by Marek Halter
“I haven’t forgotten,” Moses murmured, after a long pause. “But who will believe these words after tonight? Who will believe tomorrow, when they have to go and search for straw? ‘Oh, Moses, how well you have freed us from the yoke of Pharaoh!’ That’s what you’ll hear, Zipporah. And what shall I answer?”
Moses was right. What had been hope turned the next day to despair and resentment. The work became harder, Pharaoh’s whip sharper. The most exhausted returned in the evening, while the others had to continue to press bricks all night. Moses was dispirited, and felt as if he were going round in circles.
“We should have consulted the elders about the best way to approach Pharaoh,” Aaron said.
“Why did you go and see that old madwoman, Hatshepsut?” Miriam said. “Pharaoh hates you all the more for it, and he will never listen to you again.”
“It isn’t me he has to listen to,” Moses retorted, matching her anger. “Don’t you see? It’s the voice of Yahweh he has to hear through my mouth and Aaron’s. That’s how things must come to pass. And it’s Yahweh’s will to harden Pharaoh’s heart against us.”
“That’s what your wife says,” Miriam replied. “That’s her way of seeing things, but she isn’t one of us. How can you listen to such nonsense? Who could possibly believe that the Lord Yahweh wants to increase our burden? How could he, if he wants us to be free?”
It was then that a rumor sprang up in the village, and was spread by the elders: It was the fault of Moses’ wife that Pharaoh hardened his heart and refused to listen to Moses. For how could Moses be the man chosen by the Everlasting, how could he be His mouth and His guide, if he had a daughter of Cush as a wife—the daughter of a people on whom Yahweh, as everyone knew, had not turned his eyes and with whom he had made no covenant.
When the rumor reached him, Moses waved his staff and threatened anyone who dared utter this lie to his face. “She gave me life when I was only a fugitive; she led me to the voice of Yahweh. She circumcised my son Eliezer when I myself had forgotten and Yahweh was taking my breath as a punishment. And is this how you repay her?”
But behind his back, the elders muttered that Moses did not know enough of the history of his people to be certain where his duty lay. What was the value, in truth, of sons whose mother was not a daughter of Israel? Miriam no longer hid her disdain for Zipporah.
“Don’t listen to them, my love,” Moses would implore Zipporah when they lay together at night. “Don’t pay them any heed. They are lost. They no longer know what they’re saying, and I don’t know how to fulfill the promise I made them.”
“Yes, we must listen to them,” Zipporah would whisper, returning his caresses. “They don’t love me. They’re disappointed with your choice; I’m not the wife they would have wished for Moses. And it may be that Miriam is right—she and the elders, and all of them. The Moses they need must belong to them more than he belongs to his wife.”
“DON’T blame Miriam, Zipporah, my child,” Yokeved said tenderly to Zipporah one morning. “Moses owes her a lot, too. When I entrusted him to the river to protect him from the killing of the firstborn, Miriam was a young handmaid in Hatshepsut’s palace. Hatshepsut didn’t share her father’s hate for the Hebrews. It was Miriam who pointed out to her the basket in which I had laid Moses. Everyone knew the queen had a weak husband who couldn’t give her a son. When she saw my Moses, she didn’t hesitate for long.” Yokeved was strong enough to laugh at this memory. But then her face turned somber. “Alas, Hatshepsut grew old, and her power diminished. The lords of the palace tore each other apart. Thutmose remembered Moses’ impossible birth. He sought out all of Hatshepsut’s old handmaids—”
“And found me.” Miriam’s voice made them both jump. “You’re right, Mother, to tell my brother’s wife the story. She thinks she’s so clever, but she has no idea what it means to belong to the people of the Lord Yahweh under the yoke of Pharaoh.” Holding herself erect, Miriam walked up to Zipporah, her eyes burning and her voice like lava. “Thutmose suspected that Moses had not come out of his sister’s womb. Everyone suspected it. And he found me. The soldiers took me to the cellars of the palace. For twenty days, they interrogated me about the man they called Moses. At first, I replied: ‘I don’t know. Who’s Moses?’ The questions became blows. Then the blows became something else. After each time, they asked: ‘Who is Moses? Whose womb bore him?’ And I would say: ‘What Moses? Who’s called Moses?’ Then they brought irons and braziers.” Miriam raised a trembling hand to her scar. “They thought that would be enough. But I said: ‘What Moses? Why should I know that name?’”
Miriam unfastened her tunic and opened it, revealing her naked body to the two women. Zipporah gasped in horror and covered her mouth with her hand.
On Miriam’s chest, belly, and thighs were some ten purple scars as horrible as the one on her face. They cut across her right breast, forming folds like old leather that disfigured it.
“This is what it means to belong to the people of Yahweh under the hand of Pharaoh,” Miriam roared. “Take a good look, daughter of Cush! Look at the mark of the slave! Do you understand now? You are only Moses’ wife, and you must be content with that position and not crow about it, for there are those among us who will never know kisses and caresses like those my brother lavishes on you.”
PART FOUR
Zipporah’s Words
I had had a dream, and it had come true.
But, faced with Miriam’s body, it faded.
I had called the god of my father Jethro: “Who will be my god if not you?” Moses’ God had replied:
“I am here, I am Yahweh, he who is.”
And now, faced with Miriam’s tortured body, Moses’ God was forbidden to me. Faced with Miriam’s stomach and breasts, faced with her ruined beauty, her violated flesh, my own flesh, intact, made for love, cast me back into the darkness of women with no ancestors.
Zipporah the stranger; Zipporah the wife, who counted for nothing.
There was no need for Miriam to repeat the lesson; I had understood. Moses’ wife could not raise her voice along with those who suffered the hatred of Pharaoh, because they belonged to the people of Moses and Yahweh. Moses’ wife was of no people, whether loathed or glorious. She was like the chaff that has been separated from the wheat.
Yahweh had appeared to Moses in order to make himself heard by his people, and now Moses belonged to that people, just as Miriam’s wounds spoke for all the wounds endured by the children of Israel under the Egyptian yoke.
How insignificant was Zipporah in this struggle!
How severe were Miriam’s words, forbidding me to receive my husband’s love, or even to support him other than by keeping silent and taking my black body as far away as possible!
And I moaned, still unaware of the days of blood and turmoil that awaited me. Unaware of the terrible loss I would suffer, a loss that is killing me now just as surely as the blood flowing from my gashed belly, from the wound that is gaping as much as Miriam’s.
The Return
It took me many words and caresses to convince Moses that the wisest course for me would be to return to Jethro’s domain. His rage echoed through Yokeved’s house and the streets of the village.
“Yahweh speaks for you as much as for the others!” he roared.
“Stay with me,” he implored. “I’ll never do anything good without you.”
He went to the elders and cried: “Would the Everlasting be the Everlasting if he only supported those who have the same color of skin as us? Do you think he will turn away from my sons because their mother is from Cush?”
But the elders did not relent. “You are forgetting the covenant, Moses,” they replied, confident in their own knowledge. “The Everlasting holds out his hand to those he has elected to his covenant, not to the others.”
That merely increased Moses’ irritation. “You were quite happy to forget the covenant and its duties in the days when Joseph was sold into the hands of Pharaoh.”
&n
bsp; So violent was his rage, it made clear how certain he was that I would go. Then he turned his pain against me:
“Is that how you show your love for me? By running away? You, my bride of blood? Leaving me here to face the multitude, even weaker than I was in the desert, when you gave me back my life?”
I had to calm him with kisses and caresses, intoxicating myself with them as if savoring honey that would soon be finished. I had to calm myself, too, to overcome my desire to grant him what he asked and say, “Yes, yes, of course I’ll stay with you.”
But Miriam was there, before my eyes. The sight of her was enough to bring me back to my senses.
Finally, one evening, after a day when the whip of Pharaoh had decimated a whole group of men for being exhausted and unable to supply all the bricks demanded by the foremen, those returning to the village attacked Moses.
“Look, Moses! Look at these corpses! Men turned into mincemeat. Oh, may Yahweh see what you have done, you and your brother. You have made Pharaoh and his princes despise us even more. You have given them a sword with which to slay us. And you bleat because you have to lose your wife?”
Moses spent the following night standing on the ridge of the quarry overlooking the village. Fearing for him, Joshua and I had followed him. Crouching behind a rock, we heard him calling Yahweh at the top of his voice.
“Why did you send me? Since I came to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has been mistreating your people and you have not delivered them. Why force me to go on, if all I do is make things worse?”
He was shouting so loudly, he could be heard down below in the village. What could not be heard, either by the villagers or by Moses, was Yahweh’s answer.
When dawn broke, Joshua came to me and told me what Aaron and the elders were saying: “The Everlasting won’t answer Moses. He is impure because of the Cushite woman. Yahweh won’t appear to him until he’s resolved this problem.”
I could not wait any longer. I ordered my handmaid Murti to rouse the shepherds.
“Tell them to prepare my camels and what we need for the journey. Tomorrow at dawn, we set out for Midian.”
Moses did not protest. In fact, he did not even dare look at me.
He took his sons in his arms and held them for a long time, much to their surprise.
His caresses that night were different from those I had known. It was I who was leaving, yet Moses was already distancing himself from me, like a man who is about to leave on a long journey.
When the time came to say farewell, only Yokeved and Joshua had tears in their eyes.
For two whole days, I did not open my mouth. If I could have stopped breathing, I would have. If my skin had been light, everyone would have seen my face flush red with humiliation. I had become Zipporah the outcast wife.
Two terrible days.
Then, as we were going north along the River Iterou, I heard my name being called. There were so many boats on the river, I didn’t see him at first. It was Joshua! Joshua waving his arms excitedly and laughing.
A moment later, he stood before me. “I hoped I’d catch up with you! I jumped into a boat as soon as I could. Boats are much quicker than horses and mules!”
“Why jump into a boat? Are you planning to flee Egypt and get to know Midian?”
My voice was sharper and more mocking than I had intended. But Joshua took no notice. He laughed and kneaded my hands.
“Yahweh has answered Moses! Yesterday. Yahweh spoke to him! He said: ‘You will see what I am going to do to Pharaoh! The king of Egypt may endure, but my hand will prevail! He will surrender, he will expel my people, he will not want to hear their name spoken! I will lead you to the land over which I have raised my hand, the land I gave to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob! You will see, I will harden Pharaoh’s heart and I will multiply my signs and wonders!’”
Joshua was shaking with joy. Was he aware that to me, his words were like a slap in the face?
Of course, I could not help but rejoice. At least the Lord Yahweh was not leaving Moses in torment!
But how heavy my heart felt as I listened to him! No sooner had I turned my back than Yahweh spoke to my husband! Was he teaching me a lesson because I had not been absolutely convinced that my departure was a good thing? Did he want to show me that Miriam was right?
Was he, too, saying, “Let’s rid ourselves of this Cushite”?
My eyes filled with tears. Joshua guessed what was tormenting me. “No, no! You’re wrong. I’m sure of it.” He kissed me, took me in his arms, tried his best to fire me with his enthusiasm. “Moses will lead us. The elders won’t doubt him anymore. And you will see him again. I know it. We, too, shall see each other again. I know it as well as if it were written in those clouds.” He pointed to a long line of vapor hanging over the northern horizon.
I tried to laugh with him. “Can you actually read?”
“Of course! I can read and write! Almost as well as Aaron. And not the writings of Pharaoh; rather, the writings of our elders.”
“Be a valued friend to Moses, then,” I murmured, giving him one last kiss. “Watch over him, love him, and don’t let Aaron be the only one to instruct him.”
THE winter rains had only just begun when I saw again the low, whitewashed walls of the well of Irmna.
Throughout the journey from Egypt I had been brooding on my woes, but now, just the sight of the rough bricks surrounding my father’s domain was like a caress. The joy of returning home soothed me. I clasped Eliezer and Gershom to me and whispered, “We’re back!”
Gershom, who was starting to put names to things, recognized the great sycamore on the road to Epha and laughed, and Eliezer clapped his hands when he saw the pen full of mules, kids, and rams.
Of course, it was all a far cry from the splendor of Egypt. Here, the green of the oases was merely a patch in the immensity of the desert, whereas the green banks of the River Iterou filled the horizon from one end of the earth to the other. But here, the bricks that had been used to build the walls and houses had been made with joy, the joy of constructing and harboring the simple delights of peace, affection, and justice.
My heart was beating in advance at the thought of the cries of joy that would greet me, I knew, as soon as my children and I had passed through the heavy door with its bronze fittings. And that was exactly what happened.
Sefoba came running with a little girl in her arms, shouting as loudly as though the roofs were on fire. My brother, Hobab, lifted me off the ground as if I were still a child. My father Jethro, shaking from head to foot, raised his arms to heaven and blessed the Everlasting for letting him see his daughter Zipporah again. The handmaids made so much noise with their screams of joy that they frightened Gershom and Eliezer. There was much kissing and hugging, much laughter, many tears, and a banquet like those I had known in the old days when I had helped prepare them for my father’s guests.
It was only then, sitting beneath his canopy on comfortable cushions, that Jethro, in his usual gentle manner, asked me: “And why have you returned, daughter? Is Moses well?”
It took me all that evening, all the next day, and beyond to tell him everything that had happened in the land of Pharaoh.
Jethro, as was his custom, listened attentively and then asked a thousand questions: Why had Moses done this? How had Aaron said that? Were the slaves’ houses real houses? What was the correct name for the resin Queen Hatshepsut smeared on her body?
“Oh, may Yahweh bless me, what horror, what horror!” he would exclaim after each answer.
That was the only judgment he made, although he questioned me again and again about Miriam and the elders.
He also sent for Eliezer, to see with his own eyes the circumcision his daughter had performed. He stroked his grandson’s member tenderly, then gripped my hand and, with fingers that were now twisted with age, squeezed it until it hurt.
“May the Everlasting bless you, daughter!” he cried, merrily. “May he bless you to the end of time. What an extraordinary thing
! Quite extraordinary, I tell you, and something we’ll always remember.”
When I finally told him about my departure, how Joshua had caught up with me, and the advice I had given him, my father clapped his hands happily. “That’s my Zipporah! I’m proud of you, daughter of Jethro. For this and for everything else you’ve told me, I’m proud of you.”
That was his only comment.
For the next two or three days, I reacquainted myself with life in the domain. Sefoba and the handmaids wanted to know everything I could tell them about the strange things I had seen in the land of Pharaoh. Then, exactly as he used to do whenever he wanted to tell me something important, Jethro asked me to serve him his first meal of the day.
As I was putting down the pitcher of milk, he pointed to the cushions. “Sit next to me, daughter.”
With a little wink of his crumpled eyelids, he indicated the summit of Horeb’s mountain. “Up there, there hasn’t been a single rumble since you and Moses left. Not the slightest rumble since the great row with your sister and Moses.” He chuckled, then clicked his tongue. “Do you know she’s a queen now? Lady Orma, they call her. Lady Orma, wife of Reba, the king of Sheba. Still as beautiful, still as scatterbrained, and just as much a creature of whim. She loves power. She loves it so much, she terrifies all who come near her. Even the armorers fear her. Who would believe she is Jethro’s daughter? She may come and visit you. Or she may not. She still bears you a grudge, you know—a big one, apparently. On the other hand, she might be happy to hear that you’ve left Moses, and then she won’t be able to resist coming here and showing off her wealth and her handmaids to you . . .”
The look he gave me told me that all that was of no importance and that he had something quite different to tell me. He drank his milk slowly before resuming.
“Moses is on the right road, the road that Yahweh has shown him. He is committed to it. Things aren’t over yet. Quite the contrary. He is performing the task he came here to find.” My father made a gesture that encompassed his domain and Horeb’s mountain. “I know what you’re thinking, daughter. This Aaron and Miriam, the brother and sister, rejected you unceremoniously. Your Cushite skin has become the banner of their jealousy. The elders of Moses’ people have rejected you. It’s possible that even the Everlasting has rejected you. That’s what you’re thinking.”