Deborah, Shaping A Nation

Deborah, Shaping A Nation

by Nova Wells

copyright 2012, Nova Wells

Smashwords Edition

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CHAPTER 1

Ball, ball, the naked toddler squealed in Aramaic as she raced across the room after a stuffed sheepskin orb. Throw the ball, her black eyes danced as she lobbed the ball overhand as hard as her fourteen-month-old arm could heave. The object struck the opposite wall with a soft thud and began rolling under the stools and table a few feet away. Rebekah dropped to all fours and crawled under the table to retrieve her ball and throw it again. Then she ran to a large water jar in the corner of the room and picked up a gourd dipper. She started to pound the red and white painted dipper against the jar, dink, dink, she demanded.

Deborah quickly snatched the battered gourd. Stop, she cried. That’s not a toy. You must be careful. She dipped the gourd into the jar and held it for the child to sip the cool water. Then she took a drink for herself. Rebekah had already run the length of the room to grab the ball again.

Deborah sat down on the hard clay floor. Roll the ball to me, she told the child, and I’ll roll it back to you.

No, throw, Rebekah yelled. She heaved the ball again and chased it across the room. Deborah decided there wasn’t much she could do except be sure the ball didn’t hit something it could damage. The ball was soft and there weren’t many breakable things in the room. Maybe she could catch it if it was headed in the wrong direction. Then Rebekah stopped suddenly and squatted to empty her bowel on the floor.

Beka, shame, Deborah scolded, trying not to laugh. You are big enough to use the waste jar! Still Deborah allowed the child to finish before she scooped her up, upside down, causing squeals of glee, and begin visually searching the room for the supplies she needed. On one wall was a long, narrow hollow of a shelf constructed into the thick mud brick wall when it was built. In the hollow was a small bowl of water, a soft towel, a pottery shard scraper and another bowl of clean sand.

Deborah carried the little girl to where she could scoop water into her own hand and clean the child’s bottom. After washing both, she toweled the girl dry and dried her own hand. Putting Beka upright on the floor, Deborah took the scraper and clean sand to clean up the mess and coat the damp area with sand.

Now if you ride on my back you can go with me to empty the bowl in the big jar outside.

Yes, yes, yes, Beka chanted and Deborah knelt down for her to climb and wrap chubby

legs around her waist.

Hang on tight, she cautioned as she headed out the door to the family waste jar kept by the back wall. Two large lidded jars stood side by side, one for waste and one with clean water to rinse and refill the washing bowl. Task completed they hurried back inside.

Hun-y, hun-y, Beka insisted. It took Deborah a few minutes to understand.

So am I, Deborah agreed. Let’s go to the kitchen and see what my mother says we can have to eat. Ariah gave the two girls small bowls of cold lentil soup and buns of fresh warm bread. She cautioned Deborah about holding Rebekah’s bowl for her to drink so the thin pottery dish wouldn’t be dropped and broken. Then she sent the girls back to the table and stools in the other room. Deborah quickly discovered that Rebekah was too small to reach the table using a stool, so she moved their bowls to the floor and they sat on the hard clay.

Rebekah finished eating and headed for a supply of wool waiting to be spun. She grabbed a handful from the corner bench and quickly threw it into the air and tried to catch it.

No, no, Deborah commanded. That is not something to play with. While Deborah gathered the wool strands Rebekah decided to empty her brother’s toys out of their baskets. Deborah didn’t think that was a good idea either.

Where is your ball, Rebekah? Let’s play a game with it. Then they played a tag game and Deborah tried to get Rebekah to sit still while she made up a story. Deborah found a small carpet rolled up next to the wall. Look what I’ve found, she called. Is this your nap rug and your dolly? I think it’s time for dolly to take a nap, but she won’t go to sleep unless you come and hold her.

Deborah unrolled the carpet and spread it invitingly on the floor. Dolly is so sleepy, She rocked the small doll. It was carefully made of sheepskin, with arms and legs, a painted face and wearing a hand woven wool tunic. She held out the doll and watched the little girl come reluctantly toward her.

Beka cradled the doll and rocked her a little, then curled up on her side with the dolly awkwardly tucked in one elbow. There is a song my mother used to sing to me, Deborah told her. "It’s a sleepy song and it sounds like this,

"There’s a time to play and a time to rest,

Both are good but neither is best.

Close your eyes and listen to me,

For dreams won’t come if you can still see."

The words were some Rebekah had not heard before, the accents softer than she was used to. Deborah’s native tongue was similar to the Semitic Aramaic tongue of Haran, belonging to the Akkadian people who had occupied the land before the conquering Seminites invaded from the east. Deborah’s mother had been enslaved as a young woman, a result of battle, but she did not talk much about her life before slavery. She taught Deborah that being a good person mattered more than being slave or free and that hating your master only made a difficult life harder.

The world is a complicated place, Ariah explained. It may change during your lifetime. Those who are masters now may themselves become slaves. You have to create your own happiness by finding beauty around you in sunrises and sunsets, trees and flowers, animals and people. Always look for beauty!

Deborah sat cross-legged, watching the child sleep. She is beautiful, she thought. She reached out to touch the black curls that covered the child’s head. Her hair is so soft, her skin such a delicate brown. Deborah pulled her own long, brown braid over her shoulder and decided that her skin might be the same color as Rebekah’s if she hadn’t spent so much time outside. She pulled her tunic back from her shoulder and noticed the line where the sun and hot air had darkened her arms.

The first she had known about this change in her life had been when her mother called her that morning.

You’re coming with me today when I go to the Master’s house, Ariah told her daughter.

A look of surprise crossed the eight-year-old’s face. But why? I know we are servant’s of the master, but what could I possibly do in the house?

I don’t know for sure. I was only asked about you and told to bring you. But I think you are to be in charge of Rebekah. That little one is in constant motion and constant trouble. Her mother will soon have another baby and spends much of her time lying down. The rest of us have a great deal of work to do without chasing Rebekah.

Deborah had never been in Bethuel’s house before. She and her mother lived with the other slaves in camel’s hair tents on the north and east of the courtyard behind the house; one large tent for the women, another for the men. West of Bethuel’s house was a similar house belonging to Bethuel’s father, Nahor. It was the house originally built by Tehra, Nahor’s father, when the family first emigrated from Ur. Farther west was the grandest house of all which Tehra later had built for himself. It was made of wood instead of mud brick, in the style of the rich houses of Ur where Tehra had lived for many years before the Sumatrans invaded Chaldea.

When Terah selected this location for his family’s home, there were only a few houses along the small river that flowed into the Euphrates. Terah found the old well and irrigation canals built by a people who had moved away hundreds of years before. He and his sons and slaves cleaned the well and scooped out the irrigation canals so they could plant vineyards and orchards. They planted a garden of melons and cucumbers from seeds brought from Ur. There were several kinds of beans, onions, garlic, dill, mint and cumin. This vegetable garden and the vineyard were east, between the house and river and could be watered from the irrigation canal. Thorn bushes were left around the garden perimeter to keep out deer and smaller animals that might want to steal the produce.

The men cleared areas of forest and brush to put in olive, fig and pomegranate trees. They planted small fields of lentils and barley. The oak and pine trees they cut were used in the construction of their houses and furniture. Their herds of sheep, goats, cows and donkeys grazed in grassy areas to the west at the edge of the forests.

The slaves’ dwelling-tents were outside of, but close to the low walls of the courtyard. From there Deborah had been able to see two almond trees planted in the courtyard, shading carved limestone benches. Close to the wall but out of her sight, was the outdoor oven where her mother baked bread each day for Bethuel’s household and slaves. Next to the house was the cistern where rain water drained from the roof of the house through a channel cut into the plastered thatch. This was the water the family used for bathing and the slaves used for laundry. Drinking water came from the well a short distance from the house.

Deborah thought the houses were beautiful with their gleaming white, lime coated walls. The main area of the courtyard was a work area shaded by a fig tree. Here were grinding stones where the slave women ground barley and lentils, or sometimes wheat, each day for baking bread.

As Terah’s sons married they built more houses and Terah named the village Haran, after his son who had been killed in one of the attacks on Ur. Other people began moving to Haran. In the beginning there were only farmers but now there were merchants and tradesmen who came and built their homes until Haran was a small city, though not nearly as great as Ur had been.That way, Ariah had pointed south as she explained to her daughter, there are shops selling food and trade goods from far away. But Deborah had never been there and could not imagine what it was like.

While Rebekah slept, Deborah got to her feet and began exploring the room. It was long and narrow with a door to the courtyard on the north and an outside door on the east where she and her mother had entered that morning with the other slaves. Oak beams cut from the forest supported the roof of poles and brambles. There were windows on the east and north with open shutters, that made the room seem light and airy. The thick mud brick walls had been coated with white, lime plaster. Several niches in the walls held copper lamps filled with olive oil to use in the evening. Another open doorway led to a hall that ran the length of the house. Deborah could see other doorways to the left. To the right was the opening to the kitchen where her mother worked.

The room she was in seemed to be used for many things. There was the pile of wool Rebekah had wanted to play with, waiting to be carded and spun, on a wooden bench in the corner. A basket under the bench held tools needed. Two small looms leaned against one wall. They would be used in the courtyard when weather permitted. The marble pedestal table and wooden stools could be used by the family when they ate. The older brothers had toys in woven reed baskets under the windows. Although the floors were hard-packed clay, there were beautiful carpets hung on wooden pegs driven into the walls, which could be taken down and spread on the floor when desired.

When Rebekah woke, Deborah was ready for her. Here, Rebekah. Come here and sit on your little waste pot and make your water. The child had obviously used the pot before, for she came and sat, but nothing happened. Can you clap your hands together? Deborah asked as she clapped in demonstration. No response. She picked up the child’s two hands and clapped them together. Rebekah clapped her own hands and laughed at the sound they made.

Clap, clap, clap! First Deborah, then Rebekah, laughing and clapping. Distracted, Rebekah relaxed and Deborah heard her passing water.

Good Beka!. That’s much nicer than having to clean the floor. She showed Beka how to dip her hand into the small water bowl and clean herself, then stand and dry herself with the towel.

Don’t follow me, Deborah cautioned as went out the open door into the courtyard. She carried the small waste pot and bowl of water to the family waste jar by the back wall. Stay in the doorway. The ground is too hot and it will burn your feet!

But Beka was not used to minding anyone and she ran after Deborah. Only five or six steps outside the door she began to whimper, lifting one little foot and then the other. Deborah finished her chore, rinsing and refilling the bowl and emptying the small waste pot before she turned to see Orpha, Rebekah’s mother, snatch the child from the hot ground. Rebekah responded with louder sobs and cuddled into her mother’s arms.

What kind of a nurse are you, letting a barefoot baby out on the hot ground? she demanded angrily. I can see we made a mistake trusting you with Rebekah. Put those things back on the shelf and leave at once. Orpha disappeared into the house while Deborah, stunned, walked slowly to do as she was told.

Chapter 2

Isaac was tired. His feet felt like they were made of lead and his head burned, even through the white wool turban wrapped loosely around it. He looked at the two slaves who plodded along behind him leading two donkeys carrying their supplies. They had come a good distance today but they needed to find water before they stopped for the night.

Dry forest grew in the hills to the west. Desert sands lay out of sight to the east. A glance around the barren scrub and grassland showed water wouldn’t be easy to find. There was no spring creating an oasis, no stream, and no other people or animals within view. He sighed and continued walking the faint trail across an almost featureless landscape.

The trio had been traveling south from Bethel for two weeks, looking for Isaac’s brother Ishmael. They had passed through most of the settled land and were now