The Days of Peleg (87 page)

Appendix B

Essay on the Origin of Races

The following is from one of Shem’s final writings, which he
inscribed during his final years at the library in Kemet.

I
t occurred to me, as we stepped forth from the ark to enter this new world, that all future generations of humanity would be constrained in their physical attributes by the limitations of the hereditary information contained within our family—the eight surviving members of humanity. To be more accurate, only my brothers and our wives would be able to contribute, since our father and mother had passed their time of childbearing shortly before the Great Deluge. Therefore, hereditary characteristics (dominant or recessive) that were not borne by the six of us were now lost forever. Fortunately, the number of variable human characteristics is virtually limitless, both in scope and in degree. Skin-shade, eye-color, head-shape, hair-color, height, eye-shape, and nose-size are but a fraction of the attributes which combine to create a unique, recognizable individual. When one adds to this more intangible and less-readily observed traits (such as longevity, maturation rate, and propensity for adiposity), the combined permutations far exceed the number of people required to saturate the surface area of the planet.

My son, Arphaxad, was the first to be born into this new world, having been conceived during the course of our voyage. As with any newborn, he was scrutinized for physical traits from either his mother or myself, and as he grew into adulthood, we were delighted to see that he had, unquestionably, inherited characteristics not visibly shared by any of us, including—very notably—the chin from his great-grandfather Lamech.

In the following years our growing family settled in the plains and set upon the task of rebuilding civilization. Twin rivers, nearby, reminded us of the Tigris and Euphrates of our old world, and we named them accordingly. Knowing their usefulness in future commerce, we elected to build our first city at their fork, and began establishing the necessary agricultural and construction facilities.

After forty long years, we numbered in excess of two hundred, and had constructed irrigation systems, brick-making factories, and the beginnings of a limestone foundation for our city. Education was an overriding priority as we desperately tried to impart (and salvage) knowledge and crafts from the previous age—all the while attempting to remove the evils and excesses which it so often embraced.

For obvious reasons, there was no attempt to keep the three family lines separate, and the continually growing supply of young people revealed a diversity and variety (both physically and mentally) far beyond what we could have ever hoped for. It was clear that traits which had been recessive within our small family of survivors were still present, and that the current population displayed a random, yet complete range of hair, skin, and eye colors, in addition to the usual differences in height, size, and features.

It was almost fifty years later when rivalries began along family lines and strong leaders emerged, proclaiming the superiority of their parentage over others. Many attempted to trace their lineage along paternal lines, and soon many who claimed to be from Ham’s family began a campaign of power and subjugation.

Unfortunately, the seeds of this division could be found in the mishap my father had incurred many years earlier in an unfortunate bout with wine, and there was a serious desire among many of the “Hamites” to prove the Creator wrong.

It was at this time that our father and mother separated themselves from the rest of humanity; unable to cope with the direction their offspring seemed to have chosen. They had lived through some of the worst of the ancient Family Wars, and it seemed, to them, that humanity was destined to revisit the same paths. Although any impending conflicts would certainly be fought with much more primitive weapons than those used in the antediluvian hostilities, the thought that humanity seemed destined to always repeat its errors was simply too much for them to bear.

Soon, those of us who taught the equality of all men under the Creator and the redemption of His coming Seed were attacked and ostracized; initially by inflaming public sentiment against us, but soon by passing laws which disenfranchised us and eventually by criminalizing any mention of the
Zeh-ra
.

Our new city became a symbol of defiance as Nimrod (the grandson of Ham—and one of the few who was certain of his lineage) claimed kingship and declared that he would lift the people to the heavens with no assistance from the Creator—Who was (he insisted) guilty of the grossest of mass murder and would certainly not refrain from sending a second flood or other calamity should the mood strike Him. A tower reaching up to the heavens would rise above any flood the Creator chose to send, and soon all of humanity was engaged in its construction.

Detractors were imprisoned and forced to work on his tower, and only the confusion of our languages prevented its completion. In the resulting chaos, we managed to flee our captors and find refuge in the mountains of the northwest.

(The population of Babel, at this time, was just under three thousand.)

We lived as hunted animals for many years, and eventually built underground communities for shelter and defense—some excavated from existing caverns, and others carved directly from the earth. During this time, I had little opportunity to pursue anthropological research, but when I returned to visit the newly developing societies some one hundred and twenty years later, I encountered a very different humanity.

Although the varieties of human form were still present, I saw, as we journeyed through the Minoan outposts, that there was a disproportionate percentage of people with light skin and fair (light brown and blond) hair. It was as if the enforced isolation of this population was engendering a form of inbreeding which was relegating the darker tones to a future of obscurity; and if left unchecked, would force them into a recessive state which would be ultimately irretrievable.

(At this point in history, I estimated that the total population of humanity should be approximately ten thousand.)

Upon arriving in Uruk, I was pleased to witness a combination of human features which was more consistent with the variety and diversity that one should expect from a growing, thriving populace. The entire gamut, from the palest to the darkest, was present; and I was somewhat reassured that the pool of hereditary traits was healthy and complete. I did have two concerns, however:

Firstly, I thought I perceived an average reduction in height—as if everyone in Uruk were a few percentage points shorter than average; but I must confess that this is purely anecdotal and relative to my own perceptions—and the fact that I have always been somewhat taller than average.

Secondly, it was becoming increasingly obvious that the attribute of longevity was severely decreasing. Maturation and aging seemed to be occurring at an alarming rate, and it seemed to me that soon, an average life expectancy soon would be cut down to a mere one or two hundred years.

My visit to Ur brought about a new concern. Although a healthy range of skin shades was present, I noticed an almost total absence of light hair. It seemed as if almost ninety percent of the population had dark-brown or black hair, and there seemed a slight disdain for the blond minority—almost as if they were somehow mentally inferior. But my concerns shifted from trepidations over heredity pools to unbelievable dismay as I witnessed something that I had never seen before, or even imagined.

A definite division could be seen within the social fabric of Ur, and in a most unprecedented manner, it appeared to be based solely upon appearance. The population of Ur could easily be divided, visually, into two groups: Tall and short. The majority group was of “normal” height, but a small percentage (approximately eight by my limited observations) was easily a good head taller than myself, and all had the additional traits of unusually large brows and foreheads.

The people of Ur had a separate moniker for them, referring to them as “Mentors”. I knew of this term before arriving, but I was unprepared for the far-reaching social ramifications which I witnessed. I was informed by my traveling companion that they were generally regarded as intellectually superior, and it was assumed that they possessed a longevity far greater than average. I recall being quite horrified at the concept of people dividing themselves along such arbitrary lines of appearance, but I was even more fearful that this expression was a portent of far greater evils to come. Imagine, for example, if entire cultures or nations began to interact, engage in commerce, or even wage wars based solely on external features—features which might arise from the aforementioned inbreeding and cause (in the future) entire communities or civilizations to be identified exclusively by their physical characteristics.

While in Ur, I perceived that I was regarded as something of an enigma since my own brow was instantly classified (by the inhabitants) as belonging to a “Mentor”, but my height, although taller than average, clearly did not qualify. I was unable to study this further, however, since my stay there was brief and my departure rather abrupt.

I spent the next several decades traveling extensively and compiling material for genealogical research, during which time I considered Salem to be my home, yet I availed myself of the libraries and resources of Kemet, which had become quite superior during the passing years.

By the time that the
Amar
was delivered to Abram, more than 430 years had passed since the Great Deluge. My own youth had long since waned, and I chose to retire anonymously in the halls and libraries of Kemet, where I devoted the remainder of my years to placing history and insight into scrolls where I hoped they would be preserved for future minds.

(I would estimate that the total population of humanity at this time was slightly over two-hundred thousand.)

And it was in Kemet where my fears (which I had first entertained during my visits into the far north) were confirmed. In the northern lands, which were populated predominantly by descendants of my brother, Japheth, I had perceived that the percentage of people with fair and light colored skin was disproportionately high. I tried to explain this as an aberration; or as a reaction to the colder environment—but I understood heredity well enough to dismiss this almost immediately. What concerned me more, however, was that the people who lived there seemed to believe a new child’s skin color was determined solely by his or her immediate parents—with no regard for the child’s extended heredity.

This was a concern that Peleg had once, unwittingly, presented to me. Although the offspring of two light-skinned parents should have any complexion (just as two blue-eyed people can have a brown-eyed child) eventually, after multiple generations of exclusively light-skinned parents, the ability to produce a dark-skinned child soon diminishes to the point of impossibility—and may even vanish from the community’s hereditary pool. A direct consequence of the aforementioned ‘inbreeding’.

(Both of Peleg’s parents were fair-skinned, yet Peleg, himself, was very dark—a recessive trait for his family. His children were all much lighter.)

And in Kemet, this fear, as stated earlier, was confirmed. I watched (over the decades) as an entire population lost its ability to produce light-skinned offspring. This was engendered by this inbreeding, and exacerbated by two additional elements.

First, the unprecedented shorter life spans of the peoples in Kemet provided swift “natural selection”, allowing this population shift to occur in a relatively short period of time—unlike anything that could have occurred prior to the Great Deluge.

Secondly, the esthetics of Kemet provided a culture that greatly preferred the rich beauty of dark, ebonious skin over the paler, “less-ripened” (to use their words) tones.

I endeavored to keep from thinking too much on these things, but I was unable to prevent myself from developing additional extrapolations as I spent my remaining years in Kemet.

Would future generations—perhaps two or three thousand years hence—develop a world which believed these divisions to be as absolute as the divisions of height were considered in Ur? Perhaps as absolute as the divisions between kinds?

Would wars or other manner of violence be committed when different population groups felt they were a superior breed: in defiance of the Creator’s decree that all are equal in His sight—and in their dependence upon Him?

Even during the antediluvian Family Wars, enemies were always constrained by the knowledge that they were contending with fellow human beings. If combatants believed their adversaries to be “not fully human”, there is no end to the atrocities that could be committed.

A final thought: If the various population groups remained separated for enough time (with no inter-breeding), would speciation occur—where representatives from one group would no longer be able to procreate with someone from another group? I would estimate that upward of twelve to fifteen thousand years might be required for this, but if lifespans continued to shorten, this might be greatly reduced.

The sad conclusion is this: The human creature, so brilliantly fashioned and designed, has fallen immeasurably since his days in the Garden; deteriorated into a mere shadow of his former glory. His longevity, intellect, and stamina has been stripped from him, and he remains but an inbred, mutated, decrepit, and dysfunctional version of his former self. His memory is lacking, his sensory appreciation is muted, his linguistic acumen is stifled, and even his physical strength and prowess is degenerated. His only hope is in the coming
Zeh-ra
, wherein he can find restoration—in the promise of a renewed, spiritual body which he will receive the moment he discards his current, temporal one.

Shem, son of Noah
Library of Kemet

Appendix C

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