HIC JACET GAZAM – HERE LIES GAZA

 

HIC JACET GAZAM (accusative case)

 

Hic jacet:

Here lies,

Where there was strength, 

Hopelessness,

A redaction of history,

The rendering of an

Abrahamic race,

A pitiless erase.

 

Hinc illae lacrimae,

Where endless tears,

Are a symptom 

Of systematic,

Annihilation,

Blood lust,

Apartheid,

And Genocide.

 

Hoc est bellum

War, 

They cry out,

They celebrate.

A clarion call

To congregate

To justify, to apply

The Beit Knesset lie.

 

Hac lege,

The law,

They declare

To an assembly of 

The dead

In the Beit Lahiya dunes

And ever haunted ruins.

 

Hic jacet,

Here lies,

Amongst the sycamore figs,

Where a father digs,

With dust tears,

And fatigue of life

For a decapitated child

And much loved wife.

 

Hinc illae lacrimae

Searing tears

For the thousands

Of innocents;

And they are:

Starved of love

Of sustenance,

And of deliverance.

 

 

Homo homini lupus,

They, the eretz wolves;

Are voracious,

Sacrificing lambs to deposit,

In the timeless layers:

A knesset of bones,

A charnel house

Of endless attribution

And retribution.

Homo sum,

I am a human being,

Haunted,

Because for Gaza

I can do nothing,

Except with these words

The wolves condemn.

Words, however, for dead children,

Are a useless requiem.

REQUIEM FOR JJ

 

REQUIEM FOR JJ

You'll remember me when the west wind moves

Upon the fields of barley

You can tell the sun in his jealous sky

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked …..in fields …..of ……gold….

 

High, somewhere in the artic shadows of the balcony behind us the singing stopped, not abruptly but with a gradual decrescendo. The song, an unaccompanied and haunting rendition of Gordon Summer’s aka Sting’s ‘Fields of Gold’ had been sung, the memorial sheet informed me, by JJ’s niece, Amy. There followed, a trickle at first then a surge of loud applause. 

 

Gradually the clapping and the echoes ceased and quietness enveloped us again apart from a few rackety coughs escaping into the cold, still January air of the deconsecrated church. A little earlier, outside, at the end of the avenue of leafless chestnut and sycamore trees that corralled me to the former church I had noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign propped up against a headstone in the surrounding cemetery. The grave was that of a former military surgeon under British rule in India.

Inside, the first person to speak at the memorial was John Challmount, JJ's partner in a weekly podcast of political commentary. He delivered a broadsheet obituary of JJ with humour and with genuine affection. Somewhat revisionist, I thought, not recognising some aspects of JJ's depicted life. When he had finished, there was a prolonged burst of applause. Then, again, silence descended. We waited.   

 

After what seemed an age but in essence a minute or so, a tall, elegant, blonde-haired woman stood up from the front pew and after uncoiling to her full majestic height and adjusting the hem of her dress made her way, cat-like, across the silent void of the transept towards the lectern. Karen, the woman, was JJ’s partner.  Her gait was determined, her high stiletto heels tapping out a distinct beat on the unpolished stone floor. She wore a black cocktail dress that just about reached her knees, and which was tailored asymmetrically to showcase her most alluring shape, a shape I had once so lusted after and loved.

 

On reaching the lectern Karen hesitated for a moment to run her finger along the rim of an amber-coloured, antique Japanese cremation urn that sat on a low table towards the centre of the apse. Leaning against the table facing towards the audience was a large, silver framed black and white picture of a smiling JJ, his ever bright louche eyes dominating the composition. On the mount of the picture below the rugged unshaved chin were four stark lines of Palatino typeface: 

 

Jerome Joseph (JJ) Mulligan,

1964 -2024,

sub ortu solis,

RIP.

 

The old church seemed to rattle, in sympathy almost, as an increasingly bitter east wind howled through the headstones in the cemetery – a motley mixture of Celtic crosses and plain limestone and granite slabs – and gnawed at the old and warped Gothic revival windows of the building, unadorned except for plain, multiple panels of diamond-shaped stained lead glass: no attributions, no remembrances, no Great War heroes venerated. Behind me there appeared to be a constant battle to close the doors against the wind as they crashed open with the arrival of every latecomer and even when closed there remained a constant plaintive whistle through the gaps of ages.

 

Karen turned to face us. She rested her forearms on the lectern, her fingers lightly gripping the edges. Looking out over the audience she remained there, statute-still for a moment until suddenly she gently smiled, nodded her head slightly in the direction of the urn and then in a strong, steady and precise voice began,

 

“Thank you all for coming to remember JJ. As some of you know this building was one of his last magnificent projects. He had bought the old church on a whim with every intention of converting it but then ran out of both patience with the planners and money and put it back on the market again.” She paused to look around the building before continuing, “That was almost 5 years ago and as you have realised by now has not been heated for probably much longer than that.”

 

From the audience, a mixture of people wearing real and faux mink, tailored Crombie’s, worn Tayto-smelling duffle coats and designer-label, artic expedition, insulated jackets there was an outpouring of laughing agreement accompanied by real but exaggerated displays of shivering.

 Karen, who was wearing next to nothing, laughed as well but then went on,

 

“To quote Tom Cruise in the film The Last Samurai and forgive me here but JJ knew how much I loved Tom Cruise, where Algren, Cruise’s character, said about his captor and friend Katsumoto when answering the Emperor’s request to Algren to tell him how Katsumoto had died. ‘I will tell you how he lived’, Algren had replied.”

 

Karen released her grip on the lectern to push back an intruding lock of hair from her forehead,

 

“…And so, I will.”

 

I thought from where I was in the third row of benches I caught her eye but then realised she was engaging everyone and no one in the audience. She used no notes as she spoke,

 

“JJ was an insatiable addict,” she began, matter-of-factly. “An alcoholic, a gambler, an adulterer, a serial drunk and sex addict who retained no memory-of or no attachment-to the last bottle polished-off, to the last horse bet upon or to the last woman, and occasionally man, screwed…..”

 

Down the aisles there was a collective sharp intake of breath which, when I turned briefly to sneak a curious look, was then being expelled in short bursts. Like the wet-blanket warning signals of a Plains Indian you could see these exhalations rising up in small clouds of condensation through the apologetic January light that filtered into the building.  

 

Karen resumed,

 

“I am so happy that many of you are here,” she said without any hint of sarcasm or condemnation. “From early on JJ recognised that he had a choice, to be a functioning addict or a shambolic one. He chose the former and thus could navigate blindfold to the local off-license, bookies and STI clinic; each place of course keeping their own meticulous records of the excesses of being JJ. Because he could function so effectively JJ was able to sustain, firstly, an admired career in the civil service and academia and more lately as a sought-out freelance political and social commentator. Because he could function so effectively, in what must be admitted was an absolute state of denial, JJ, in addition to his bottles, betting slips and lovers, had acolytes, had students, had bosses, had friends, had some enemies, had a current driving licence, a roof over his head, any number of rescue dogs along the way and a lifelong partner…. me.”

 

The collective breathing of the audience became quieter, reflective, the sense of cold easing perhaps with individual memories of better, sun-filled days. Karen sensed this weather change and her tone became less strident and more intimate. She continued,

 

“As some of you here know, along the way I also had my dalliances. Not as a revenge for JJ’s wanderings but as a necessary distraction from the chaos that often accompanied him. Weird to say but I was seeking not an escape or alternative but more often a sense of normality for a moment in time where a shared sense of tenderness, of exploration, of adventure could be a salve, or even a salvation.” Karen’s gaze wandered over the by now fog-bound pews. “I so want to thank,” she stressed.  “Mainly on my behalf but also in truth on JJ’s behalf, those of you who facilitated and for the kindness shown to me.” 

 

From certain sections of the audience the exhalation condensations now imitated the old Flying Scotsman steaming northwards at full pelt on a Lothian track.

 

“A short life,” Karen went on. Her voice had lowered its volume making it somewhat difficult to hear. Using the app on my phone I dialled my hearing aids up a notch. Also, I thought, a slight look of an annoyance appeared to crease her otherwise timeless face. “A too short life it must be said. Far too short!” she emphasised. “Too much left undone, too much left unsaid. For those of you here who do not know JJ died from liver cancer, 5 months from diagnosis but 40 years in the making.” 

 

Karen stopped speaking for what seemed an age but then gripping the lectern very tightly, she regained herself and her purpose. “My dearest JJ, I loved you so much. But now sweetheart the shimmering is over and the gossamer threads that linked you to our reality, all reality really, are sundered and you are at peace. We all are at peace. Thank you all."

She exhaled deeply but then added,  "I’d like you to come back to the house for tea and buns and more lethal stuff to warm you up.” As she stepped away from the lectern she rested her hand on the urn once more.

 

For a moment there was an intense silence in the old church, a black hole of intensity, sucking any background and foreground noise into a vanishing point. But then a single rhythmic clap near the rear of the chapel began and awakened a loud collective surge of applause and some nervous laughs as Karen made her way back to the front pew.

 

Agitated, I stood up suddenly as I was determined to make my way to her as quickly as possible, to be the first to offer condolences. As I reached her, she appeared lost in thought. I touched her bare shoulder. She looked up but seemed discomforted somewhat, I thought, by the intrusion. An unwelcome touch perhaps, I thought.

 

“Rod,” she said kindly as she took my hand in both of hers. There was no sense of warmth. She stood up and allowed me to lean forward to kiss her cheek.  “A surprise but I am glad you are here. It also saves me a great deal of unwanted trouble tracking you down.” Her tone was not cold but pragmatic.

 

“Karen, I am so sorry,” I began then stopped short. “What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

 

She leant forward and whispered in my ear, “Of all our friends JJ despised you the most.” 

 

“What …. why”, I stammered, caught completely off guard by the comment.

 

She pulled back to look at me. Through a fixed smile she spoke quietly out of earshot of the people behind, “Because JJ knew that of all my “distractions” the only man I ever loved, besides him, was you. He knew that if you had asked me back then I would have gone anywhere with you and as a consequence of course, away from him. He hated you for creating that possibility,” she said bluntly. Karen held me in a direct stare as she released my hand to wipe off a smudge of her lipstick from my cheek. “But then Rod, you never asked me…did you?” she accused as she cleaned.

 

“I …I   ….” I stuttered, red faced, putty.

 

“Anyway,” she continued as she leant in again to whisper in my ear. “JJ has left specific instructions for you to dispose of, bury, enshrine his ashes in any way you see fit. His final revenge or forgiveness perhaps. In any event call up to the house tomorrow and we can sort some of the details.”

 

I could sense agitation in the queue gathering behind me. Forced coughs and shuffling brogues. I was poleaxed. 

 

Karen smiled, “I am out of here Rod. Where the departed JJ ends up is of no real concern. I was here for the living not the dead. I am now selling up, leaving to live with the most wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, unique woman I know and who incidentally, also has loads of male admirers that need tending to. So, if you don’t mind, excuse me now as I must give my attention to the other guests. I will talk to you tomorrow. Say 11am?”

 

And the Karen I once loved, brushed brusquely past me, the scent of Oud wafting behind her, not waiting for my answer. Stunned by the brutal dismissal I lingered to look at the bloody urn on its pathetic little table and the Mona Lisa-like eyes of the picture that were following me. "You bollox," I accused, him and me.

 

“Rod, how’s it going mate?” I turned to see JJ’s Australian brother-in-law Shane, father of Amy, rounding Karen and coming towards me. He had aged. “You look as happy as a bastard on Father’s Day,” he grinned.

“Hi Shane,” I managed. I found his acquired outbackness annoying. “Amy sang beautifully,” I added, truthfully.

“Did she tell you?” he asked.

“Did who tell me what,” I grumbled defensively.

“Karen of course! JJ wanted you as executor of his will.”

Taken aback I tried to hide my surprise. “What? No. Karen only mentioned that I had to find a place to bury him,” I said harshly.

“Hah! Forget that mate. She’s pulling your wire, you drongo!” he announced with glee. “Look around you Rod. This place came with a crypt, you are already standing in JJ’s mausoleum.”

 

“Fuck me dead,” I mumbled, imitating him.

 

Behind us, at the back of the church, the “For Sale” sign suddenly clattered in through the open doors, driven in by what was now a snow laden gale. In the rafters Amy began to sing again, yet another song by Sting,

 

Every breath you take

And every move you make

Every bond you break

Every step you take

I’ll be watching you……………

RIHLA (Journey 76): AMNISSOS, CRETE – FINDING EILEITHYIA: IN SEARCH OF THE DIVINE MIDWIFE (Kourotrophos)

 

Rihla (The Journey) – was the short title of a 14th Century (1355 CE) book written in Fez by the Islamic legal scholar Ibn Jazayy al-Kalbi of Granada, who recorded and then transcribed the dictated travelogue of the Tangerian, Ibn Battuta. The book’s full title was A Gift to Those who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Travelling and somehow the title of Ibn Jazayy's Rihla of Ibn Battuta’s travels captures the ethos of many of the city and country journeys I have been lucky to take in past years.

Bronze of Eileithyia

c. 490 BCE

British Museum

Eileithyia, you free from pain
Those in terrible distress.
Upon you alone pregnant women call,
O comforter of souls,

And in you alone is

Relief from pains of labour.

Orphic Hymn 2 tp Prothyraia

c 3rd c BCE

(trans. Athanassakis & Wolkow)

Stele showing votive offerings being brought to Eileithyia from Echinos in Lamia Museum

EILEITHYIA ON MY MIND

The earliest form of the name Eileithyia is the Mycenaean Greek 𐀁𐀩𐀄𐀴𐀊, e-re-u-ti-ja, written in the Linear B syllabic script. Ilithyia is the latinisation of Εἰλείθυια. (Wikipedia Accessed 02/07/2024)

As an Obstetrician & Gynaecologist it was midway through my career before I encountered Eileithyia, as a very specific Greek goddess of parturition or the labour part of childbirth. But once met she has provided a compass to some of my journeys in Greece.

Most of these journeys were solo but some, with increasing pleasure, were shared. In recent years my grandson has joined my wanderings and this rihla is about aparticular journey, in the company of my grandson, to her home in Crete.

CRETAN GEOLOGY AND MYTHOLOGY

Prompted by the clash of two tectonic plates the Cretan landmass as we know it was pushed skywards from the floor of the para-Tethys sea about 20 million years ago. This seismic movement ultimately created the white capped limestone midden (sea shells may be found on Mt Ida at 2,456 m) mountains of Crete, mountain ranges that when submerged were once part of a greater midden ridge that stretched from the Dinaric Alps in northern Slovenia, through the Balkans and towards the Taurus mountains in southern Anatolia.  
 
Cast adrift from the remainder of the European platform during the late Miocene (5.3 million years ago [BP - Before Present]) the predominant Cretan geological layers are those of crystalline and platy limestone rock; the gradual erosion of which by water has created a distinct geology, as well as enabling a unique cosmology and mythology on the island. 
 

Crete, as an island, however existed in relative isolation from human societal development and migrations, even during the neolithic age when permanent communities were being established all over the Mediterranean world. There is some archaeological evidence of Middle/Upper Palaeolithic (300,000 BP – 11,650 BP) human presence and stone tool use in Crete, dated to 160,000 BP, that supports a controversial hypothesis of very early nomadic seafaring hominin hunters landing, hunting, but not settling on Crete, at a time much earlier than sea navigation thought possible. The stone tool findings at Plakias (dating from c.130,000 - 700,000 BP) on the south coast and more importantly the later rock art at the Asphendou Cave in SW Crete depicting the long-horned, short limbed Candiacervus ropalophorus deer which became extinct on Crete (hunted to extinction!) in the late Paleolithic of c. 21,500 BP support this early, opportunistic but transient nautical hunter hypothesis.

More permanent homo sapiens settlement in Crete had to wait until the Final Neolithic (c.10,000 - 3,000 BP, on cusp of Bronze Age) but even today archeological evidence of a significant early or mid-Neolithic occupation of Crete is rare. Only one significant Neolithic site on Crete has been identified and this is at Knossos and is dated to approximately c.7,000 BP. Full occupation and settlement of the Island did not occur until a second inward migration at end of Neolithic and the subsequent establishment of the Minoan peoples in c.3100 BP. This development resulted in Europe's first great civilisation 1000 years later.

With the establishment of a Minoan society and “religion” caves became an integral part of the foundation myths. Even today caves are embedded in the Greek psyche in general and the Cretan psyche in particular. Underpinning this assessment is the fact that there is a dedicated Ephorate of Palaeoanthropology and Speleology (the study of Caves) at the Ministry of Culture in Athens and to date about 4,500 caves and sinkholes in Crete have been mapped. Of these 36 thus far have been identified as cult sites with twelve of those specifically dating to the Minoan period 3100 – 1075 BCE.

 

Two of the most important Minoan cult or sanctuary cave sites inCrete , are dedicated to Eileithyia, the pre-eminent Cretan Goddess who began mythological and religious life as a possible pre-Minoan, Anatolian or Levantine earth-mother figure of the late neolithic groups who migrated into Crete and subsequently remained being venerated by the evolving Minoan society.

 

As an aside, I have also visited Çatalhöyöük and Göbekli Tepe in Turkey and in Çatalhöyöük the mother goddess looms large in this 7,000 BCE society and whose building style and use of mosaics are not that dissimilar to the Minoan development 5,000 years later.

Carved standing stones in temple complex Gobekli Type c. 8000 BP

[For a take on the impact of mother goddesses on the mythology of societies, for an Irish context, see: http://deworde.blogspot.com/2016/03/rihla-journey-57-quays-to-connemara.html]

Later Eileithyia was also adopted by the Mycenaeans following their takeover in Crete and in the 5th – 6th Century BCE her cult moved northwards to the mainland and into the Archaic Greek pantheon, her popularity in part promoted by her inclusion in Homer’s Iliad of c.8th C BCE as the goddess of parturition or childbirth. Homer called her mogosókov (moyodokos) “the goddess of the pains of birth” in the Iliad (Hom II. 16:187).

In the Olympian religion following her “import / migration” from Crete the veneration of Eileithyia soon marginalised Artemis as a primary and exclusive“midwife” goddess in the 5th century BCE to enter into a duality of purpose with Eileithyia Artemis, their mother Hera (who protected the labours of married couples only), and later Hekate. It was convenient to repurpose the role of Artemis, who although was an Archaic mainland goddess of childbirth was also seen as the a “virgin” killer of women. In Crete Artemis was seen as a goddess protecting the newborn and as a consequence of the arrival of the cult of Eileithyia to the mainland Women women in labour in Athens, Corinth or Sparta from the 5th C onwards then had the option of praying to Artemis for her not to kill them in labour and to Eileithyia to protect them in labour and to eease their pains.


In the evolution establishment of Eileithyia’s cult of in mainland Greek religion and society the temples of Eileithyia however, where they existed in isolation and not shared as in Delos , and Sparta, were always, it seems to me, located on the periphery of cities. In Hermoine, Argos, Corinth and Megara they were sited at the city gates, as far from the centre that you could get. Exceptions, for example, were a dedicated central or main town temple in Teos in Ionia and in Leto in Crete, which is a post-Minoan city. They The peripheral temples generally did not have dedicated  “priestesses” , one of the rare exceptions being the sanctuary at Hermoine in the southern Argolis. Veneration and the bringing of votive offerings to the sanctuaries was a private experience. 

In many places a sanctuary of Eileithyia was shared. A particular example of this was the combined temple of Eileithyia and Sosipolis (her son) in Olympia. This was an anta type with an outer pronaos which was dedicated to Eileithyia and was public, and an inner and bigger naos which was dedicated to Sosipolis, which was private and served by priestesses. In the service of Eileithyia at Agrai there were two Errhephoroi but they were working out of the Temple of Dionysos and this was also the situation in the Temple of Athena Polias on the Akropolis.


Whether temples or caves the veneration of and the bringing of votive offerings to Eileithyia tended to be a very private “female” or “familial” experience with families offering votive offerings to Eileithyia for the safety of their daughters in labour. In Crete it was caves that generally fulfilled that detached, private sanctuary purpose.

The most important caves are located at Amnissos on the north coast and at Tsoutsouros (ancient Inatos) on the south coast of Crete. As a former obstetrician it was fairly late in my career before I decided to investigate Eileithyia as a specific Greek goddess of parturition or the labour part of childbirth.

Eileithyia supervising birth of Athena from Zeus' head

DELOS AND BEYOND – EILEITHYIA: OLDER THAN TIME

‘The Lycian Olen, an earlier poet, who composed for the Delians, amongst other hymns, one [was dedicated] to Eileithyia and styled her “the clever spinner”, clearly identifying her with fate, and this makes her older than Cronos.’

Pausanias
Description of Greece 8:21:3 c. 160 CE


My first encounter with the cult of Eileithyia was many years ago on the island of Delos. Escaping the bedlam of Mykonos, a 35 minutes boat trip takes you into a magical time-capsule of a now uninhabited place that as the home of the Delian League ( c.478 BC) was at the very centre of the Greek commercial world.


“When at length Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth, had brought him to the light, and he saw the rays of the sun.”

Homer: 

The Iliad 11: 189 (c.800 BCE)

Delos and the Delians had an extraordinary reverence for the myths and cults associated with childbirth, particularly those of Apollo and Artemis who were born there, their mother Leto and of Eileithyia who assisted in Leto’s labour by initiating the delivery of the divine twins. The Delians considered Eileithyia a Hyperborean and older than Kronus, the Titan father of Zeus. In antiquity Kronus was often confused with Khronus, or personification of “time”. In mythology Eileithyia was tricked into escaping the censure of Zeus’ wife Hera (Eileithyia’s own mother and also a divine midwife) who hounded Leto unmercifully and impeded her labour, and finally arrived in Delos, touched Leto and put an end to her nine- day labour. In modern obstetrics Eileithyia’s intervention in Delos would be similar to giving a woman oxtyocin to overcome a dysfunctional labour and ensure the contractions became effective. There is no reason to suppose that the “divine” midwife did not employ the same therapeutic interventions as her mortal Cretan midwives or healers. In helping Leto Eileithyia’s midwifery skillset may have incorporated the use of pomegranate juice as an oxytocic and perhaps a tincture of Cretan dittany to use the pain of her contractions. Eileiythyia’s part in his Apollo’s eventual delivery ensured that her sanctuary was became an integral part of the main Apollo temple, whereas Artemis and Leto had their own.

Looking NNW beyond ancient city of Messene towards slopes

of Mt Ithome, Messinia, Greece

“The Messenians have a temple erected to Eileithyia with a stone statue.”

Pausanias

Description of Greece 4.31.9

 

Temple of Eileithyia (?Demeter)

Mt Ithome, Messinia, Greece

Sometime later in the summer of 2022 my next encounter with Eileithyia was a small ruined temple with an altar pillar near back wall half-way up Mt. Ithome (named after one of the nymphs who raised Zeus when hidden from his father), the mountain that rises up above the ancient city of Messene in SW Greece. It lies about 150 meters to the north of a narrow track that originates beside the bigger temple complex of Artemis-Limnatis (Lady of the Lake or waters) on the mountain. The temple was mentioned by Pausinias although some recent work by Maria Spathi suggests it might have been dedicated to Demeter, the Goddess of fertility instead.

Temple of Eileithyia - Sosipolis Olympia, Greece

Thereafter in 2022 I travelled to see the dual temple of Eileithyia-Sosipolis on north side of Kronion Hill in Olympia and the following day, after crossing the Rio-Antirro bridge beyond Patras, my grandson and I went to Delphi. I had also intended going to see the Hygeia-Eileithyia altar which is part of the Temple of Athena Pronaia complex on a plateau to the east of the Delphi sacred complex but after climbing up to the Delphi stadium in 38 degree heat we were fairly exhausted by the time we reached the entrance again. The small altar will have to be seen another day.

Temple complex of Artemis Limnatis

Mt Ithome, Messinia, Greece

Finally, again in the summer of 2022, having left Thermopylae ( see: http://deworde.blogspot.com/2022/08/rihla-journey-75-thermopylae-greece.html) I stopped on my way to Larissa and in a small but perfectly presented museum in the acropolis castle of Lamia there was a wonderfully detailed 4th century BCE carved stone stele ( see below) of a votive gift being given to Artemis-Eileithyia from the Eileithyia sanctuary in ancient Echinos in Thessaly. The carving charmed me and it was the subsequent use of a picture of the stele to designate the obstetrics and gynaecology teaching material on our university teaching platform that prompted me this summer to head for Crete to search for Eileithyia’s own birthplace and sacred sanctuary at Amnissos on the north coast.



EILEITHYIA: FROM WHENCE SHE CAME?

“So he anchored his ships at Amnisus [Amnissos], where there is a cave of Eileithyia, in a difficult harbour, and barely did he escape the storm.”

Homer

The Odessey 19:188



“Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit”

James Joyce,

Ulysses 14: Oxen of the Sun



Eileithyia has been with us through the ages. She is a Cretan deity primarily but as to her origin there is some disagreement about the etymology of her name. Whether the name has an pre-Indo-European, Indo-European or Semitic root remains unclear. The Minoan language is still unclassified because neither Cretan hieroglyphics or Linear A have been deciphered satisfactorily. A later (c.1800-1500BP), transitional Eteocretan language that bridged pure Minoan with Mycenaean proto-Greek, although available in a few inscriptions in early Greek alphabets, also remains unclassified even if it is a direct evolution of Minoan.

The name of the goddess in a decipherable script and language first appears on clay tablets from Knossos c. 1000 BCE listing offerings to the goddess where she is named as e-re-u-ti-ja [Eluthia] which scholars agree is the same as Homeric Greek Ειλείθυια. Interestingly she is mentioned 4 times in clay tablets found at Knossos (Tablets Od 714, 715 & 716) and in three of the instances her name is linked with wool.



In Greek the name, EILEITHYIA ( Ειλείθυια) is thought to derive must likely fromthe root ελεύsmai “to come”. The Cretan equivalent is  “to bring”, or finally the root “to liberate” as in "to liberate” from pain. Simone Zimmerman Kuoni points out that a specific epithet of Eileithyia is that of “she who loosens the girdle” impeding a difficult childbirth. In rural Greece and Crete ela, ela ,[ ela, ela], “come, come” is still used as an exhortation to help deliver a mother in labour.



In terms of a key sanctuary location for Eileithyia, a court of appeal as it were, of the most important “deity” that would ease a woman’s birthing process for Homer’s Odessey it was a cave on the coast in Crete. For James Joyce this divine “midwife”reference was repeated in Ulysses when it was the deity that was Andrew John Horne and his “house” was the National Maternity Hospital ( then located at site of William Roe's short lived maternity hospital at No. 32 Holles St.) where he was master. 

 Many of the cult places in Crete started Neolithic life as secondary burial places which then over time evolved into sanctuaries.



Eileithyia in mythology, however, was not all sweetness and light (even she was considered a lunar goddess bringing light) however. Her mother Hera held sway over her as a master would an apprentice particularly when dealing with the births of the bastard offspring of the mortal mistresses of her husband Zeus. Dispatched by Hera to prevent Alcmene’s delivery of Heracles and his twin Iphicles [ Heracles and Iphicles were a case of heteropaternal superfecundation where a woman carries twins with different paternal genes i.e. a cycle with two eggs where pregnancy occurs after receiving sperm from two different episodes of intercourse with different partners] she prevented her cervix from dilating, letting Alcmene writhe in pain with the contractions. As it was twins, from an Obstetric perspective, the most likely cause of this obstructed labour was perhaps Eileithyia performingan external manipulation of the first coming twin so that it was lying transverse and thus impacted at the entrance to the pelvis. She was ultimately tricked by Galinthias, Alceme’s maidservant into releasing her hold and first Iphicles and then Heracles were delivered. Subsequently Galinthias was turned into a weasel for defying the will of the Gods and in Crete in particular thereafter mustelids were always associated with the Eileithyian sanctuaries and childbirth in general.Cretans call weasels kalogennousa or “she who births easily/well” an obvious link to the purpose of Eileithyia.



Childbirth in Bronze Age Crete was dangerous with high maternal mortality rate from haemorrhage, sepsis, hypertension and thrombosis. The estimate would be about 1500 maternal deaths / 100, 000 live births. The current rate in Ireland is 6 / 100,000 live births. Prolonged and difficult labours were the worst outcome of all with perhaps a stillborn baby delivering after a 3-4 day labour and the mother dying shortly afterwards. The need for a protective deity was manifest. The votive offerings deposited in Amnissos and Inatos caves are testament to this. Eileithyia is depicted on an amphora from Tinos with a tool of her trade, a sickle-shaped harpé knife in her hand most likely for cutting the umbilical cord or perhaps doing a caesarean section.

 Votive offerings Heraklion Archeological Museum

Wreaths offered to Eileithyia ( and perhaps also the depicted hair bands) were usually of dittany (hop marjoram) origanum Dictamnus which grows will only on the mountainsides of Crete. Sacred to the goddess dittany pharmacological properties include, as a result of the essential oil Carvacrol (60 – 80%) it contains,anti-septic and anti-spasmodic properties. In ancient times dittany was difficult and dangerous to collect on the high mountainsides like Mt Ida and the harvesters who pursued this dangerous line of work were considered passionate (or mad!) and were known as erondades or love seekers. As an aside in Delos Eileithyia was considered the mother of Eros, the Greek God of love and sex.



THE CAVE OF EILEITHYIA AT AMNISSOS

Old fig tree at Cave of Eileithyia, Amnissos, Crete

Having deposited the remainder of the family to enjoy the sun, sand, wind and sea of Arina Beach my grandson and I headed towards Heraklion on the old national road that hugs the coast. Turning left and ducking under the new National Road at Karteros we drove south for 100 meters before taking a sharp right turn ( there is a signpost for the cave) up the hill that overlooks ancient Amnissos. 

The fig tree at Eileiythia Cave, Amnissos, Crete.

Karteros river ravine to right.

Stopping at a bend in the road that circled around a goat farm to take in the view, below us to the north of the national roads the Paeleochora Hill dipped into the sea at the site of the ancient harbour of Amnissos, which Home said was a “difficult” harbour. On the west side of this hill you could just make out the site of the 6th century BP temple of Zeus Thanatas and on the east side, more obscure to our vantage point, the archaeological site of the 1500 BP “naturalistic style” Minoan “House of the Lilies”.

My grandson at entrance to Amnissos Cave

The Eileithyia Cave was again signposted around the next bend but once we parked the car and wandered onto the escarpment the cave or a route to the cave was not immediately obvious. The signpost pointed towards the Karteros river ravine below us, a river that arises in Mt Ida but to all intents now for the main a dried out stream its course built over in many places. In ancient times it was known as the Amnisos River and there were Naiad nymphs associated with the river known as the Amnisiades who were the virgin handmaidens to Artemis/ Eileithyia.

Votive "birthing" from Inatos cave on south coast of Crete

in Heraklion Archeological museum

Scanning the rocky plateau in the direction of the goat farm I followed a little worn path towards a solitary tree. I had seen a picture of a fig tree beside the cave on the internet and supposed this was it. It was. The trunk of the tree was planted in a rocky hollow about 1.5 m deep and beside it was an iron gate, open, hanging on forlornly on only one of it’s hinges. We clambered down steps into the entrance and peered into into the darkness. I had a torch with me and the cave is reasonably deep. It measures 64.5 m long, 9 – 12 m wide and 3-4.5m high. About 3 meters into the cave there is a large, central worn stalagmite known as vetylos, a worship stone that was thought to represent the female figure of Eileithyia and a smaller flattened rock in front of it that was supposed to be a votive altar. 

Two other cylindrical stalagmites are thought to represent either a mother and child or more appropriate a woman giving birth with midwife standing behind supporting her in the traditional way. This cave was accepted as the birthplace of Eileithyia to Hera. The locals also called it the Neraidospilios or a Fairy or Nymph Cave (sea nymphs specifically).

From the finds deposited in Heraklion Archaeological Museum (not possible to see at present as three or four of the exhibition spaces on second floor of otherwise very good museum are closed for renovation) votive offerings in the sanctuary extended from the Neolithic to the late Roman. I felt as you often do in caves to be in a womb of the earth, a womb where ancestral memories are nurtured and protected. By their very nature they seem sacred and even if not part of a sacred landscape the drip, drip of water depositing calcium to form the stalagmites and stalactites and hollowing out the earth to allow the water drift away seemed timeless.

The vetylos in Eileithyia Cave , Amnissos, Crete

I was reminded of this type of memory and another day long ago in the magnificent Hoq cave on Socotra Island where a stalagmite close to the entrance, with far more definition, was known as Genghis Khan but whose walls and floors were marked with the graffiti of the early Indian ocean sailors, navigators and merchantsof the ancient world in diverse languages from Palmyrene, to Bactrian to Ancient Greek. Many of these sailors would have been transporting devil’s blood and rock frankincense resins from Socotra ( often used to fumigate rooms where mothers had delivered) to the market places of the Mediterranean including Delos where Eileithyia was venerated.

Modern understanding of the endocrinological signalling of labour

(CR Mendelson, AP Montalbano, L Gao. 2021 J Steroid Bio Mol Biol 170: 19-27) 

Modern understanding of parturition and the signals that initiate and maintain labour are still not fully understood. Nor the timing or the location fully elaborated or controlled. The most earnest hope for individual women, their partners, their parents, their midwives and obstetricians is that delivery can be achieved safely for the mother and child.

After leaving I sat outside the cave for a while in the bright sunshine with my grandson, and the sudden thought came to me as to the real reason we were sitting there on that hot June morning. I remembered that his mum went into a precipitate labour and that younger brother was delivered (not intentionally!) at home by his father (my son), with his grandfather (me) supervising and that he at seven years of age, awakened in the early hours by the commotion, being sent off to the kitchen to get a scissors and twine to cut and tie the umbilical cord.



Yes indeed Eileithyia: a cave of memories, shared endeavours and a deep, deepappreciation for a safe passage into and beyond this life.



Éla, Éla ; come , come into the light.

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