Adam and Umm Hawa: A Love Story
By Kaaronica Evans-Ware
Excerpts from her book: FIRE AND CLAY
The man and the woman trembled uncontrollably. Their armpits were moist with sweat. Their hearts, which they hadn’t thought about until now, beat wildly in their chests. Hiding in the tall grass, not far from their feet was the thing that had tricked them. The hatred in the thing’s heart had begun to grow a very long time ago, when he first heard the chatter about the new creature and all that had gone into making it. He had gone to the great gates where the figure was propped outside. He had wanted to ignore it—to pretend that it was only a passing fancy soon to be discarded. But he was curious. At first glance he could see that it was too ornate to be easily abandoned. Even sitting lifeless it was unlike anything he had seen before. He lifted stones high in the air and propelled them at the figure. They made a hollow clanking sound, still the figure did not move. The clanking sound perplexed him. What was this thing made of? He flew inside its gaping mouth and out through its anus. It was dark and seemed empty. “Whatever this thing is, surely it is not nobler than me!” he thought. He flew in and out of it several times more to be sure. He raised the form in the air and threw it. When it fell, he struck it. Still it did not move. As he hovered over the empty shell of man, the thing swore that if he was to rule over it he would kill it and if it were to rule over him he would rebel. Thus began the longest war known to man.
2. After a very long time had passed, the assembly was called. The Voice proclaimed, “I will create one to rule the Earth for Me.” The thing cringed and felt its heart sink. Shock first, then sadness, and finally rage washed over it. It knew that soon it would have to make true its vow to destroy the new creation. The thing was not alone in its confusion and disappointment; the whole assembly was puzzled. They called out with barely veiled defiance: “will You create a thing that will make mischief and shed blood?” The heavens vibrated as the Voice bellowed its response, “I know what you know not.”
3. The time had come. The Angels gathered as He blew life into the ornate figure that had so long been still just beyond the gate. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Every other thing He had made with a word, saying unto it “Be,” and all at once there it was. This creature He had fashioned with His own hands, and here He was breathing into it His own spirit! The Spirit fought as it was forced into the clay form. The Voice said, “As you struggle to go in so shall you struggle to come out.” The Spirit journeyed on its reluctant course, and as it did, every dark and lifeless crevice within the figure came alive. Its eyes opened, its tongue moistened, it drew its first breath. Before the Spirit had even reached its waist, the man tried in vain to lift himself up. The Voice seemed to laugh as it proclaimed, “Truly man is made of haste!”
4. When the Spirit reached the limits of the figure it doubled back, flying out the way It had come in, through the nose. The figure was now a living, breathing man struggling to stand for the first time. The Thing emerged in the assembly just at this moment. It was furious. Perhaps it had not seen the kiss of life; perhaps it was this very kiss that had enraged it. Seeing the once hollow shell towering over the assembly was all too much. It remembered flying in an out of its dark insides for millennia. “That thing is empty,” it growled to itself. “It will spend all of its life trying to fill that void inside it. That is how I will destroy it!”
5. How could he bow? It was impossible. The thing had only ever bowed its head to God. Now He was being commanded to bow down before this wretched mound of dirt! Why? How could He ask this? There was not a spot on the earth where the thing had not touched its head in prayer. It had glorified God on every mountain and in every valley. It had hovered over the depths of the seas and pondered the magnificence of Him and His creation. It could not bring itself to bow to any other. It felt humiliated. And now the Voice proclaimed that this man…was to rule the earth. “No! The earth belongs to me! I should rule it,” he thought. They were told to call him Adam. Like the thing and its kind, it had been given the gift of choice. It could obey or disobey. At this moment the thing made of smokeless fire made a choice that could never be undone. Alone in a sea of the prostrated forms of angels stood this jinn—a thing made of smokeless fire—proud and defiant. He pronounced what he had known in his heart for some time—that he would never bow to Adam and that he could only be his enemy. He promised that he would lead him and his descendants on the path of destruction. He swore to lay in wait for them and to attack them from the front and from behind, and to prove that man was a useless and ungrateful servant, certainly unworthy of dominion over the earth. God, who is never surprised, gave him respite to do just that before He cast him out.
6. The Creator does not tire, nor does He sleep. After speaking all the Heavens and the Earth into being, He did not rest. He established Himself on His throne and took in what He had made.
The man that He had made was not so resilient. Every step he took diminished and weakened him. Every breath he drew brought him nearer to his end. Even as he spoke to tell the angels the names of all things, he grew weary. When his task was done he drifted off into blissful sleep. As he slumbered, the One who sleeps not withdrew a piece from him and reshaped it. As Adam returned to awareness and to himself, he felt a form lying beside him. He looked upon it. Nothing he had named was more like him and unlike him at once. Nothing he had named was so beautiful. The Voice rang out again: he was to call her Hawa.
7. The Garden was lovely. The couple lingered in it for a time, savoring each of its delights. One tree alone was forbidden to them. Adam and Hawa were human; perhaps it was only a matter of time until they were circling that tree pondering what it was that made it different. It was large and majestic. Its fruit was well-shaped and looked sweet and heavy with juice. It hung just low enough to be within reach. Why, they wondered, does He withhold it from us? The thing that had been given respite was there too, in the form of a brilliant glimmering snake. Its deep vibrant colors seemed to shift under their eyes. The thing sensed their fascination. It slithered partway up the trunk, then wrapped itself around it and slowly spiraled down. Coiled in the bright green grass at the base of the tree, it raised its head and spoke: “Eat this fruit and eternity is yours.”
8. The thing pondered its fate. Sadness overwhelmed it. It recalled its countless prostrations, its endless ages of worship, its faithful service. Its flickering heartbreak gave way to a blaze of anger welling inside. God tricked me! How could He? He knew I would disobey; he made me noble then told me to grovel before that hollow pile of mud. He wanted me to suffer. He does not love me. He never loved me. It is all His fault. No! It is all the man’s fault. I hate him! Were it able, he would have molded its flame to engulf the man and wife whole and consume them, reducing them to smoldering ashes. But the thing’s fire does not burn quite this way. This attack would have to be subtler. It had to appear as a friend, ally, and companion to the detestable lumps of flesh. In the shape of a snake, its most familiar form, it was free to concentrate on the seduction. The thing focused on the details, the beautiful rolling waves of color along its back, the slither of its tongue as it whispered the word: Eternity.
9. Eternity? The thing began its career of deceit with the greatest of lies. It knew that this particular promise, more than any other, could never be kept. It knew that God had been alone and indivisible for impossible depths of time before He first used the Voice to speak the world into being. The man and wife knew only enough of eternity to desire it. It was little more than a word to them. But the thing had already lived for eons. It had seen the Angel of Death come for many of God’s creatures. It knew that one day its own respite would end and the Angel would come. The thing had once been welcome in the loftiest of assemblies, and it knew many secrets. It knew that with each passing hour the blowing of the horn drew nearer. Indeed it had never been closer. And on that day none would be spared death, even the mightiest of angels would taste it. After the Angel of Death had ended the life of every living creature, every jinn, every angel, the Voice would command it: “Now Angel of Death, Die!” Iblis—the thing made of fire— knew with terrible certainly that eternity was for God alone.
10. The sweet juice of the tender fruit rolled down their lips. Losing themselves for just a moment the couple relished the taste, the feel of it in their mouths, the way it oozed down their insides and left them feeling full and satisfied. Their appetites sated, they only now became aware of themselves again. Awakening as if from a dream, they looked at one another, eyes still wild from the delight of tasting the forbidden fruit. In this moment, they appeared almost as strangers to one another. Made of one flesh, they had, until now, felt more like one soul than two. “What have we done?” For the first time, the man and wife could not look one another in the eye. A powerful new feeling overwhelmed them. Shame. As they averted their eyes from the penetrating condemnation of their beloved’s gaze, they could not help but notice the curves of their bodies for the first time.
11. Suddenly Adam and Hawa noticed that the shimmering snake was still there. It was staring at them with new eyes. Gone were the mystery, passion, and longing in its gaze. It now beheld the man and wife only with cold contempt. Instinctively, the couple shuddered, their flesh crawling ever so slightly. At this, the snake’s icy glare broke. Its eyes narrowed, and the corners of its lipless mouth slowly lifted into a sneer. Wild joy then raced across its face, and it glanced about furtively in anticipation. It was sure it knew what would happen next. Those narrow eyes widened as the Voice bellowed. The Voice repeated the question they had asked themselves: “What have you done?” He interrogated them about their defiance, and their grave error. Iblis saw his own scene of rebelliousness flash across his mind’s eye. Again he was sure that he knew what would happen next. This time he was wrong.
12. Noble, honest, and filled with the deepest regret, Adam and Hawa spoke the truth. With one voice they said, “Oh our Lord! Surely we have wronged ourselves! If You do not forgive us, and show us mercy, surely we will be among the losers.” Their Lord forgave them. Now forgiven, still the Lord cast them out. They were meant to know the Garden, but not to reside in it until after the horn had blown. The Earth was to be theirs, to live for a time, and to toil for a livelihood. Robbed of his vengeance, Iblis began to see that he had underestimated the man and wife. Still blinded by hate, he too was cast upon the Earth, where he swore to continue his war.
13. Awakening again as if from a dream, Adam took in the world around him. It was grey and lifeless compared to the vivid colors and all-encompassing vibrancy of the Garden. For the first time in some time, Hawa was not beside him. He cried out for her. Opening her eyes to the world, Hawa too felt alone and terrified. The man and woman stumbled over dirt, rock, and mud for what felt like an eternity. Desperately calling out in the wild, they finally found one another. This sweet embrace too seemed to last an eternity. Tears poured down their faces like rain, then rain poured over their bodies like a flood. Half-blinded by the downpour, they scrambled for shelter. Soaked to the skin, a breeze sent shivers through them. They felt hunger in their bellies; that emptiness inside them called to be filled. They lamented the loss of the Garden. Their bodies ached with weariness, but more than this, their hearts ached with longing. They longed to hear the Voice again, to feel Him near.
Kaaronica Evans Ware: FIRE AND CLAY