Episode 45 – Drag Me to Hell – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 45 Show Notes

Source: Sumerian Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re covering a super-old story because you asked for it. You’ll learn that greed is bad, that even the Greeks stole some of their stories, and that some underworlds just aren’t as nice as others. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet a snake-monster that was the wind beneath the hydra’s wings. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 45, “Drag Me to Hell”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
This week’s episode is a listener request special, so give it up for Rose for suggesting this episode by email. We haven’t done any stories from the ancient Sumerian mythology, so it’s about time. This is an old, old, old story, from at least the Uruk period of ancient Sumer, which stretched from 4000 BC to 3100 BC. Our story centers around the Queen of Heaven, a goddess of love, beauty, sex, desire, fertility, war, justice, and political power (which is a lot of things for one crazy powerful goddess), known alternately as Inanna or (more famously) as Ishtar.
Ishtar was a powerful entity, and her worship spread over much of the ancient world, especially among the Assyrians, who raised her up above their native god Ashur to become the most powerful deity in their pantheon. She plays a huge role in the Epic of Gilgamesh, is alluded to in the Hebrew Bible, and influenced the creation of a couple of later deities, including Aphrodite. Given that, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Ishtar appears in more Sumerian myths than any other god or goddess, many of which involve her taking a realm or domain from some weaker god. That gives me a lot of material to choose from, but since the request was for the story of her descent into the underworld, that’s what we’re going to cover. So sit back and relax as I drag you all to hell.
As is often the case with goddesses of sex, love, and beauty, Ishtar was herself quite unlucky in love. She was married to Tammuz (also known as Dumuzid), but she wasn’t exactly happy about the matter and had something of a wandering eye (not unlike Aphrodite and her ugly husband Hephaestus from the later Greeks). She’s tried to court the great hero Gilgamesh, but that had ended…badly. She was bored and pissy so she decided there was only one thing to cheer her up a little – she would go and bother her big sister (and maybe overthrow her and steal her domain for Ishtar’s own, but she’d just see how the day played out).
The vast, dreary Sumerian underworld, known as Kur (later known as Irkalla), was ruled by the goddess Ereshkigal (also later known as Irkalla, much like Hades), which meant “Lady of the Great Earth.” She was not nearly as powerful as her sister Ishtar, but she reigned supreme in the land of the dead, and was the only one who could pass judgment or hand down laws for the dearly departed.
Kur was a dreadful place of dust and shadows located deep in the bowels of the earth. The dead who dwelt there lived a shadow of their former lives, eating and drinking of the dry dust that coated everything, unless their relatives were kind enough to pour one out for one’s homies into a clay pipe, in which case they could guzzle the spilled wine. Unlike a lot of pantheons, there was no real judgment in the afterlife: there were no punishments or rewards waiting for you based on your time on earth. Instead, the only thing you could hope for to make life better in this twilight place was for a proper burial. Ereshkigal had the power to give special favors if she liked you, according to some versions, and so the more elaborate and expensive your burial, the better off you would be after death. If you received no burial, such as if you died in a fire or alone in the desert, then you simply faded out of existence and had no afterlife at all.
I don’t know why Ishtar wanted to be the Queen of the Dead as well as the Queen of Heaven, but from all accounts, it seems that she simply coveted power to some extent and enjoyed the struggle of extending her domain. Whatever her reasons, they were good enough for her to dress in her best finery, including shining bracelets, shimmering necklaces, and sparkling jewels topped with a magnificent high crown and make her way to the cave that was the entrance to Kur.
She journeyed down the sunless path, leaving the light of the world behind her, and soon came to the gate in the first of the seven walls that bounded the land of the dead. Ahead, she could see the gate’s watchman standing on the wall above. “Hello, watchman! I don’t know you’re name, and I don’t care to. I am here to attend the funeral rites of Gugalanna (who was Irkalla’s late husband). Open the gate and let me through. Now.” She watched him notice her, open his mouth, and then close it again. He said nothing, and the gate remained firmly closed. That bastard.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me you, pencil-dicked asshole! Open this gate right the fuck now or so help me, I will smash this flimsy piece of shit to splinters, then tear down the very walls that surround this place and free the ravenous hordes of dead shades held in my sister’s kingdom. I will turn them out of this dark, dreadful place and into the world of the light and the living, and they will overrun the earth and overthrow all of the living, turning the earth into a dead planet! Now, do you want to let me through, or do you want to be the one responsible for the annihilation of all life on earth?”
The poor nameless guard, who was actually named Nedu (not that Ishtar cared), swallowed audibly. He looked out at the Queen of Heaven, glorious in her splendid raiment and tiara that somehow managed to sparkle in the gloom; he knew that she was definitely powerful enough to carry out her threat, and if the stories he’d heard were any indication, she was just mean-spirited enough to do it if crossed. “Please, my lady! Please don’t destroy this gate, I beg you! I’m just a guard, and I have my orders to keep any but the dead out of Kur, but if you’ll just wait here for a few minutes, I’ll take a message to Irkalla and ask for her permission!”
Ishtar decided that this would be marginally less annoying that tearing down the very fabric of reality and dooming all of creation, so she nodded imperiously at the guard to get on with it already, dammit! Nedu immediately raced down into the depths of Kur as fast as his legs would carry him.
When she heard that her sister had come to call, Irkalla was pissed. Kur was her domain, dammit, and she wasn’t about to let that spoiled little bitch usurp her throne because she was bored. Too many good gods had lost their power that way. She spent a few minutes in deep thought, and then something spread across her lips that, were it not so cruel and vicious, might have been called a smile. Irkalla had a plan. “Alright, Nedu. Here’s what I need you to do…”
Just about the time that Ishtar was beginning to think that maybe setting all of creation ablaze would be the easier path, Nedu returned. He hurried to the gate, unlocked it, and opened it, ushering the lovely goddess through. “Enter the realm of Irkalla, my lady. Welcome to the land of the dead, from which no soul ever returns.” As she passed by him, he deftly lifted the shining crown from atop her coiled tresses. “You fucking thief! Give me back my crown, asshole!” “I am sorry, my lady, but if you wish to enter the realm of Kur, then you must submit to the laws of Lady Irkalla. Her will governs this land.” She snorted indignantly, but unfortunately, the little prick was right. As long as Irkalla sat the throne of the dead, Ishtar would either have to submit to this minor indignity or tuck her tail between her legs and go home utterly humiliated. Fire burning in her eyes, she ducked her head and passed through the first gate, her symbol of royal authority gone.
It was a short walk to the second wall, which held its own identical gate, complete with a nearly identical watchman, whose name she also neither knew nor cared. Here, too, the way was barred to her. She sighed, annoyed. “Are you going to let me through, watchman, or do I have to huff and puff first?” He didn’t answer, but rushed down to the gate and threw back the locks, ushering her through. “Enter the realm of Irkalla, my lady. Welcome to the land of the dead, from which no soul ever returns.” As she passed, he deftly removed the eight-pointed star (her symbol and seal) from around her neck, and the soft radiance as of a twinkling star, faded from around her. “You too? Does my sister employ nothing but filthy fucking thieves?” “I am sorry, my lady, but if you wish to enter the realm of Kur, then you must submit to the laws of Lady Irkalla. Her will governs this land.” Ishtar cursed indelicately. Her sister was being a grade-A bitch today. She’d make her pay for this indignity. Fire burning in her eyes, she ducked her head and passed through the second gate, her symbol of celestial authority gone.
At the third gate, she lost her gold and jewels; at the fourth, she lost her golden shoes; at the fifth, it was the delicate veil that hid her face; at the sixth, the watchman took her robes and outer garments; and, at the seventh and final gate, her dress was taken from her. So it was that Lady Ishtar, Queen of Heaven, went to face her sister in the heart of her power crownless, without her radiant glamour, barefoot, bare-faced, and completely naked.
Lady Irkalla, the Queen of the Underworld, watched her sister approach her throne. She had the body of a beautiful woman, but the head of a lioness, and in her arms, she held and stroked the deadly serpent she kept as a pet. Next to her stood Belisari, the Lady of the Desert, who acted as Irkalla’s scribe to write down all of the Lady of Death’s decrees on clay tablets to carry to the wider realm. Behind these two crowded the hordes of the dead. No light shone in their eyes anymore, for they had left the light behind. They were covered entirely in feathers and, instead of arms, they had the wings of birds. They dwelt in darkness and supped on dust and here was a living morsel, come to break up the endless monotony of their sunless existence. They huddled and whispered, and the soft susurration of their quiet, decrepit voices above the rustling of their feather was a chilling sound.
Ishtar stood facing this terrible horde arrayed against her, head held high, but inside she was terrified. This had been a mistake. She’d thought she’d been ready for this awful, mouldering place, but she’d been wrong. She should never have come. “Hey, sis, I can see your busy. I really should have sent a message first to see if you were busy, so if you’ll just open the gates, I’ll head back up to the land of the living and leave you to your work, okay my dear, sweet, beloved sister?”
Irkalla threw back her head and laughed, a sound as cold and cruel as the grave itself. The sound froze Ishtar’s bones and chilled her naked skin like the icy winds from winter’s heart and confirmed her fears. “Did you really think it would be that easy, you heartless bitch? You invaded my realm without notice or invitation and threatened my people and my kingdom as though you owned the fucking place. I’ve got news for you, sister: you’re in my house now, and I make the rules here. You should have heeded the warnings of my watchmen. They call this the Land of Darkness for good reason: whomever enters here, be they magistrate, warrior, king, shepherd, milkmaid, or even goddess, can never again see the light of day. You thought you came here a conquerer, my dear sister, but none can conquer death! You will stay here and feast on dust and shadows in your cloak of feathers. The gates are already sealed behind you, Ishtar. There is no escape. Namtar!”
At her summons came Namtar, demon of the plague. He slunk out of the deeper gloom of Kur to grin evilly at Ishtar. He had the head of a viper on a human body, naked and withered beneath a cloak made of bones, and he walked with a scratching click on his eagle’s feet. Ishtar stood there, rooted to the ground with terror, as the awful thing stalked towards her. She couldn’t look away from his hypnotic gaze, even as he enfolded her in his cloak of death. Her body grew momentarily feverish, then stiffened with a deep, aching chill. The light faded from her eyes, and her skin prickled as feather sprouted from her skin, clothing her naked body. Her memories of her life before, of who and what she had been, faded to nothing, and the shade of Ishtar joined the hordes of the restless dead. Dust was her bread and mud was her wine, and she knew nothing. Other versions have her simply withering away into a corpse, which is then hung on a hook as a warning.
As much as Ishtar could be a bitch (because sky gods are assholes), she was powerful and vitally important to life on earth. With her passing beyond the veil and descending into the twilight, a change swept over the land. Love and lust cooled and then died in every heart, human and animal alike. Birds no longer sang to attract a mate. Bulls no longer mounted the cows. Horses no longer rutted in the pastures. Husbands and wives found that, without lust, they found each other’s bodies mildly repulsive. The priestesses of Ishtar were abandoned by the people, and they grew lonely and depressed: no one wanted to visit with them, or drink and sing and make merry.
Above, on his daily course across the earth, Shamash the sun god could see what was happening. Ninshubur, weeping with grief over her lost mistress, and beating her breast in sorrow, had come to him and told him what had happened to Ishtar, so now he also knew why. If things didn’t change, and soon, life would end. Without love, the creatures no longer protected each other or helped each other, and they grew selfish and cruel. No sex was had, which meant no babies. When those now alive grew angry and hateful enough to finally turn on one another, that would be it. There would be no next generation. Shamash knew he couldn’t let that happen, but he also knew that his power was no match for that of Irkalla. Even he would one day die, and if he journeyed after Ishtar into that dread realm, he too would be trapped there.
In some versions, Ishtar instead commanded Ninshubur to seek the help of the gods if she didn’t return, but I don’t think Ishtar was enough of a planner to have thought ahead to what might happen if she failed, and besides, Ninshubur deserves her good deed. Either way, Shamash sends Ninshubur to seek out Enlil, Nanna, An, and Enki in their temples.
She goes first to Enlil, god of the wind, the sky, and the storms, and pleads for his help, but he refuses, saying that Ishtar’s greed and hubris got her into this mess, and he’ll be damned if he risks pissing off the Queen of Death for that nasty bitch. Ninshubur goes next to Nanna, son of Enlil and god of the moon. Like his father, he too blames this on Ishtar and refuses to help. She then journeys to the temple of An, the living embodiment of the sky and the progenitor of all other deities, but he too refuses, saying that he will not interfere with the fate his descendents have chosen for themselves. Dejected, since An was her best hope, Ninshubur goes to Enki, god of knowledge, creation, and mischief. He’s a trickster god, so you know things are about to get good.
Enki was the one who originally created the things that walked and crawled and swam and flew across the earth, and he wasn’t about to let his creation be destroyed because the other gods were too petty to put their frustration with Ishtar (who was definitely annoying – he didn’t dispute that) aside long enough to help. He hatched a clever plan and set to work. From the dirt beneath his fingernails, he created two andorgynous, asexual humanoid creatures named Gala-tura and Kur-jara. To Kur-jara, Enki gave a cutting of the grain of life; to Gala-tura, he gave a jar of the water of life.
“Go, my children, and slip into the land of shadows unseen. Flit past the doors like flies; slip past the watching eyes like phantoms. Irkalla has just given birth to her children Nungal, Namta, and Ninazu, and her body is wrecked and in agony. Being a goddess of death, she cannot die, even though the labor was brutally hard and has left her wishing she could. If you can make her feel better, even a little, even for just a little while, she’ll give you whatever you want.”
Kur-jara and Gal-tura head down into the underworld, slipping through each of the gates without announcing themselves or opening the doors. They find Irkalla in her chambers at the center of Kur, lying naked, ravaged, and weeping. Irkalla sees them enter, but is in too much pain to acknowledge them. Instead, she cries out in her agony “oh my heart! It hurts me so!” to which the two androgonous creatures reply “You are troubled, mistress – oh your poor heart!” “Oh my liver, it hurts me so!” “You are troubled mistress – oh your poor liver!”
Since Kur is full of dead souls who have had all humanity drained from them, no one had ever bothered to ask Irkalla how she was doing and this simple courtesy meant more to her than seemed reasonable. Based on some of the versions, it’s possible that the two creatures were somehow also giving her magic painkillers, which would make her response make a lot more sense. “Thank you for your concern, strangers. Who are you?” “We are Kur-jara and Gal-tura.” “You have helped me when no one else would? Let me give you something to express my thanks.” “Mistress, give us the corpse standing there in the shadows.” She looked at the two with a raised eyebrow. “That corpse is the Queen of Heaven.” “It makes no difference if it is a king or a queen – it is what we desire.” Irkalla tried offering several other unspecified things, but the two were insistent that Ishtar’s body was the only thing they wanted. Eventually, Irkalla agrees to give them the body wandering in the horde of the dead (or hanging on the hook, depending on the version) as it’s clear they will accept no other reward and she is an honorable goddess.
The two took the body and, following Enki’s instructions, washed it in the water of life and fed it the grain of life. Ishtar’s memories came back and the feathers fell off to reveal her unblemished skin again, leaving the Queen of Heaven naked, shivering, and ready to get the fuck out of Kur. She returns through each of the gates, retrieving her items of power as she does so, until at last she clears the first gate and heads for the cave entrance. As she does so, however, she is seized by the Galla, demons who serve Irkalla. “You were warned, Ishtar, that no one leaves the Underworld once they enter. Our mistress has decreed that, if you are to leave, someone else must take your place.”
The demons drag Ishtar to find a replacement, coming first to Ninshubar, her loyal servant who was the only one who fought to save Ishtar. She is dressed in mourning clothes, her eyes red with weeping. “No, demons – you cannot have my Ninshubar! She is loyal and true, and see, she still mourns me. Find someone else.” They vanish and emerge to find Shara, Ishtar’s personal bodyservant and beautician. She too is dressed for mourning, her eyes puffy with tears. “No, not her either demons. She has mourned me like a true friend. I will not repay her loyalty by having her dragged to hell in my place.”
The demons vanish again, taking Ishtar to see Lulal, Ishtar’s son and a minor deity. Here, too, her son was dressed for mourning as was proper, and was crying for his lost mother in her temple. “No, I will not trade my good, loving son for my own freedom. There must be someone who deserves to be sent to a dreary, lightless pit.” They all vanish again and reappear to find Dumuzid, Ishtar’s hubby. I mentioned earlier that theirs was not the most…loving relationship. They find him dressed lavishly, like someone out courting rather than mourning a beloved spouse, and sprawled under an apple tree with several slave girls. In some versions, rather than a tree, he is sitting on the Throne of Heaven, her throne, which makes the betrayal just that much worse. The story says that they are “entertaining” him, which could mean anything from dancing to blowjobs and honestly, it’s probably a combination of things across the entire spectrum. Ishtar is furious that her husband could be such an ass so soon after her temporary death, and lets the demons have him.
They shimmered into reality, startling the shit out of Dumuzid, and the demons seize him in a grip like iron. He saw the demons of the underworld and his very angry and shockingly alive wife and realizes that he is fucked. “Ishtar, please, it’s not what it looks like! Don’t let them take me, babydoll! Please? Here, let me play my shepherd’s pipes for you and stroke your hair until you calm down.” The demons hold him fast, and Ishtar transfixes him with a look as deep and cold as the grave. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, too angry to respond. Instead, she just pointed at him, and the demons dragged him down into the pit.
Dumuzid was not without friends himself, including the Sun God Shamash, who had taken pity on Ishtar in the first place. He looked up at the sun as he was dragged towards the cave of no return, and he begged for his old friend’s help. “Whatever my sins, I don’t deserve to be thrown into hell for all eternity. Help me, old friend and brother-in-law! I brought butter to your mom’s house when she was out, and milk to Ningal. Turn my hands into snake hands and my feet into snake feet so that I can escape these demons!” It’s a bizarrely specific request, and Shamash grants it. No one expects the Serpent Transformation, and the demons are unprepared for being attacked by fucking snake hands and feet. Dumuzid escapes and flees to the home of Geshtinanna, the Lady of Wine and his sister.
No one knew where he was, and Ishtar feared that the demons would soon grow tired of searching for him and would drag her back down to Kur, which could not be allowed. As she searched with growing desperation, a tiny fly came to see her. “Holy Lady Ishtar, I have information you desire. If I tell you where to find your good-for-nothing husband, what will be my reward?” “If you tell me where to find Dumuzid, then I vow that in every beer-house and tavern, you will always find a place.” The fly accepted these terms and led the demons to Geshtinana’s house. She defends her brother and pleads for his life. The demons are moved by her pleas and come to an agreement with her. She and Dumuzid can share the burden, with each of them spending 6 months at a time in the Underworld in Ishtar’s place – Dumuzid in the fall and winter, and Geshtinana in the spring and summer.
This story carries inside it the seeds of a lot of the more familiar Greek stories that would come later, inspired by these early tales. The Descent of Inanna is widely seen as a myth of the union between the light and dark sides of the queen goddess, represented by Ishtar and her dark-mirror self Irkalla. When Ishtar is lost in Kur, her fertility powers transfer to Irkalla, allowing her to have children and give birth, and strengthens the argument that this is a story of accepting the necessity of death for the cycle of life to continue. In Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, the descent into the underworld is considered to be a descent into the unconscious in order to find strength in a moment of seeming weakness through the acceptance of one’s flaws.
I’m not sure that the right people are being punished for the right things, but someone is being punished for something, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monster is the Bashmu.
Bashmu’s name literally translates to ‘venomous snake’, and it’s a fairly apt description. It was a massive horned snake with two forelegs and wings. It was also a Babylonian and Akkadian constellation, equivalent to the Greek Hydra in the sky, which is appropriate as the hydra fills a very similar niche to the bashmu.
By far, the most famous of the bashmu was Nintura’s dragon, which comes to us from the Angim, also known as Nintura’s Return to Nippur. In the early days, Tiamat (see Episode 25 if you don’t know who that is) had eleven warrior monster children, who were a plague on mankind. Bashmu was described as being sixty double miles long, feasting on fish, birds, men, and asses (presumably donkeys, although maybe bashmu just liked to get a little freaky with that long tongue). Most of the accounts of the conquering of the bashmu are fragmentary, however, so we don’t really know exactly what happened. In some versions, it was vanquished instead by Palil, the snake charmer, or Nergal, the god who nearly slew Irkalla and instead became her husband in exchange for not straight up murdering her, which makes me think that the comic book version of Thanos might just be a rip off of an ancient myth (as well as , you know, Darkseid who he’s totally a rip off of).
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you like what you’ve heard, I’d appreciate a review on iTunes. These reviews really help increase the show’s standing and let more people know it exists. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff, whom you can find on fiverr.com.
So I am officially coming back to DragonCon this year, and bringing Mythology in Popular Culture with me. The schedule is officially posted on the DragonCon app, and my full panel schedule will be posted on Facebook in the days to come. I’ll be doing a wide variety of things this year, including talking to some special guests from the Thrilling Adventure Hour podcast, so I hope you can come check out the fun.
Next time, we’ll journey to the Scottish Highlands for a cautionary tale about elves. You’ll learn why you shouldn’t kiss strange women, why apples are dangerous, and why prophecies always seem to rhyme. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll learn why you should never wish to meet a beautiful woman after dark. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.