Information was kept ‘‘in order not to be forgotten’’ in a number of forms, including the ancient plant glossary, URU. AN. NA. At first glance, this series is a great puzzle.
Many of the entries are clearly lexical equivalents, that is, they provide translations of Sumerian and Akkadian plant names into other languages like Kassite, Subarean, and others. However, some of the entries listed together as equivalents are clearly different plants, which has caused modern redactors a great deal of unnecessary grief.
Two medicinal plants could conceivably be equivalent in three different ways. To say that an Akkadian and a Sumerian or Kassite word for the same plant are equivalents is to say that they are translations of one another; you can substitute the Akkadian word for the Sumerian or Kassite word in a sentence without affecting the meaning of the sentence. To say that two different Akkadian words for the same plant are equivalents is to say that they are synonyms so that, once again, you can substitute one for the other without affecting the meaning of your sentence. To say that two different medical plants are equivalent is to say that one could potentially be substituted for the other in a medical prescription or, as we would say, that they have the same action. If, for example, you have a patient with a urinary tract problem and your prescription calls for juniper, but you are all out of juniper, and you find by looking in URU. AN. NA that x and juniper are equivalents, it means that you can put x into your remedy in place of the juniper for which the prescription calls and still cure the urinary tract problem.
Less obvious is why all three types of equivalent are listed together in the same list. However, if you think as Mesopotamians do, the analogy between the last form of substitution and the other two is very close indeed - the lists of plants are not merely propitiatory offerings but also miniature sentences encoding instructions to the spirit or demon which is causing the illness. Witness particularly passages where the Akkadian recitation accompanying a medical procedure actually decodes the messages written into the ingredients. In the case of medicinal plants, one would need to ‘‘translate’’ their messages in medical terms such as ‘‘take this and stop giving me a headache and bloodshot eyes’’ or ‘‘take this and stop giving me a tummy ache.’’ Since any given plant usually has more than one intrinsic ‘‘meaning,’’ and can be good for tummies and heads, syntax, the method of preparation, the part of the body to which the medicine is applied, other drugs used and so on, is also important to getting your message across to the demon. Such is the theory, and the fact that the prescription is observed to work confirms not only that the demon was correctly identified but that he or she has received the message and accepted the offering. The handbook URU. AN. NA, together with the series on plants and the pharmacological handbooks, unmistakably represent that schema of organization of plants by medical use which the Greek Dioscorides is credited with ‘‘inventing’’ (Riddle 1985: 22-4). The ancient Mesopotamian plant manuals from which he borrowed the idea of organization were probably intended primarily for a pharmacist.
World History
