by Jim Plautz
Delays in the Lake Tana resort project were caused in large part by the commercial fishing industry, a giant business in Bahir Dar where more than 1,400 tons of fish are harvested annually. Three species of fish are harvested; African catfish, Nile tilapia and a fish endemic to this region called the Labeobarbus. These large food fish breed in the mouths of the three rivers feeding Lake Tana and are particularly vulnerable to the gill nets thrown from the Paparyrus boats used by native fishermen. Environmentalists filed petitions to prevent any construction that might further the possible extinction of this unique Labeobarbus species which had dwindled in population by 75% since the fishery was built in 1986. All fishing was banned near the river mouths and on the upstream spawning areas during the August–September peak breeding periods. As a result, it took almost three years to obtain the permits necessary to complete the water front portion of the resort and marina.
Marco delegated day-to-day responsibility to the Ethiopian task managers, but still needed to be on site almost 50% of the time or work would slow to almost a standstill. I tried to free up more time for Marco, but to no avail.
“Marco, can you break free from the Lake Tana project for six months? We could use you on the hydro electric power plant project in Switzerland.”
“Jim, I would love to, but I really can’t break away from here for that long. How about one week a month?”
“No, the client wants someone full time. What’s the problem? Why can’t you delegate? These guys seem pretty sharp.”
“They are sharp, but they just don’t want to be in charge – it’s against their culture to give orders and assume responsibility. I can leave them with specific instructions to get something done and trust them to get it done, but work will stop as soon as they hit a snag.”
“I understand. You know, there are a lot of people like that back home too. It just seems like such a small hurdle to overcome.”
“Maybe that’s why every ant colony needs a queen?” Marco concluded.
“Okay, queen-bee, I’ll see you next week. Ken and I have meetings in Addis Abba Tuesday and then we‘ll come visit for a couple days. Do you need anything from home?”
“Not unless you can bring some excitement with you, but I look forward to the company. It gets pretty boring over here. As you know, the night life here needs a little improvement.”
Ken and I usually visited the project about once a month, mainly to meet with government officials in Addis Abba. The meetings usually lasted only a few hours before we headed to Lake Tana to get an update from Marco. I had high hopes for next week’s meeting because Matthew had told me we were getting close to getting permission from the fishing industry to build on Lake Tana. I was disappointed again.
“Eventually we’ll get the permits, but nobody is in a hurry,” I told Ken as we caught an early Ethiopian Airlines shuttle from Asmara airport to our newly completed private airport on Lake Tana. “At least they agreed to pay us for the delays,”
“Why did you offer to give back the extra money if we received a go-ahead by the end of the year? Ken asked. “That sounded almost like a bribe.”
“I prefer to use the word incentive. Matthew is adamant that we do everything by the book, but I don’t think he would object to a little incentive. Besides, the money would go back to the Ethiopian government, not any official.”
“Do you really believe that?” Marco asked when we told him about our meetings. “They were figuring out ways to funnel the money back to their own pockets before you left the building.”
“How cynical,” Ken said with a wink.
“Any problems we should talk about while we are here?” I asked, changing the subject?
“Not really, everything is going along pretty smoothly. I’m sorry you wasted your trip, but there is really nothing for me to complain about.”
“Well, Ken and I are going to drive over to Gondar and talk to a Falashas priest; care to join us?”
“Sure, why not. Is there a reason for this?”
“I’ve wanted to do this for two years. I can’t understand how a group of Black Jews ended up in the highlands of Ethiopia, two thousand miles from Israel.”
“Good question.”
The trip to Gondar was fascinating despite the fact that the only remaining Falashas in Ethiopia were women, children and old men. Most of the men had immigrated to Israel to build a home for their families. “Why did the men flee?” we asked a village elder.
“Some left because of the famine, but most left because of religious persecution. Jews and Christians got along for hundreds of years, but this changed in 1974 when militants overthrew Emperor Haile Selassie, putting an end to the Solomonic dynasty. There are less than 10,000 Falashas remaining in Ethiopia.”
We spent six hours with the Falasha priest who described a pre-Talmud Jewish faith based on the Old Testament. They didn’t eat the meat of animals dying of natural causes or any meat slain by a gentile. They worshipped sacred groves of trees and most significantly, still performed blood sacrifice to their lord, a practice that had been outlawed by King David since 600 BC.
“It’s like they have been in an incubator, completely out of touch with current Jewish practices,” Ken remarked.
We toured two churches that were more than a thousand years old, and realized that both churches had an inner chamber called a Holy of Holies, where only high could enter. Each inner chamber contained a Tabot, the centerpiece of their worship.
“All churches in Ethiopia are the same,” the priest replied in response to our questions. “Each church has a Holy of Holies containing a Tabot that represents God’s word. They are just copies, of course. The original Tabot is in Axum.”
“May we see it,” I asked.
“Oh no, only the most senior priest is allowed to see the Tabot. It is brought out only once a year during the Timkat ceremony in January.”
I decided to ask the priest another question that had been bothering me. “There are rumors that your people are direct descendants of Menelik I, the son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. Is there any truth to that rumor?”
“Oh yes, our ancestors tell many ancient stories about this time. I’m not sure that the Queen of Sheba was from Ethiopia or Arabia, but the stories are true. It is documented in a 13th century manuscript called the Kebra Nagast which is sacred to Ethiopian beliefs.”
We were quiet during the ride home, lost in our own thoughts, before Marco broke the silence. “Why the questions about the Queen of Sheba, Jim?”
“Well, I find it interesting that Jews were here at least 1,000 years before Christ, and apparently have a different lineage entirely than the Jews in Eastern Ethiopia. Their skin color is a smooth, bronze color, different than most Africans.”
“I still don’t get it,” Marco asked again. “What’s the point?”
Ken came to my rescue. “Imagine having to flee Jerusalem in 587 BC and needing a new place to hide the Ark of the Covenant. What better place than somewhere where there already is a Jewish community that will guard it. If the Falashas are indeed direct descendants of King Solomon, it makes Ethiopia’s claim that they possess the Ark much more believable.”
“It certainly explains their bronze skin color. What other possible reason is there for a race of bronze-skinned Jews to be in Ethiopia, still practicing a pre-600 BC Jewish faith that allows blood sacrifices. The story about being blood-line descendants of Menelik I makes sense,” I replied, trying to get my own beliefs in order. “It also fits the timeline. The Falashas trace their history back to about 900 BC which coincides with how old Moses’ offspring would have been. Moses died in 925 BC.”
“Not to confuse things,” Ken added with his typical smile, “but many people believe there is also a story about Solomon having a child with the Queen of Sheba’s maid servant who was the real source of the Solomonic empire.”
“For real?” I asked.
“Scouts honor, cross-my-heart,” Ken promised, laughing aloud.
Marco was
still confused. “Well, that might explain how they got up here in the highlands, but why do they worship the Tabot and what does that have to do with the Ark?”
“Worshiping a Tabot is also is a direct connection to the Ark of the Covenant,” Ken explained. “A Tabot is a small board that represents the stone tablets containing the Ten Commandments that God gave Moses on Mount Sinai. They worship the word of God, not the Ark.”
We lapsed into silence again until Ken made a suggestion. “Anyone care to fly to Axum next month for the Timkat ceremony January 18 and 19? We might as well see for ourselves.”
“I’m in,” Marcos replied eagerly, apparently caught up in the excitement of the legend that was an intoxicating mixture of myth, religion and science. I knew how he must feel, because the legend of the lost Ark of the Covenant had a hold on me.
“So am I, but one thing still bothers me. The priest claimed that the Ark came here roughly 470 BC, but we know it disappeared from Jerusalem before the 587 BC when Solomon’s Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians.”
“Where was it for 117 years?” Ken added, doing the math.
“In Axum?” Marco answered tentatively.
“Not likely; archeologists say Axum wasn’t built until around 200 BC,” Ken replied. “Assuming the priest is correct about receiving the Ark in 470 BC, there still is a 300 year gap between when it left Israel in 587 BC and arrived in Gondar. Where was it?”
“You’re right, Marco. Graham Hancock postulates in his book, The Sign and the Seal, that the Ark was already gone from the Temple when Josiah ascended to the Jewish throne in 640 BC. In 626 BC Jeremiah asked where it was. In 622 BC Josiah asked the Levite Priests to put it back in the house that Solomon built. Hancock believes the Ark was taken sometime during the reign of King Manasseh. If Hancock is correct, the gap is closer to 200 years.”
“I’m impressed,” Ken responded in mock awe, although I knew he was at least a little bit surprised I had pulled these facts out of my memory bank.
“Furthermore, you might be surprised to learn that a Jewish Temple was built on Elephantine Island around 640 BC that was ninety feet long and 30 feet wide, the exact dimensions given in the Bible for Solomon’s Temple,” Ken said, finishing my thought.
“Okay you two, that’s enough. One of you spouting miscellaneous trivia is all I can handle,” Marco interrupted good naturedly. “But tell me, why on Elephantine Island? That’s in Egypt near the Aswan Dam, isn’t it?’
“That’s the spot,” Ken agreed. “Maybe our new trivia expert can tell us why.”
“Well Ken, since you obviously don’t know, I will enlighten you. I’m sure you both know that in those days the Nile was the natural roadway through Egypt and Sudan. In addition, it is well accepted that a group of Jewish mercenaries in the employ of Egypt had already established a colony on Elephantine Island well before the 7th century BC. Coincidentally, they also practiced an older form of the religion that included animal sacrifices, including the sacrifice of a lamb on the first day of Passover.”
“Didn’t King Josiah outlaw animal sacrifices?” Marco asked.
“Yes, sometime between 640-609 BC, but it’s interesting to note that the practices continued long after, apparently on the authority of the ‘Lord that was dwelling there’.”
“They were referring to the Ark,” Ken said quietly.
The three of us were lost in our own thoughts until Marco broke the silence. “Maybe we’ll find some answers in Axum?”
Axum, dating back centuries before Christ, was the capital of the powerful Axumite Empire until the 10th century and was the home of Ethiopian Christianity. It traces its roots to the Queen of Sheba although historians doubt that the city of Axum is that old.
Axum served as a connecting point in the trade route between the Eastern Roman Empire and Persia and has been the heart of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church since King Ezana brought Christianity to the country in the 4th century. A Christian Monk visited the city in 600 AD and wrote the following description; “the four-towered palace of the King of Ethiopia was adorned with brazen figures of a unicorn, as well as the skins of rhinoceros stuffed with chaff.”
We gazed upon the new St. Mary’s of Zion Church in the outskirts of Axum, the purported resting place of the Ark of the Covenant. The new church, built by King Haile Selassie, was built in the 1960s to replace the original church built in AD 372, making it possibly the first Christian church in Africa. “May we see it?” Ken asked, as we entered the chapel.
“Only the Guardian of the Ark of the Covenant is allowed to enter the Holy of Holies and gaze upon the Ark.”
“Then how do we know for sure that the Ark is in there?”
“The guardian swears to it, as did the 33 guardians before him,” our guide replied earnestly, pointing to 33 white robes on display. “The guardian is trained as a youth and devotes his entire life to this task. When he dies, another guardian is appointed. The Ark is only seen once a year, at Timkat, the celebration of the Holy Epiphany which to early Eastern Christians commemorates the baptism of Christ.”
We spent the next fifteen minutes walking around the church looking at artifacts, including two silver trumpets that were purportedly stolen from the second temple during the Roman conquest of Jerusalem in 70 AD. Closer inspection indicated they were copies.
“The original trumpets decorate the arch of Titus, commemorating his victory over Jerusalem and his destruction of the temple,” our guide pointed out.
The Timkat ceremony started tomorrow so we spent the afternoon walking around the city and talking with locals. “Maybe it’s a tourist hype, but they are sure consistent in claiming that the real Ark of the Covenant is in St. Mary’s,” Marco concluded.
“That, and the fact that every one of them claims that they would guard it with their lives,” I said in agreement. “I believe, that they believe, the Ark is in that church.”
“Say that again,” Ken needled. “I got lost in the second, I believe.”
We asked our guide what happened to the Ark when the Axum was run over by the rebels in 1990 and the King was overthrown, and earlier when the Muslims overran the country and destroyed almost all the Catholic and Jewish churches. “The rebels would have no reason to worship the Ark, would they?”
“The Ark is moved to other safe places in times of crisis,” our guide responded.
“Was it moved to Gondar before the rebels came?”
“There are many stories that the Ark was taken to Tana Kirkos Island for safety, but that was hundreds of years ago,” he replied vaguely.
I dropped the subject, sensing that I was not going to get a direct answer. We took the short ride to the city of Dongar to see the Queen of Sheba's palace and pleasure bath, passing a field of roughly 75 erected obelisks of various shapes and sizes, each obelisk with symbolic engravings, erected more than 2,000 years ago. The tallest standing monolith is about 75 feet high, but the largest would have stood 108 feet tall. “Think of the engineering it must have taken to stand those suckers up,” Ken remarked.
“It wouldn’t be hard; all you need is a couple 100-foot cranes,” Marco answered absentmindedly.
Ken looked at me to see if I thought Marco was kidding. I wasn’t sure.
We found the palace and bath to be fairly well preserved, but not nearly old enough to have been a residence of the Queen of Sheba who lived in Solomon’s time. At most, the Axum area’s history traces back to 500 BC, but probably closer to 200 BC. Our guide pointed out that the bath, fed by an underground spring, would play an important role in tomorrow’s Timkat ceremony. “Water, traditionally, is symbolic of cleansing and a new beginning.”
Our biggest surprise came as we walked the grounds and surrounding fields and noticed a number of crosses etched into stones and brickwork. “What are these?” I asked. “Didn’t we see the same cross in the palace foundation?”
“This is the emblem of the Knights Templar,” our guide answered.
“The same Knights
Templar that set up headquarters on the Temple Mount?” I said more to myself than to anyone else. “This is more than a coincidence.”
The following day we attended Timkat hoping to catch a glimpse of the true Ark of the Covenant. I was disappointed as the High Priest was escorted out of Saint Mary of Zion church holding a small chest, wrapped in cloth. I couldn’t see it, but was sure this wasn’t the real Ark of the Covenant. One indicator was that the guardian monk stayed in the Holy of Holies, chanting in his slow, rhythmic style, and lighting frankincense to honor the Lord. Would he not carry the Ark himself if it indeed was authentic?
The people didn’t mind as they joyously followed the High Priest in a day-long procession that ended at the Queen of Sheba’s palace. Men and women shamelessly bathed themselves in the Queen’s pleasure bath. We didn’t stay for the second day of Timkat when the Ark is returned to Saint Mary of Zion.
“Well, are you satisfied?” Marco asked as we prepared to board our flight back to Lake Tana.
“Not entirely. It’s hard to believe that the Ark is here and hasn’t been stolen by a half-dozen conquerors over the past two thousand years.”
“Where do you think it is?”
“I’m not sure, but I need to read up on the good Knights Templar. They seem to be popping up everywhere the Ark has been.”
Chapter 7 - Senior Year - The Buzz Williams Era
1968 UCLA Bruins