara Shetan literally means “Lake of Satan”. 
 

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Many years ago, it seems that an evil sorcerer, who had fought with local peasants, was finally mortally wounded. He fell at the exact spot of the lake. With his last bit of energy as he was dying, he drove his spear into the ground, yelling a curse something like “let this be the devil’s home.” Suddenly, the earth below the dying Satan imploded, swallowed him up and the hole filled with a greenish water.

"Be careful. Don't throw a rock into the lake," my self-appointed guide told me.  It seems that the lake’s Satan will hurl the rock back with incredible intensity, killing the stone thrower.  

While today's geologists might have a different explanation for the lake's formation—something about shifting faults causing the hole—I decided it prudent not to throw any rocks into the lake.

Why Native Americans today cannot look at Oregon's Crater Lake.

Sunset light falls on Crater Lake in southern Oregon.

The Klamath Indians have this story about Oregon's Crater Lake:

A band of Indians were returning from a hunting trip and went up a mountain. At the top of the mountain they looked into its crater and saw a most beautiful blue lake -- bluer than the skies above it. They were awed by the intensity of the blue depths and by the smoking island in the lake. They were sure it was the home of Llaos, the Great Spirit.

Feeling that they had invaded forbidden ground, they quickly retreated down the slope and made camp for the night at a fitting distance away.

But one of the Indian braves could not forget the beautiful sight. He could not resist going back to stand on the rim and gaze at it. When he came away he felt much stronger. He went again and came away stronger and more powerful. After a third visit he grew daring and decided to go down the steep side of the crater. He bathed in the beautiful blue waters. After this he was the strongest and most skillful warrior of the tribe.

Imagine the Native American diving into Crater Lake and becoming a better hunter. Then one Indian ruined the lake's magic powers.

Other Indians wanted to do as he had done. So they also looked at the lake and bathed in its waters and each one came away more powerful than he had been before. They were better hunters, faster runners, more sure of their skills.

But one day, for some unknown reason, one Indian brave, when he was bathing in the lake, killed one of the creatures that lived in the water. Suddenly hundreds of the lake creatures, or Llaos, came from the water, rushed after the warrior and killed him. This ended the spell for all Indians, and they now knew that they could no longer go to the lake.

The fathers told their sons, and those sons told their sons that "death will come to any Indian who even dares to gaze upon the blue waters of Llaos Mountain."

This story taken from the Oregon Blue Book.

Oregon's Crater Lake under the magic spell of winter.

Did we (modern man) or Neanderthals create the first religion (myths) trying to answer life's big questions?

Could this be what the dawn of man looked like? On my research trip this year, I took this photograph of a sunrise over the remote Mursi tribal village of Belle in Ethiopia's Omo region. During my stay in this village, I imagined that our modern man ancestors lived like this before a few walked out of Africa to populate our planet.

In 1856, in a cave in Germany's Neander Valley, Neanderthals were the first hominid ancestor to be discovered.

Comparison of the DNA of Neanderthals and Homo sapiens suggests that they diverged from a common ancestor, probably Homo heidelbergensis, who originated between 800,000 and 1,300,000 years ago. This evolutionary ancestor continued living in Africa, Europe and Western Asia until they vanished about 200,000 years ago.

Then, for some unexplained reason, between 350,000 and 400,000 years ago the African branch is thought to have started evolving towards modern humans and the Eurasian branch towards Neanderthals.

About 50,000 to 60,000 years ago modern man walked out of Africa to eventually populate our planet, according to Mitochondrial DNA. DNA also tells us that modern man and Neanderthals mixed.

In all of this evolutionary history, which of our ancestral storytellers tried to answer our mysterious big questions of life on earth?  Who created the first myth?

Was it Neanderthals or us modern Homo sapiens who first began asking about the creation of earth, and the creation of man? 

And what about archetypal dreams?

Are you too pulled by an inner sacred restlessness?

Entrance to ancient Roman Catholic Church in the tiny village of Cizhong, Yunnan province, China.

When people ask what draws me to places like remote African villages, tiny towns perched on Himalayan ledges or vineyards in dusty corners of China, I think of Siddhartha Gautama.

Siddhartha grew up sheltered behind walls of wealth and power. As a prince, he was shielded from any knowledge of  human suffering and religion.

But something happened at age 29. The Prince peeked over the garden walls of his compound to see the poor, the sick, the dying, all the human suffering outside of his walls; and he saw monks. He left to seek.

What was that restlessness that pulled Siddhartha away from a luxury life at home?   

Something about Tibetan Buddhism elicits a strong familiar attraction for me. Like a magnet, the Feilai Buddhist Temple, about 10 km from Deqen, pulled me in. Deqin County, Yunnan province, China.

 

A woman with her traditional apron spins the prayer wheels at the Feilai Tibetan Buddhist Temple near Deqen, Deqin County Yunnan province, China.

Likewise, I'm restless. Something seems hidden. I need to go out to find it.  My journeys too are born of an inner sacred restlessness.

The ancient Catholic church stands out in the tiny village of Cizhong, Yunnan province, China. And yes, those are Cabernet Sauvignon vineyards in the foreground.

Here I am searching for spiritual threads among the Mursi tribe in the Omo region of Ethiopia. Honestly, I don't see the big picture of why I'm there. I just trust, knowing prayer and meditation led me there.

On this journey, I look in every corner without prejudice or preconceptions. Sometimes when I tell Christian friends the kind of things I experience, they worry. Don't worry, Christ is still my guiding light. This is the most powerful Himba shaman (witch doctor) in the Epupa Falls area going into a trance in Namibia, Africa. He told me that I would find a secret.

Did I walk out of this Ethiopian village 60,000 years ago?

Sunrise on Busso village, Konso tribe, Omo region, Ethiopia.

On my first trip to the Omo region in Ethiopia, my guide, driver and I spent several days interviewing the Konso tribal elders for the First Stories Project. 

On the first morning in the area, I took an exploratory walk just before dawn. A couple of miles out, I saw the village of Busso.  Something made my heart sing. It was like a full-production Sound of Music moment.

Morning walks in the Konso area were pure magic.

I couldn't explain it. There were strong inklings like I've been here before. Was it in some ancient past life?
  
But there was something more. Was it the surrounding steep mountains that reminded me of the Himalayas I loved? Was it the wonderful sunrise light? Or did it just look like the picture-perfect African village I was hoping to see? 

A walking stick awaits the traveler at sunrise near Busso Village, Konso tribe, Omo region, Ethiopia.

 
Or, was I actually hearing some DNA-deep feeling that this was near the spot where we as modern man left to populate our planet? DNA tells us that some of us stayed, some of us walked out from Africa. Had I lived here some 60,000 years ago? 

Did I walk out to explore the world or stay?


Now 12 years later, I still can't really explain why my heart sang when I first saw Busso village in the Konso area. And it happens every time I revisit.

Even after many trips to Busso over the years, I still love wandering through the village.

Are you a human making a spiritual journey or spiritual being making a human journey?

“We had thought that we were human beings making a spiritual journey; it may be truer to say that we are spiritual beings making a human journey.” So wrote the French philosopher, Jesuit priest, geologist, paleontologist and one of the discoverers of Peking Man, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.

In January of this year I journeyed to the Mursi tribe in Ethiopia's remote Omo region to learn about their view of the spiritual world. Looking at this photograph is like looking into a mirror at my own life. It reminds me that the Mursi in Belle village spent their days as I do most of mine, a mere human existing in the day to day.

"That's god. That's Mursi god," was what the oldest Mursi elder in Belle village said when I showed him an image I had drawn from descriptions given by other Mursi elders on previous trips. His reaction was immediate. No hesitation.

So which are you, a human or spiritual being on an earthly journey?

First Story Project: I faced a drunk, agitated, gun-totting Mursi who wanted money.

Mursi warrior with the ubiquitous AK 47 and wooden stool, Omo region, Ethiopia. Note the scarification on his arm. The Ethiopian government tried to outlaw scarification as it could be a badge of honor showing how many people from another tribe he has killed.

You might have read: the Mursi tribe is the fiercest of Ethiopia’s Omo tribes. I’ve heard some tourists are afraid to visit them, or stay only for a short time. I simply wanted to confirm the myths, stories and archetypal dreams I heard from elders, shamans, chiefs, witchdoctors and storytellers on previous visits to the tribe.

On this trip I decided to stay in remote Belle Village, which had a huge picture-perfect mountain in the background.  Then came lengthy discussions—sometimes not so friendly, to negotiate a camping fee for our week’s stay for my guide, driver and me.

Mursi tribe Belle village in Mago National Park, Omo region, Ethiopia.

Everything was going great. But toward the end of our time in the village, the Mursi—men and women—started drinking village-made spirits. In the morning the would-be chief staggered over to demand I pay more, five times more than what we had agreed upon. Naturally, I smiled, told him what a great chief he was and replied, “No.”

The next night the Mursi were drinking again and making lots of noise. Not able to sleep, I worried what would happen in the morning when we were scheduled to leave. All these drunken Mursi carried loaded AK47s. And they wanted more money.

After we packed our camping gear in the morning, I told the belligerent chief that I would pay him away from the village, about 100 meters down the dusty road. I didn't want intoxicated gun-toting Mursi warriors becoming agitated for any reason. 

Frankly. I was a bit surprised that the usually arguementative chief agreed.

As I watched Andu, my guide, lead the wobbling chief down the trail away from the camp, I thought to myself, "Paying the unarmed chief alone, away from the others, is probably the best decision I've made today."

My guide Andu leads the the drunk chief alone out of the village as I had asked. I didn't want a bunch of  drunk gun-toting warriors becoming agitated when I paid the money we had agreed upon.

When I handed the money to the chief, he was too inebriated to count the the stack of dirty and torn birr notes. Having no one else, he asked my guide in the back seat to count the payment. Obviously he didn't really trust my guide either.

What happened when I gave cameras to remote tribes

For my First Stories (Undiscovered Myths) Project, I live with and study the Myths and Archetypal Dreams of Africa's most remote tribes, including the Mursi.

Since tourists flock to Ethiopia's remote Omo region to photograph the Tribes people, especially the Mursi women with the lip plates, I thought it would be fun to give Nikon cameras to the Mursi. My original idea was for the Mursi to photograph tourists as they photographed the Mursi, like everyone looking in a photographic mirror. Unfortunately, no tourists came to Belle, the remote village where I chose to live for a week in January of this year.

So what subjects did the Mursi--who are considered by far the most fierce of the Omo tribes—photograph for the first time in their lives? Well, duh, they photographed each other. 

Actually, the very first subject was me while taking a photograph of the first Mursi photographers. This was the first time they had ever held a camera.

Even the elders got into taking photographs. It did take this guy 3 snaps before he figured out he had to take his finger off the front of the lens.

No one did a selfie.

My personal Mursi guard, Mamoosh, became very popular with the ladies when he had the camera. 

My guide Andu, said that he had never seen the Mursi so "calm" as during our visit. Usually, the Mursi—the fiercest of the Omo tribes—are constantly agitating for something, like money.