Ori and the others took a stroll around Halab. The streets weren't crowded. What people they saw seemed to be listless. It was as if everyone had lost the will to do much of anything: their motivation was missing. The kids, however, were enjoying themselves. Everywhere they went, they saw cats. The cats seemed happy and well-fed.

Cats sunning themselves. Cats washing themselves. Cats grooming each other. Cats purring. Halab is cat heaven, thought Ori. Ori also noticed that no matter how uninvolved the locals were in their surroundings, they still found enough energy to feed and pet the cats.

Zena whispered to Ori, 'Look! I think I've found the Chief Cat Carer.' Ori looked. There was an older man sitting in the archway between two houses. He had a cat on his shoulder, a lapful of kittens, and cats milling around him, brushing against his ankles and purring loudly. Ori smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Introductions were made. The cat man, whose name was Lusua, explained that cats were almost universally beloved in Halab. They kept mice and rats out of the grain and away from the houses. Besides, what was not to like about cats? They were beautiful and friendly. As they talked, a few people came by with gifts of food for the cats. Some children stopped to play with the cats – some brought homemade cat toys. Others stayed to help tidy up Lusua's courtyard and fill water dishes.

'Sometimes people around here don't like each other very much,' said one boy truthfully. 'But everybody likes cats.' Everyone seemed to like Lusua the cat man, too. Oddly, these people who wouldn't give their neighbour the time of day – and couldn't be motivated to carry on business if they weren't allowed to cheat – would voluntarily contribute to the welfare of kitties.

That gives me an idea…' said Ori. 'Come close, let's have a huddle.' Zena, Habik, and Agad joined Ori for a confab. So did some of the local kids.

Jonah kept his distance, saying something about cats not being in Scripture, and besides, being worshipped idolatrously in Egypt, wherever that was. The kids ignored him: they were used to him by now.

The sudden lack of ambition on the part of the grownups of Halab had puzzled the kids. No adult had the urge to make breakfast, although most of them woke up hungry. Kids all over town made the family breakfast. New taste sensations were discovered. A few fires broke out but were easily put out in such a dusty city. After the kids had made breakfast, milked the complaining goats, tidied the kitchen and fetched the water, they were, frankly, at loose ends.

Nobody made them go to school and learn to read and write on clay.

Nobody made them open the shop and sweep the floors.

Nobody sent them for water or dung for fuel or told them to fetch anything from the market or go check on Aunt Mupallidat. In fact, nobody seemed to care what they did. Deprived of the impetus of avarice, drive for power, or simple malice, the grownups of Halab couldn't figure out what to do with themselves. Most of them were just sitting around their courtyards watching the shadows migrate across the walls.

So the kids entertained themselves. They also gravitated to the only adults in the city who seemed to be doing anything interesting – Lusua the cat man and whoever happened along to help him.

And then there were the visitors. There was a strange man who kept babbling on about something in a foreign language. The kids found him extremely entertaining at first. After a while, not being able to understand him got frustrating. The bigger kids hit upon the idea of trying to teach him the local language. As it turned out, the strange man (whose name was Jonah) was so frustrated himself that he was ready to learn. Sumerian lessons commenced.

Sign language was employed. And drawing in the sand. And acting-things-out, which led to much hilarity. And whole groups of kids saying things like 'The fox, having peed into the sea, said, The whole sea is my pee,' clearly, distinctly, and in chorus, with exaggerated mouth movements.

For such a closed-minded individual, Jonah was a fast learner and a surprisingly good mimic. The kids were enjoying themselves – finally, an adult with some motivation left.

Ori and Zena sent Habik and Agad to go and find the others from their party. This was not as hard to do as it might have seemed because the Akkadians were actually moving rather than staring into space. Ori introduced the adult Akkadians to Lusua the cat man and put them all to work.

The kids had a different task, one which made them giggle.

The cats followed whichever group they found most interesting.

All in all, it was a busy day in Halab – at least, for those whose get-up-and-go hadn't got-up-and-gone.

By evening, things were ready. Kids had been sent out to announce that an entertainment would be held in the open square near Lusua the cat man's place. And that there would be food.

People stirred from their torpor at the words 'entertainment'. When they heard 'food', they actually got up and followed the kids. Some of the more active actually thought to comb their hair first.

The square was lit by torches and the fading glow of the setting sun. A stage had been erected in the open space. As people sat down in groups, the Akkadians, their new local friends, and groups of kids went around passing out rounds of fresh-baked leek-and-onion bread stuffed with grilled vegetables and fresh garlic sauce made from the milk of all those goats the kids had been tending.

'Oh. Dear. Enlil,' said one woman, who hadn't eaten since breakfast. 'This food is fit for the gods!' Others murmured agreement, but their mouths were too full to say anything.

'Thanks, Mama,' said her son, who had been handing out the bread. 'I followed Grandma's recipe.' His mother looked at him with new eyes.

People were perking up. People were getting full. After the meal the kids passed out beer and snacks, such as sunflower seeds. People munched and chatted. Cats picked their way through the crowds, generously allowing themselves to be petted, and head-bumping those who failed to pay attention.

It had gone dark by this time. The kids picked up the torches and set them in stands around the stage, making an illuminated space. From behind a colourful backdrop (painted that afternoon) came exquisite sounds – Zena had organised the band. Ori came out and bowed.

'Friends of Halab! Tonight, the children of Halab…and the cats of Halab are here to entertain you. We have songs, dances, stories…and…what is it?' Ori stopped because a girl was tugging at the angel's robe. Ori bent down, the girl whispered. Ori nodded and walked away with a smile and the universal hand-gesture signal that said, 'The stage is yours.'

'Ahem,' said the girl, whose name was Semiramis. 'Before we get to the main event this evening, we want to welcome a special guest. His name is Jonah, and he's come a very long way to be with us. We've spent all day helping him learn the language so that he can tell you his story – and we're going to help him do it. So please give him a warm welcome.'

With that introduction, two teams of children came out on stage. One team, the singers, hummed a happy tune. The other team, the visual-aid chorus, did gestures. In between them walked Jonah, wearing a brand-new tunic the kids had given him. He took a rather stiff bow, and the crowd applauded politely. Jonah looked nervously at Semiramis, who nodded encouragement.

'Now the word of The LORD came to me, Jonah son of Amittai, saying, arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me. But I. Jonah, rose up to flee unto Tarshish from the presence of the LORD…'

As the now-familiar story (to the Akkadians) unfolded, the Halabian children supplied appropriate music and gestures. When Jonah hesitated for a Sumerian word, Semiramis whispered suggestions, and Jonah soon got back on track. Ori was impressed with Jonah's learning curve.

The entire audience was impressed with the story – you could have heard a pin drop in that square. At the appearance of the whale, there was a collective gasp of surprise, largely because some kids linked arms behind one with a whale mask, imitating the animal, while others waved a blue cloth in front, rhythmically, to indicate the waves of the sea.

When the story was finished, there was more applause and not a little muttering among the audience. Apparently some people accepted the whale story, while others insisted that 'things like that don't happen.' At the same time, there were those who were ready to believe that Nineveh was such a den of iniquity that a god might send the city missionaries, while others were more skeptical.

'A god sends an emissary who can't even speak the language? That sounds like poor planning to me,' grumbled someone in the front row.

After Jonah's performance came a brief intermission for more snacks (and bathroom breaks). Then the children sang and danced to old favourites that had the adults singing and clapping along. They also sang Ori's new song about Jonah, much to Jonah's chagrin and everybody else's delight.

Lusua took the stage now and demonstrated some tricks the cats had learned. They walked on rolling barrels. They ran races. They climbed walls and knocked things off ledges to general amusement. One even played a lyre! Some even sang on cue. Judging from the applause, the performing cats were a hit.

The final performance of the evening saw the return of the sound-effects and motions chorus, this time as backup to Zena, who told a story about the goddess Ninsun, 'Lady of the Wild Cows', and her husband, the human king Lugalbanda.

Once upon a time, King Lugalbanda and his wife, the goddess Ninsun, went on a journey. They didn't take anybody with them: no courtiers, no attendants, no servants, not even a coachman or chariot driver. Lugalbanda drove the chariot himself. They traveled into the desert, seeking peace and quiet – and they found it.

Evening came, and Lugalbanda built a fire. Ninsun prepared a meal. After they had eaten, Lugalbanda sighed with contentment as he sat beside the fire and gazed up at the starry night.

'Oh, my wife,' said the king, 'I want for nothing in this moment. I wish I could preserve it for all time – the sweet softness of the smoke that rises, the bright twinkling of the stars in the sky, and the quiet flickering of the fire.'

'You shall have it,' replied the queen.

Ninsun took the smoke in her hand. She reached up and plucked a bright star from the night sky. She passed her palm over the flickering flames.

Ninsun held out her cupped hands to the king. She opened them. Sitting in her palms was a tiny creature – it was soft, with grey fur. It gave a tiny meow.

'Look at this!' exclaimed King Lugalbanda. 'Its fur is grey and soft, like the smoke of the best fire. Its eyes sparkle with the light of the stars. And its tiny tongue darts like the flames of the fire. What a beautiful creature! What is it, my love?'

'It is a cat,' said the goddess queen. 'And I have made it out of love and contentment.'

The audience applauded loudly – which was a good thing because it drowned out the protests of Jonah, who was trying to give everyone a lecture on theology. He was placated with more food and told to sit down.

After the show, the children took the torches, found their families, and led them home, singing softly.

At the last minute, somebody remembered to get Ori and the other guests to the Sign of the Two Lions, where they were given beds for the night.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

15.05.23 Front Page

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