Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

Papyrus

© Jeannie St. John Taylor

“Papyrus paper was not the only use of the flowering fresh-water reed

that grew in great abundance along river banks and in marshes.

There were many things made from this adaptable plant which reached heights of five to nine feet.”

            “This is my favorite kind of weather.” Shem slid off his camel and loosely held the camel’s rope in his open palm as he gazed out over the distant purple mountains. “Slight chill in the air. Blustery wind. I’d forgotten about that amazing view. How long since we’ve been to the marshes on this side of the mountain? It’s impossible to doubt the One True God with a view like that, isn’t it?”

            “You sound like Father.” Ham rolled his eyes and ticked off points on his fingers. “I hate wind. I don’t want to wrestle papyrus reeds today. Snakes skulk in the papyrus.”

Shem chuckled. “Snakes skulk?”

“Alligators do. And you know there are alligators all over the marsh waiting to sidle up and chomp you.” Ham jumped nimbly from his still-standing camel.

Shem blew out an appreciative whistle. “Impressive.” He’d been floating along on a cloud of euphoria ever since God miraculously rescued Father. Even enduring his uncle for the past week hadn’t seemed so bad. Shem knew he’d eventually fret over the urgent need to find a wife again, but not right now. Right now all seemed right with the world. If God could save Father he could do anything. Anything. And watching Father enjoy the company of his long lost brother only added to the happy feeling. Gave Shem hope.

Fortunately, Shem had been able to ignore much of Paseah’s unpleasantness because Japheth had chosen the role of farmer for himself several years earlier. He wanted to remain close to the ark where he could plant and bring in crops and see his wife every day. Over the past few days, that choice of occupation had allowed Shem and Ham to escape much of the tension surrounding Paseah. After all, they had no choice but to continual with their usual job, did they? They had always worked as a team away from the ark on the more adventurous, if sometimes dangerous, task of collecting essentials necessary to supply the ark. They couldn’t forsake their duty now.

Shem smiled at the thought, more content than he’d been in years.

An impatient command from Ham telling his camel to settle down brought Shem out of his reverie. But when he glanced over, the camel was already kneeling, completely docile. Strange. Ham had seemed somehow anxious since he’d spent a couple of hours alone with Paseah. Shem couldn’t quite articulate the problem, but he knew Ham well enough to know something was eating at his brother.

“Problem?” Shem asked.

“I really don’t want to do this today,” Ham snapped.

“All we have to do is load six camels. How long can that take, a few hours?”  

Ham grimaced and refused to answer. Shem understood why some people used the expression “Brother!” to vent frustration and disgust.

“Tell you what. I’ll cut, you tie the plants into bundles and load.” Shem stripped off his outer garment and tied up his tunic with the leather belt he used for especially dirty work. Tossing his outer clothing on the ground, he pulled out a long knife and tested the blade with his thumb. Sharp. Good.

Shem waded into the marsh. Numbingly-cold water swallowed his feet, sending a shock through him. Whew! Goose flesh rose on his arms. “You don’t have to worry about snakes or alligators today,” he called over his shoulder to Ham. “Too cold.” He could see his brother hobbling the camels; preparing them for the next few hours of work. Shem had left Paseah’s nasty camel, Buzz, home with Japheth and Father even though Father had urged him to take the animal along because of his massive size and strength. That beast was one problem Shem did not need today.

The dense papyrus surrounding him towered several cubits over his head. A few of the slender stems rising from the murky water still supported spiked fan-like flowers. Today he would cut off those blooms and discard them.

He reached below the surface past his elbows and dug into mud, feeling around for the thick rhizomes where stems originated. Finding a tuber, he cut off five of the maroon leaves submerged at the base of one stem, sawed through the stalk itself, and javelined the plant to Ham.

The morning wore on, the weather warmed and no dangerous reptiles made an appearance. Eventually, confident no alligators or snakes hid in the reeds, Ham splashed out to collect the plants from his brother. As Shem harvested, Ham gathered the stems into bundles and carried them on his back to load onto the camels. They worked as one man, exchanging few words.

Near midday, Shem pulled up a long section of starchy rhizome for Mother to roast in a hot oven for the family’s evening meal. He sliced off a short piece for himself and washed it off. Knowing how Ham hated raw papyrus, Shem tossed a grin his brother’s direction as he popped the tidbit into his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Ham curled his lip. “Why do you chew that stuff?”

“I like it.”

“I don’t.”

“You like Mother’s vegetable stew when she adds papyrus.”

“That’s different. Boiled tastes better.”

Shem hooted and spat out the remains of the chewed tuber.

“That’s ghastly.” Ham scowled and averted his eyes. As he did so, Shem spotted slight movement just beyond his brother. A pair of eyes slid toward Ham over the skin of the water.

“Behind you!” Shem yelled. Without a second thought, he dived for the beast and grabbed his tail, yanking the rear end of the animal out of the water. Ham took off running. The gator curled back upon Shem, mouth baying, aiming for his face.

“Help me!” Shem shouted.

Halfway up the bank, Ham paused to look at Shem with wild unseeing eyes. He turned and scrambled onto the grass.

Shem was stunned by Ham’s retreat. Alone now, he hugged the gator’s massive tail to his chest, desperate to keep the strong back legs out of the water. The alligator thrashed back and forth like a whip. Shem felt himself losing his footing. Man and animal splashed into the water. Shem held onto the tail with everything in him. He kept it pressed against his chest so the creature couldn’t reach him with its deadly jaws.

The alligator rolled in the water, whipping his tail to shed the man. Pushing off the bottom with strong legs. Round and round. Dunking Shem. Drowning him. Each time Shem’s face broke the surface, he gasped for breath. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Finally, at the top of a revolution, he saw his brother plow into the water, rope in hand. White-faced, Ham lassoed the top of the gator’s open mouth. The creature continued to twirl. As he spun in the water, the whirling movement wrapped the remainder of the line around his mouth, drawing the top down and locking his jaws shut. 

Safe now from the baying mouth, Ham grabbed onto the tail with Shem. Together, the men wrestled the animal to shore where they bound the writhing tail and legs.

They sank onto the alligator’s back.

“Thought I was . . . ,” Shem wheezed, coughing and catching his breath, “a goner.”

Ham nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. Sorry.” His eyes were the size of a full moon and his body quaked visibly.

Shem didn’t know precisely to whom the “me, too” referred or exactly what his brother was apologizing for. He only knew he wanted to pop Ham in the nose. He valiantly fought the urge. “I considered dragging the gator into the grass by myself and feeding you to him.”

Ham released a weak laugh and Shem could tell his brother recognized the undercurrent of truth in the joke.

“It’s cold,” Ham said. “We’re both soaked. I say we have enough papyrus for today.”

“No.” Shem said adamantly. “Father said all six camels. Two more to go.”

“He’ll never know the difference if we unload them before he sees them.”

Shem stared at his brother in disbelief. Ham was a disgusting slug of a man today. Not himself at all. “You know what Father says.”

Ham rolled his eyes like a spoiled teenager again. “I know. ‘Always work your hardest, but work for God without trying to impress people.’” He rose to his feet and gathered his dry clothing. “I’m not going to work for anyone today. I’m going home.”

“No you’re not.” Shem stood, prepared to fight. It wouldn’t take much to convince him to pummel his brother right now. “We need pith for rope. And Mother wants some for floor mats.”

“She’ll live without mats and we can use that field of flax by the house for rope.”

“Flax rope isn’t as strong as papyrus. You know that.”

“Strong enough if we let the crop mature.”

“Too late. Japheth and Ulla harvested the plants for linen today.”

“Then we’ll do like the people in the city and make rope from date fiber.”

Shem was starting to shake from cold now. Crossing his arms over his chest, he rubbed them to warm himself. Something must be really bothering Ham for him to be such a fungus. Strangely, at that very moment Shem decided to cut his brother some slack. His anger evaporated.

“Look.” Shem’s tone was kind but unyielding. “Father wants papyrus ropes because they’re stronger. He wants papyrus for scrolls so he can make copies of the Book of Enoch for each of us. Therefore, I, for one, am going to harvest papyrus for him. And I’m going to stop yammering and start working so I can warm up. You go home.”

He turned his back to Ham and strode toward the water. “I know you’re scared of snakes and alligators, but it’s too cold for more reptiles. That was a fluke.”

“I’m not scared of them. I just don’t like them,” Ham shouted at Shem’s back.

“Fine. You don’t like them.” Shem thrust his hands into the water and felt for a stem. “Go home. I’ll finish up here.” The safely-tied-up alligator still hunkered on the grass near Ham. “Don’t worry, I’ll untie our friend and let him loose before I leave.” Shem began slashing stems while unwelcome negative thoughts once again rolled though his head. After floating a number of stems in the water, he gathered them and turned toward the camels.

Ham stood at the top of the bank looking at him, hands on hips, sheepish expression on his face. He wore the dry clothes he’d picked up earlier. When Shem reached the shore, Ham lifted the papyrus from his brother’s arms without a word. Back to himself again, Shem hoped.

Still, Shem’s pessimistic thoughts didn’t fade. He wondered which would be most difficult during and after the Flood: his brother, the dangerous animals, or the loneliness.