Nefertiti Was Here 2

Jasmina Tesanovic RSS / 10.06.2007. u 17:42

Nefertiti 2
Nefertiti 2

na srpskom, in English

slika/image Uros Velickovic 

Kralj sunca  je bio vrlo bolestan bog: bez obzira na sve  brige svog lekara i čajeve koje je pio i ulja koja je mazao po svom teško deformisanom telu, nije postajao ni tanji ni zdraviji. Naprotiv, glava mu je postajala sve veća i plića: čak i njegova sveta krunisana glava u svetoj vladavini Kraljevstva Sunca, veri u Istinu i Lepotu sve je manje imala veze sa Bogom života bačena na milost i nemilost raspada i haosa.

   Hteo je da je potraži, da je zagrli, da je još jednom povede u svoj krevet, da joj poljubi leđa i kaže da je voli i da je bez nje gotov, možda i mrtav kralj, bez Istine, bez Lepote...

   Poverljivi glasnik ušao je u odaje i duboko se poklonio, a taj gest je značio: nema izlaza. Akenaton je video  sam sebe u svojim mislima: bio je zaista ružan ali još uvek zaljubljen, ona je još uvek bila lepa ali u nemilosti, oboje su bili nemoćni... Da li je imao izbora? Da je spase ili napusti? Da vlada ili beži? Bilo je tuđih vojnika u palati, nije imao izbora. A ona je bila tamo negde napolju, pokušavajući sebi da spase život, misleći ko zna šta o njemu i njegovim obećanjima. Ovo sigurno nije bilo ono što su očekivali od svojih života. Nisu imali nikakvu budućnost u svojim radostima i razgovorima: oni su bili i budućnost i prošlost. Oni su bili istina ali istina se ne može ni promeniti niti falsifikovati. 

Opet je zamislio svoj debeo bezobličan lik, i povijeni  tanak deformisan vrat  .Akenaton tiho izgovari: ja više nisam muškarac.

   Nefertiti luta ulicama Amarne izranjenih i prljavih nogu: nekad kraljica Sunca  a sad    obična seljanka: ona je vetar i prašina, ona je Sunce i Mesec, ona je Ja i Ti, ona je Ona i On... Uzela mu je moć, uzela mu je slavu, uzela mu je potomke, uzela mu je smrt: on više nije bio kralj, ona više nije bila kraljica... Pa ipak je lutala ulicama Amarne, spašavajući svoj život, misleći na njega, na njegovo deformisano telo, na njegov veliki trbuh, debele butine, misleći, on više nije kralj... Nema više istine u njegovom telu, nema više istine u mojoj veri, više ga ne volim... Kada ljubav umre, kraljevine se ruše, glave seku, ljudi postaju gladni-ljuti, deca prljava i gola igraju po ulicama sa divljim i polupitomim mačkama... Da, kad umre ljubav...

    Iako Bog nije imao budućnost, neka budućnost je postojala, kao što uvek i postoji: možda čak i dobra budućnost, i za nekoga drugog, uglavnom za decu: znala je, neka deca umiru, neka te naslede, neka te ubiju, neka te sahrane. To se dešava kad ih imaš više, zato ih i imaš više od nekoliko, više od jednog. Ali neka su sama, jedina i  jedinstvena. To je bio njen slučaj, a  to nije bio slučaj njenih kćeri.

   Ona je imala polusestru Mutđomet, ljubomornu, lepu mlađu sestru koja je bila spremna da menja svet zbog nje i protiv nje, ali je Nefertiti znala da je ona jedna i jedina, izabrana lepotom i sudbinom da ostane živa zahvaljujući samo toj lepoti. To se za ženu smatralo najviše, ali žena zna koliko malo tu ima od ljudskog bića. Negde drugde celo njeno biće mora da nađe sklonište, mesto da se smiri, zauvek, ili, ako imaš sreće, i ako za života puste tvoju lepotu muškarci koji u njoj uživaju ili je zloupotrebljavaju, za tvoje pozno doba, vreme duhovnog života. Ona je sebe čuvala u boci mirišljavog ulja. Njena duša mora negde drugde da traži utočište. Samo stare žene mogu da budu slobodne  u duhovnom životu, slobodne od ženske lepote i muškaraca koji uživaju u njoj, dive joj se i, maltertiraju je.

   Lutajući ulicama Amarne, preobučena u seljanku, bez pola u glavi ili telu, bez lepote osim u sećanju, opipavala je, s vremena na vreme, svoju flašicu mirišljavog ulja: nikad taknutu. Flašica je stara, stara koliko i njena svest o lepoti, još od onda kad je snaga njene lepote ukradena i stavljena i mašinu moći i slave. Još je bila tu, kao i uvek, spram njenog tela, čak i onda kad bi se javno polugola prikazivala da bi prikazala moć lepote. Niko nije mogao da je vidi, bila je sakrivena i otkrivena u isto vreme, bez flaše mirisa ne bi  osećala da je  jeretična ili lepa kao što je bila, ne bi napravila carstvo koje se sada raspadalo, pocepano mnoštvom bogova, izvan nove monoteističke vere Jednog i Jedinog, boga Atona.

   Njena ćerka Meritaton udaće se kako valja, zahvaljujući lepoti svoje majke i kruni svog oca i vladaće kako valja, u skladu sa prosekom  ljudi koji su na vlasti drugim sredstvima mimo božanskih.

  Da, ona je proizvela jednu kćerku kako valja od šest, jednu koju više nikad neće videti da bi ova bila srećna. Meritaton je bila u dalekom Heliopolisu spremajući se da vlada mudro i kako valja, voleći svoju majku istinski ali očajnički pokušavajući da izbegne majčin jeretičan, haotičan put.

  Meritaton je bila spremna da zauzme mesto svoje majke, u krevetu svog oca ako je to  potrebno, ali nije. Otac joj je bio star i umirući, još uvek ga je volela detinjasto kao i svoju majku sećajući se kako su magično izgledali svi zajedno goli dok su šetali i stajali u pozi Sunca i Istine spram kličućih podanika. Blaženstvo porodične sreće: više bi volela da se to nastavi i bez njene majke, sa sestrama, u krevetu oca, to porodično blaženstvo. Jedino blaženstvo koju će ikad imati: ali nije moglo. Imala je zadatog muža da bi spasila živote svoje majke i svog oca, da preobrazi jeretično carstvo bez suviše krvi, da porekne Istinu i Lepotu bez mnogo bola, da povrati laž i sujeverje. Da, učinila je to voljno, znajući da joj otac umire a majka luta ulicama Amarne spašavajući svoj život. Nadala se da će Nefertiti preživeti.

Da li je Nefertiti preživela?

 Bežala i sakrivala se preobučena u seljanku; slobodna od svoje ženske carske moći. Nevidljiva, nepostojeća. Dvorjani Amarne prolaze pored nje i ne okreću se za njom. Priča priče na pijaci deci i za to dobija milostinju za hranu. Žene iz naroda i sluškinje plaćaju joj da čuju njene priče sa dvora, i ne sanjajući da ih sama kraljica prepričava. Žene hoće da znaju o ljubavnom životu na dvoru, kako čuvena gospoda strasno uživaju  u jakim muškim telima i strasnim umovima besnih aristokrata, muškaraca koji se predaju u službi lepote, nudeći sve što umeju i znaju.
  Nefertiti ravnodušno te priče priča. Istina i Lepota njenog muža Akenatona su izvan njihovog dometa imaginacije. Mora da je bilo teško biti on, ranjeni Bog koji se bori za svoju muškost : ne samo da više nije osećala moć Lepote i Istine, već ni svoju žensku moć nije više osećala. Razmišljala je o svom mužu Akenatonu i kako se on osećao, u svojoj muškosti. Razmišljala o raznim svojim ljubavnicima. Osetila se bliska sa svojim mužem i njegovim ženskim telom: bez polne erekcije ali sa mnogo nevidljive erekcije, sa grudima bez mleka, bez malja, sa debelim butinama i nabreklim stomakom bez fetusa unutra. Ali njegova strasna drhtava ljubav prema njegovim ćerkama i prema njoj, to njegovo stanje trudnoće zajedno s njom sve vreme, čak i kad ona nije bila ili je prekidala trudnoću, to osećanje mučnine sa njenom trudnoćom, rastućim grudima dok doji, opadanje kose u postporođajnoj depresiji. Njen ružni muž se pretvorio u ženu iz svoje velike ljubavi i poistovećivanja sa njenom Lepotom i Istinom: kraljice sunca. Ali ona više nije bila žena, pomisli očajna...

   Ko će onda spasiti prošlost? Ko će biti sahranjen kako valja u dostojnoj grobnici, u sred Amarne i sveta da bi predstavljao ideju Istine i Lepote, Jedne i Jedine, Atona za pamćenje, da  se zapamti. Već je lik Nefertiti počeo da se briše na javnim mestima: sa kamena, dekoracija, iz jezika. Nestajala je, i pred samom sobom. Ko će pamtiti smisao njenog bića i njenih dela. Flašica mirišljavog ulja?


   Bez groba, bez mira, bez slave... Ali ona je znala da nije tako: izbrisana iz života i života u Smrti javno, osvojila je ogroman prostor: pustaru, nepoznato carstvo beskonačnih kosmičkih moći: prostor bez života i bez smrti. Njeno carstvo, njena lepota i istina, sakriveni u flaši mirišljavog ulja nisu imali ni početak ni kraj, niti znak ljudskog brojanja vremena niti delanja na zemlji. Bila je Boginja a njeno carstvo znak Boga na zemlji.

Svet će vekovima da luta pustinjama Amarne tražeći tragove njene izgubljene lepote: Nefertiti je ovde živela... Nefertiti je tamo živela, Nefertiti je svuda živela. Njen nikad otkriven grob, njeno nikad pronađeno telo biće izmišljeni, iznova, falsifikovani i stvoreni svuda po svetu, ljudi će da se bore i umiru za trag o njenom životu, za vlas njene kose... Znala je da će iskrsavati predmeti, to uvek biva, kao igračke mrtvog deteta koje više roditelja predstavljaju nego dete.

 Znala je za kip i dopadao joj se. Zatim, računala je na flašice mirišljavog ulja, češljeve,  predmete iz njenih ženskih odaja da će preživeti vreme i nemilosti. Računala je i na tragove svog muža i njegove moćne porodice na vlasti. Takođe je računala i na svoju izbrisanu sliku iz javnog života. Biće svuda i nigde. Neko mora da je udahnuo život Carstvu i šest kćeri, svako će da se pita. Ko je bila ona? Kako se zvala; Nefertiti, Nofretete, čija je bila kćerka, odakle je došla, šta je bilo s njom...

#

The Solar King was a very sick God: notwithstanding his doctor's reassuring
words, and all the teas he drank, and the ointments he spread over his
heavy deformed body, he was neither thinner nor better. On the contrary,
his head was grew ever more swollen, his features shallower. This sacred
head, anointed to the rule of the Sun Kingdom, consecrated to the faith in
Truth and Beauty, went untouched and unhealed by the God of Life and Light.
He was cast into the power of the Death Guardians.

He wanted so to look for her, to take her in his arms, to take her to his
bed once more, to kiss her smooth back and tell her he loved her. Without
her, he was a finished man, maybe a dead King, no Truth, no Beauty...

His trusted messenger entered his chambers, bowing for too long. This gesture meant: no escape. Akhenaten mirrored himself in
his own mind: he was truly ugly now but still in love, she was still pretty
but fallen out of grace, they were both deprived of power... Did he have
any choices? To save her or abandon her? To rule or to flee? There were
alien soldiers in the palace, mercenaries who did not even speak his
language. He had no choices at all. She was somewhere evading her enemies,
running for her life, despising him and his promises of love and safety.
Those shattered expectations of their rule.... Their joys, their
conversations had no future. They had been the truth, and truth cannot
alter or be falsified in past or future.

He mirrors his fat formless image in his swollen head. He bends his thin,
deformed neck. Akhenaten says faintly: I am a man no more.

Nefertiti hides in plain sight, a refugee in the plague-emptied streets of
Amarna: now she is both the Sun Queen and any common peasant woman: she is
the wind and its dust, she is the Sun and His Moon, she is me and you, she
is She and He... She took a King's power, she took his glory, she took his
children, she took his very death away from him: he was a king no more, she
is a queen no more.... She haunts Amarna the royal city, feet blistering,
growing dirtier and thinner, thinking of him, of his deformed royal body,
his big belly, his heavy thighs, thinking, he is a God no more... There is
no truth left to his stricken body. There is no truth to my faith. I do not
love him any more... When love dies, then kingdoms fall, heads are chopped,
people are angry-hungry, children dance nude and dirty in the streets with
wild or half wild cats... Yes, when true love perishes...

Though God had no future, there is always a future. Maybe good fortune,
for somebody else. For the children. Some children die young, some
inherit from you, some murder you, some bury you. That is why a woman must
bear many. But some children are born as solitary beings, only and unique.
Such was her fate.

Nefertiti had a stepsister of her own, Mutmodjmet, a jealous, lively,
younger sister who was ready to change the world for her and against her.
But Nefertiti knew she was One and Only, a woman fated by her beauty to
persist for ages. Beauty was a woman's most-considered quality, but any
woman knows how little female beauty is of a human being. Beauty is a
selfhood contained within a bottle of perfumed oil. Her soul must look
elsewhere for shelter, for a place of rest. Only old women can be freed
for a spiritual life of reflection, a freedom from womanly beauty and the
men who enjoy beauty, adore beauty, harass beauty.

She seeks shelter in the alleys of Amarna, silent, hungry and disguised as
a peasant, no thought of love in her head, no trace of love in her body,
beautiful now only in her own memory. She touched, every now and then,
that small, tight bottle of perfumed oil. Never used, never abused. The
bottle was old, as old as her own awareness of her beauty. She had owned
it before the power of her beauty became the grinding-tool of royal power.
The bottle was still with her on a fine chain, for she always kept it warm
against her body, even when she exhibited herself nude in public. Nobody
seemed to see it then, a precious thing concealed and exposed at the same
time. But without that bottle of perfume, she would never have dared to
become a heretic. She would never had created a realm for the One and Only,
for the God Aten. A realm now falling apart, its sacred Oneness torn by
many Gods.

Her daughter Meritaten was married advantageously, thanks to her mother's beauty and her father's crown. Meritaten hopes to reign in propriety, in
harmony with measure and balance, well-thought of by people, achieving power by
other means than divine.

Yes, Nefertiti produced one proper daughter out of six, a daughter
she will never see again, in order to assure her chance at happiness.
Meritaten was lurking in distant Heliopolis, rehearsing her royal wisdom
and propriety, loving her mother dearly, but desperately trying to avoid
her heretic, hectic ways.

Meritaten was even prepared to assume her mother's place, in her
father's bed, if necessary. The royal bliss of family happiness: the
princess would have dispensed with her mother, with her sisters, to slip
into the bed of her father, to continue this customary bliss. It wasn't
necessary. Her father Akhenaten was too old for that, already
dying. Meritaten loved him still, as dearly as her mother. Dutiful
Meritaten would remember how the family used to pose in Sun and Truth in
front of cheering subjects, all of them lovely and nude together. It was
the only bliss Meritaten could ever know: but it could no longer be. She
accepted an appointed husband in order to save the lives of her family, to
transform the heretic kingdom without too much blood, to deny the Truth and
Beauty without too much pain for the lies and superstition, and to restore
the vulgar mediocrity of popular thought. Yes, she did all this willingly,
knowing that her father was dying, knowing that her mother planned to
vanish forever. Perhaps she hoped that Nefertiti would escape from time
itself.

Did Nefertiti vanish?

Hiding in shabby peasant wrappings, Nefertiti is free from the elegant
power of royal femininity. She is invisible, a nonentity. Courtiers of
Amarna pass her without a second look. She tells tales in the marketplace
to children, in order to eat. Working woman and maidservants will pay to
hear of the doings of the court, little knowing that it is a queen who
tells them. The women want to know of love life in the court, how
glamorous noblewomen succinctly enjoy the hard male bodies and the
passionate minds of ardent aristocrats, men prostrating themselves in
service to beauty, offering every talent...

Nefertiti tells these stories with indifference. The Truth and Beauty of
her husband Akhenaten is beyond their imagination. How must it have felt
to be him, a wounded God struggling to be virile... She felt very close to
her royal husband and his woman's body: with feeble erections but endless
invisible stirring, a god-king with breasts without milk, skin without hair,
with thick thighs and enormous belly which had no babies inside. His
terrible trembling love, for his daughters, for her. Akhenaten seemed
pregnant even when she wasn't, sharing her nausea with her swelling belly,
growing breasts of his own in the lactation period, losing hair from his
head in post-delivery gloominess. Her ugly husband could become a woman out
of his deep love, assuming the Beauty and Truth of a glorious Sun Queen.
But what dismaying price has she paid for that...

Who will rescue the Past, then? Already Nefertiti's royal image was being
cancelled from Egypt's public spaces: hammered and chiseled from stones,
decorations, censored from the language. She was collaborating in her own
disappearance, becoming invisible even to her own self. What Queen can be
buried with proper dignities in Akhenaten's royal tomb, placed in the
spiritual center of the world, a timeless corpse to represent the idea of
Truth and Beauty, of the One and Only, of the Aten? To remember, to be
remembered. Who will remember the sense of her being and her deeds? Who
will bear witness? Can it speak out, this silent bottle of perfumed oil ?

No grave, no peace, no glory... But she was learning to survive: cancelled
out from Life and a public Life in Death, she had silently conquered a
huge space of freedom: a wasteland, an unknown kingdom of infinite cosmic
powers: that of no Life and no Death. No identity. Her own kingdom, her
own beauty and truth, concealed within a hidden bottle of perfumed oil
that had had no beginning and no end, no sign of the human counting of time,
no record of deeds on earth. She was a heretic Goddess and her kingdom all
time and all space.

People will wonder for centuries, for millennia, wander through the
deserts of Amarna searching for the traces of a lost beauty: Nefertiti
lived here... Nefertiti lived there, Nefertiti lived everywhere. Her
undiscovered tomb, her undiscovered body will be invented, reinvented,
forged and created everywhere through the world, people will fight and die
for one clue to her life, for one hair from her head... Relics will appear,
for they always do, as toys of a dead child, cherished more by the
bereaved than by the child who owned them.

She knew about the modelled bust of Nefertiti, and she was happy with it.
Then, she counted also on the survival of many precious royal possessions:
urns, jewels, scrolls, combs, dainty objects from her women's chambers.
She counted on her husband's lasting traces and those of his prepotent
family, long in power. She has also learned to count on her own lasting
absence: a mysterious lacuna, an image painfully erased from public space.
Erased and censored, she will be everywhere and nowhere. Somebody must
have given life to a Sun Kingdom and birth to six daughters, everybody will
think. Who was she? What was her half-remembered name: Nofretete? Whose
daughter was she, where did she come from, whatever happened to her...

Atačmenti



Komentari (18)

Komentare je moguće postavljati samo u prvih 7 dana, nakon čega se blog automatski zaključava

Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 17:50 10.06.2007

gde mi ode post

ima ga kod mene ali ne znam da li ga neko od vas vidi
gordanac gordanac 17:58 10.06.2007

vidim...

Ja čitam, Jasmina.
Tu je.
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 18:01 10.06.2007

hvala gordanac

proveravam ovaj nov softver bit by bit
juce sam htela da postavim belgrade interactive map ali ne moze
objasnio mi je milan novkovic zasto i to je steta
mozda nam restak uslisi molbe

Biljana Maksic Biljana Maksic 00:46 11.06.2007

Re: gde mi ode post

Ja ovo zelim procitati. Kako? Love you.
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 09:21 11.06.2007

Biljana M

knjiga izlazi do kraja meseca
izdanje zenske studije BG, na srpskom i engleskom

Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 17:51 10.06.2007

tu je

izvinjavam se izgleda da prodje neko vreme dok post ne osvane na naslovnoj
Jelica Greganović Jelica Greganović 18:38 10.06.2007

Post se

tek za 10-15 min od kačenja pojavljuje na naslovnoj :)
dracena dracena 20:34 10.06.2007

Kiša

Kiša

Kroz nebeske pore sipaju suze
Liju po duši kao po trgu
Odnose poslednje tragove
Prisustva.

Niz mesečev kolut
Lik posut dragim kamenom
I ljuspama srebra
Cedi se.

Zvuci gitare kao severni vetar
Otkidaju nadu kao zrele trešnje
San po san, pad po pad.
Sveznajuci Sveznajuci 21:32 10.06.2007

Piramide

Danas je izasao lep tekst,u presu u vezi piramida i Egipta,bas zanimljivo...
Mirko Kontic Mirko Kontic 23:57 10.06.2007

Ahkenaton

nije bio ruzhan ali ajde, tu vec upamcenu deformisanost, lakse je tako definisati.
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 09:24 11.06.2007

Mirko

jeste mu bila neobicna bolest
na engleskom je druga rec ( original) ali bez obzira kako se to zove
i u njegovo vreme akenaton je postao nesto drugo od onoga sto se smatralo lepotom
dunjica dunjica 00:31 11.06.2007

Nefertiti piercing

tek danas saznala da ima i to.

NEFERTITI PIERCING
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 09:24 11.06.2007

Dunjice

Sta je Nefertiti piercing
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 09:26 11.06.2007

Re: Dunjice

da vidim, sorry
joj nema vise edit samo delete a ako izbirsem povucicu i ostale, ili ne?
dunjica dunjica 12:00 11.06.2007

Re: Dunjice

mislim da ćeš povući samo ispod, ili čak ni to, nego stvarno tu jednu poruku što želiš brisati. a što ne probaš?
gordanac gordanac 12:05 11.06.2007

jasmina...

...biće obrisan samo taj komentar, evo vežbaj na ovom mom, samo "click" na "obriši" koje ti stoji u levom uglu komentara
Jasmina Tesanovic Jasmina Tesanovic 12:15 11.06.2007

gordanac dunjice..

povlaci sve reply
probala sam na prethodnom bezveznom o cetnicima pa je povukao i moj i snezanin
dunjica dunjica 13:47 11.06.2007

Re: gordanac dunjice..

Što se mene tiče, samo briši, sve s mojim. Ako ti je Nefertiti piercing važan, stavi ga sama gdje ti paše.

Arhiva

   

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