Andrea Merli
Stones of Jordan
2007
Il suffit, par exemple, d’analyser les diverses valeurs religieuses reconnues aux pierres, pour comprendre ce que les pierres, en tant que hiérophanies, sont susceptibles de montrer aux hommes: elles leur révèlent la puissance, la dureté, la permanence. La hiérophanie de la pierre est une ontophanie par excellence: avant tout, la pierre est, elle reste toujours elle-même, elle ne change pas, et elle frappe l’homme par ce qu’elle a d’irréductible et d’absolu, et, ce faisant, lui dévoile, par analogie, l’irréductibilité et l’absolu de l’Être. Saisi grâce à une expérience religieuse, le mode spécifique d’existence de la pierre révèle à l’homme ce qu’est une existence absolue, au-delà du Temps, invulnérable au devenir.
Mircea Eliade, 1965
Wadi Ram, 1932. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Wadi Ram, 1932. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Azem reached out for the jar. The water in the teapot was almost boiling, and the time had come to make it sweet. No less than four spoonfuls of sugar dissolved into the water. Then, he opened a small canister and pulled out a paper bag with dried tea. Curled leaves dropped into the pot. A few more minutes on the fire, and it would be done.
He was staring at the flames, miles away from the desert, when the bubbling water rattled the kettle. Leaning forward, he lifted the teapot and set it on a stone.
The fire flared, breathing fresh air after being relieved of the choking weight of the pot. Some coals crackled. He picked out a small glass from a bowl, rinsed it quickly, and put it on the stone. Then, he filled the glass with the hot, amber drink. Swirling steam lazily climbed through the night air. Azem smelt the flavour, dancing lights and shadows painted on his face. Bedouin whiskey, once again, was ready.
«Any shay around for me?» Azem heard Adnan’s voice approaching from the dark.
His companion’s smiling face appeared on the opposite side of the campfire.
They shook hands, and Adnan took a seat near the bundle of twigs meant to keep the fire alive for a few more hours. All around, the solid silence of the desert filled their ears. A silence unbothered by the wind playing with the heavy cloth of their tent.
Adnan came from Aqaba, where his family had moved years ago in search of better ways to make some dinars. But he never felt at home on the coast, and after a while of running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining hall of a nameless hotel, he resolved to return to the desert. Looking south, he could see the soft gleam of the city lights challenging the black curtain of night.
Azem filled another glass with tea, and passed it on to his friend. Adnan took a sip. Then, stirring the fire with a spike, found a question which had been hiding within him for some time. «So, what’s that pile of stones sitting next to your mat?»”
Azem moved the teapot closer to the fire to keep it warm. «Well, there’s no stone like another. Every piece of rock is different in size, in weight, in colour. And even if two stones belong to the same land, they will never look the same, or fit into the same crevice.»””
He grabbed a stone from behind the bowl. “ «Look at this. What’s it like?»” Adnan was somewhat puzzled, but accepted to play the game. «Well, it’s a little stone, dark and round.»
«That’s all?»
Azem shook the stone, wiped off the desert sand, and held it on his palm. The stone was flat, smooth edged, and half-moon shaped. Its colour was that of rust, streaked with many clear cut veins.
Adnan noticed details for the first time, almost unaware of his growing interest in a piece of desert stone. Azem exposed it to the direct fire light. Circular grooves appeared, like irregular paths of planets around an absent sun. The pattern of veins and grooves recalled the cross-section of a log, or perhaps the ripples around the spot where a pebble drops in water.
Adnan tried to pick the stone from Azem’s hand, but the other was quick
in pulling it back.
«Wait, there’s more.»
He took a bottle sitting next to the bowl and poured some water onto the stone. Suddenly, the rock shone in red. The colour was bright, and the veins looked like fibers in a muscle. Small drops ran along the grooves, hesitated on the edge, and fell on the sand. As Azem turned the stone upside down, its wet surface reflected the fire light and twinkled.
Petra, Tombes Royales, 1928. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Petra, Al Deir, 1928. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Adnan was captured by the changing faces of the stone, and wondered what kind of mineral could produce such evocative effects. As if asked outloud, Azem turned to his friend.
«There’s nothing you’ve never seen before. A stone, a campfire, a bottle of water.»”
«It’s all about how to look at it. And, most important, it’s about how much time you feel it’s worth.»
Petra, Al Siq, 1897. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Petra, Al Khazneh, 1928. École biblique et archéologique de Jérusalem
Adnan emptied his tea while Azem added another twig to the waning fire. «Do you mind if I keep it?» Azem handed the stone to his friend. «No problem, there’s a million all around us, doing nothing but waiting to be found.»
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