Neuralink implants hope to communicate between synapses in the brain after a spinal cord injury. With some hope in mind there, we know that spinal cord injury remains one of the most challenging neurological conditions to treat, largely because damage continues to worsen long after the accident.

Secondary injury processes caused by inflammation, and cell death—creates a hostile microenvironment that blocks neural regeneration in the immune system. Chinese medicine might provide some relief say researchers from China after a new study on ancient medicine pairings.

Current clinical strategies for spinal cord treatments focus on surgery, rehabilitation, and limited pharmacological interventions, and of course stem cell treatments and Neuralink which is a hopeful front, but in practice long-term functional recovery is often minimal. Many experimental therapies fail because they target only one aspect of this complex pathology.

As growing evidence suggests that multi-target regulation is essential for meaningful repair. In a study in Precision Clinical Medicine, Chinese researchers investigated whether a synergistic natural drug-pair approach could improve recovery after severe spinal cord injury.

In the study, the scientists didn’t just test one plant compound at a time. They tested two traditional Chinese medicine compounds together — luteolin (from flowers like honeysuckle and chrysanthemum) and astragaloside IV (from astragalus root, Huang Qi). These plants have been combined in Chinese herbal formulas for centuries to help the body recover from injury and inflammation. So in a sense, the researchers were testing a modern, purified version of an ancient Chinese herbal pairing.

When they compared treatments, each compound alone helped only a little. But when they used both together, recovery after spinal cord injury improved much more. The combination reduced inflammation and oxidative stress while also supporting nerve survival and regrowth. Rats that received the paired treatment regained more movement, and their spinal cords showed less damage and scarring.

So the key idea is this: instead of inventing a brand-new drug, the scientists essentially tried a traditional Chinese medicine recipe principle — combining a restorative herb (astragalus/Huang Qi) with an anti-inflammatory flower compound (luteolin-rich herbs). Modern lab tests then confirmed what traditional practice long suggested: healing complex injuries often requires multiple plant compounds working together, not a single isolated molecule.

“Spinal cord injury is not driven by a single pathological process, so it is unlikely that a single-target drug can achieve meaningful recovery,” said one of the study’s senior authors. “What makes this strategy compelling is the way these two compounds complement each other—one strongly counteracts oxidative stress, while the other supports neural protection and regeneration. By working together, they create conditions that are far more favorable for repair. This study provides a strong rationale for exploring synergistic, multi-component therapies in the treatment of complex neurological injuries.”

The study offers important insights for the future design of spinal cord injury therapies. By demonstrating that a carefully selected drug pair can outperform single-compound treatments, it supports a shift toward multi-target strategies for neurological repair.

Although the current findings are based on preclinical models, they lay the groundwork for developing safer, more effective combination therapies that may reduce reliance on high-dose steroids or invasive interventions. Beyond spinal cord injury, this synergistic approach could inform treatment strategies for other neurodegenerative and traumatic conditions where oxidative stress and inflammation play central roles, advancing the broader field of regenerative and precision medicine.

The lead scientist on this study is Wei Lin, from the Department of Orthopedics at the Traditional Chinese Medicine–Western Medicine Hospital of Cangzhou and the Hebei Key Laboratory of Integrated Traditional and Western Medicine in Osteoarthrosis Research in Cangzhou, China.

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Two thousand years ago, someone scratched a web of lines into stone in a Roman settlement on the empire’s northern edge. Soldiers, traders, or locals passing time in Coriovallum, now Heerlen in the Netherlands, moved small counters across those lines in a tactical duel of blockade and entrapment.

The board survived but the rules did not. Now researchers believe they have them using artificial intelligence.

By simulating thousands of possible turn sequences on the carved network found at the site, archaeologists identified a ruleset that best matches the wear patterns on the stone: a two-player blocking game they’ve named Ludus Coriovalli, the Game of Coriovallum.

It belongs to the Roman family of line-movement strategy games that includes ludus latrunculorum, but with its own geometry and tempo.

For Green Prophet readers, this is familiar territory.

We’ve previously explored ancient games reborn from archaeology, from Mehen boards etched into ship planks to Egyptian Senet sets reconstructed from tomb art. These games are more than pastime, they’re ancient culture, revealing how people thought about territory, risk, and control.

Ludus Coriovalli adds a Roman frontier voice to that conversation.

What are the proposed rules of the game?

Two players use unequal numbers of pieces on a network of intersecting lines, with the larger force attempting to surround and immobilize the smaller force. Players take turns moving one piece at a time along the engraved lines to an adjacent intersection point. A piece (or group) is captured or neutralized when it is completely blocked so it cannot move along any connecting line. The larger side wins by trapping all opposing pieces, while the smaller side wins by evading capture or escaping the blockade.

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Christ’s thorn jujube (Ziziphus spina-christi) also known as the sidr tree is a real, identifiable tree native to the Middle East, and it appears—directly or indirectly—in Islam, Judaism, and later Christian tradition. The connections between the three faiths are not theological agreements but overlapping uses, names, and symbolic associations rooted in the same landscape.

In Islam, the tree is known as the sidr. The Qur’an refers to Sidrat al-Muntaha, the Lote Tree of the Utmost Boundary, in Surah An-Najm (53:13–18). While the Qur’anic reference is cosmic rather than botanical, Islamic scholarship and popular tradition have long associated the earthly sidr tree (Ziziphus spina-christi) with this name. Separately, the sidr has practical religious use: its leaves are traditionally used for ritual washing, including funerary preparation, because of their cleansing properties. Islamic legal tradition also treats shade-giving trees such as the sidr as protected resources, discouraging their destruction because of their role in sustaining human and animal life in arid environments. In medieval medical literature the jujube appears fre-quently under various names, such as “sidar” or “tsal“, while the fruit is called “nabaq” or dum“. This is the confusing part, because it has so many different names. 

In Judaism, the same species is known in Hebrew as shizaf and in English, the jujube tree. The tree appears in rabbinic literature as a familiar fruit tree in the Land of Israel and surrounding regions. Its significance is legal and practical rather than mystical. The shizaf is discussed in the context of agricultural law, including restrictions against unnecessary destruction (bal tashchit, not wasting or destroying) and rules governing fruit trees, property boundaries, and communal benefit. Trees that provide food or shade, even if not commercially valuable, are afforded protection under Jewish law. Trees that provide fruit are forbidden from being cut down, and in Judaism there is even a holiday for the trees, called Tu B’shevat. The jujube therefore functions as part of Judaism’s broader land-based ethic rather than as a singular sacred symbol.

The Christian association is later and less textually grounded. The English name Christ’s thorn reflects a tradition that identifies the tree’s hooked thorns with the crown of thorns placed on Jesus Christ during the crucifixion. The New Testament does not name the plant species, and there is no definitive historical proof that Ziziphus spina-christi was used. However, the tree was common in Roman-era Judea, and its flexible, sharp thorns make the identification plausible enough to persist in Christian tradition and naming. This is one of the theories. Ever hike in the Judaean Mountains outside of Jerusalem, and dry thorny trees and bushes is about all you will find.

The clean line between the three traditions can exist: Islam names the tree as the sidr and elevates it symbolically and ritually; Judaism regulates it legally and ethically as part of a lived agricultural system. Mentioned in the Mishnah and Talmud, they are linked to the biblical atad and, historically. The sidr was also known as pilgrimage trees for women who were barren. Christianity retrospectively associates it with a central moment in the life of Jesus. All three traditions engage the same tree through different lenses—cosmic boundary, legal responsibility, and historical memory—without relying on the same texts or meanings. According to this article it is the only holy tree in Islam and the Druze also revere this tree for its spiritual importance.

The medicinal uses for Christ’s thorn, the sidr tree are vast. These are documented ethnobotanical use in Israel and the wider Middle East.

Medicinal Uses of Christ’s Thorn Jujube (Ziziphus spina-christi)

Source: Dafni, A., Levy, S., & Lev, E. (2005). The ethnobotany of Christ’s Thorn Jujube (Ziziphus spina-christi) in Israel. Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine, 1:8. https://doi.org/10.1186/1746-4269-1-8

What unites these traditions is that the jujube tree heals wounds, cools bodies, feeds communities, and thrives where water is scarce. It teaches patience, restraint, and coexistence with the land.

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In another case of dubious Dubai, a UAE developer is making an ecological housing project and is advertising that they are uprooting ancient olive trees from the Mediterranean to plant in Dubai. We see what happens to trees planted in Dubai and then neglected. There is something deeply wrong with calling the uprooting of ancient olive trees “eco,” no matter how many studies are cited or how softly the word wellness is whispered into the sales brochure.

When Mediterranean olive trees—some said to be up to 2,500 years old—are lifted from their ancestral soil in Spain and Italy and shipped to Dubai to decorate a luxury development, this is not sustainability. It is ecological displacement dressed up as design. East tree is reported to have cost about $270,000 USD. So who is selling them?

Related: See what happens when millions of trees in Dubai are not watered

Water turned off in Abu Dhabi desert tree experiment (photo)

These trees are not ornaments but are living archives. Many took root around the time of Ancient Greece, long before real estate prospectuses and infinity pools. Olive trees anchor soil, sustain biodiversity, and hold cultural memory. They belong to landscapes shaped by centuries of climate, wind, microbes, and human care. Their value is not measured in dirhams.

Related: The value of an ancient olive tree in Israel

The idea that a tree costing AED 1 million somehow justifies its relocation is the logic of extraction, not regeneration.

Developments like MAG’s Keturah Reserve—rising in Mohammed Bin Rashid City—lean heavily on the language of biophilic design and mental wellbeing, and even point to a study on how trees are good for people. Yes, people thrive when connected to nature. But whose nature? And at what cost?

The developers say that they are going to bring the trees to their project Keturah Reserve, an apartment complex of the 533 low-rise apartments, 93 townhouses and 90 villas.

Flying centuries-old trees across continents via specialized cargo burns enormous fossil fuels. Replanting them in a desert climate—no matter how advanced the irrigation or “heritage preservation techniques”—places immense stress on organisms that evolved for Mediterranean seasons, soils, and rainfall patterns. And we’ve seen that the UAE is not capable of taking care of trees so survival rates are uncertain. Long-term ecological function is compromised. And the original landscapes are left poorer, stripped of irreplaceable elders.

“Every element enhances sustainability and harmony with the environment, so residents will thrive,” said Talal M. Al Gaddah, CEO and Founder of the Keturah luxury brand. “They bring history, calm, and a sense of permanence,” said Talal, who has conceived to build a natural gallery (Joni Mitchell called it a Tree Museum), where a forest of trees from around the world blend with art installations and sculptural dry gardens, just a short drive from Downtown Dubai.

This is not harmony with the environment but ecological laundering.

True biophilic design does not begin with removal. It begins with respect. If developers genuinely care about wellbeing, they would invest in native desert ecologies—ghaf trees, indigenous shrubs, living shade systems—species adapted to place, water scarcity, and heat. They would restore land rather than import symbolism.

Ancient olive trees should remain where they stand, rooted among the communities, farmers, birds, fungi, and histories that shaped them. They are not transferable assets. They are not centerpieces. They are elders.

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I have my own little slice of paradise in a forest in Canada. It would be unsettling to say the least if the developers started carving up and developing the Crown Land, protected by law, around my land.

But this is what’s happening now in Iran, an a world-protected forest.

The story starts in a village called Sark, located in the Ponel–Khalkhal area, where road construction has begun to connect a newly built villa complex, and part of the UNESCO-protected Hyrcanian forests has been destroyed according to local reports in Iran.

Environmentalists speak of trees being cut down and heavy machinery entering the area. They say this organized destruction threatens the future of the Hyrcanian forests.

“I am an Architect and Restorer and an Urban Regeneration Expert working in the field of sustainable development, and I have spent years advocating for the preservation of my country’s heritage,” says Green Prophet contributor Ronak Roshan. (She’s called out the Aga Khan and their ecological award out for greenwashing in Iran).

“Recently, we were informed by the local community that road construction is underway in the Hyrcanian Forests to enable the development of luxury villas. Our field observations and initial documentation show clear signs of land-use change, unauthorized construction, and the expansion of private holding companies into forested areas, agricultural lands, and the buffer zones of this fragile ecosystem,” she says.

“Such activities pose a serious threat to the Outstanding Universal Value (OUV) of the site, endangering its ecological integrity, landscape continuity, and long-term conservation,” says Roshan,

While in just the past few months new warnings have been issued about the intensifying destruction of the Hyrcanian forests, field reports from the village of Sark in the Ponel–Khalkhal corridor in Gilan show that large-scale road construction has begun in the heart of the region’s ancient forests.

According to environmental activists, this work is being carried out in order to create an access route for a villa complex known as “Behesht Complex” (Paradise Complex).

According to information from informed sources, in order to obtain permits to continue construction of the Behesht villa complex, a road is being built so that afterwards the responsible authorities can justify construction “within the road corridor” and issue permits for the expansion of the complex.

Following this request, the felling of thousand-year-old Hyrcanian trees and the destruction of pristine vegetation has begun. Only a few families live in Sark village, and for years they have used a wooden bridge for their comings and goings. But now, parts of the forest are under pressure from road construction and site preparation for building, including earth removal, mountain cutting and alteration of the topography.

At the same time, environmental activists have sent a formal letter to UNESCO, warning about the planned destruction of the Hyrcanian forests, a World Heritage site, and calling for urgent international action.

In their letter, environmental activists write that this destruction is not limited to Gilan. They say this trend has been continuously ongoing for several decades and, especially after events such as the “Gilan, Capital of Construction” conference, has accelerated under the influence of certain individuals.

The activists have asked UNESCO to order an immediate halt, send a fact-finding mission to the affected areas, and issue an official statement of condemnation.

In Shahrivar (August–September) of this year as well, road construction from Tarom County to Shaft County, along the Dayleh-Sar highlands, began with tree cutting and destruction of the natural terrain, without obtaining any legal permits from the relevant authorities. As a result, 8.5 kilometres of rangeland and forest land in Shaft were destroyed.

The Hyrcanian forests form a long belt of about 850 kilometres, stretching from the Gorgan plain to parts of the Republic of Azerbaijan. Nineteen percent of the total area of the Hyrcanian forests registered with UNESCO—about 58,000 hectares—belongs to Gilan.

Environmental activists in Iran often face significant personal risk when speaking out about illegal land grabs, deforestation, or the destruction of protected areas. In recent years, several high-profile environmentalists have been detained, interrogated, or imprisoned on broad national-security charges, sometimes without transparent legal proceedings.

International human rights groups have repeatedly expressed concern that environmental advocacy in Iran can be treated as political dissent, leaving local activists vulnerable to surveillance, harassment, and pressure from security institutions. This has created a climate in which many citizens are afraid to report ecological damage, making the documented cases of forest destruction even more alarming given the courage required to bring them to light.

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It’s full of rare and endemic species, and it’s a UNESCO heritage site. Iran’s natural treasure, a 1000-kilometer forest, the Hyrcanian forest has been on fire for several days. It stretches from the Caspian Sea and into neighboring Azerbaijan and is home to more than 3,200 kinds of plants. It is home to the Persian leopard and the Steppe eagle.

Related: Iran’s dams and water reservoirs have dried up

Mohammad Jafar Ghaempanah, deputy to Iranian President Massoud Pezeshkian, wrote Friday on X that “faced with the impossibility of containing the fire,” Iran had “requested urgent assistance from friendly countries.”

“Two specialized water bomber planes, a helicopter, and eight people will be dispatched from Turkey,” Shina Ansari, head of the Iranian Environmental Protection Organization, said on Saturday.

“If necessary, we will also seek assistance from Russia,” she added on state television.

The forest is also home to the Rudkhan Castle, a fortress to defend against Arab invaders during the Muslim conquest of Persia.

According to Iran’s Tasnim news agency, the fire was allegedly started by hunters in the rocky area of Elit in the province of Mazandaran, in northern Iran. This goes in parallel with climate change and the most severe droughts that Iran has seen since records began 60 years ago. Some clerics have blamed Israel for stealing the clouds. But it’s known that Iran’s lack of water management is to blame. See our story on the Aral Sea, an inland lake. It’s only gotten worse since we wrote the first article in 2014.

The country is currently facing one of its most severe droughts since records began six decades ago.

The director general of crisis management for Mazandaran province, Hossein Ali Mohammadi, described the operation to extinguish the fire as “one of the most complex in recent years.”

UNESCO says on its website that the Hyrcanian forests contain a “high degree of rare and endemic tree species” and are home to “many relict, endangered” plant species.

According to UNSESO, the forest contains the most important and significant natural habitats for in-situ conservation of biological diversity, including those containing threatened species of outstanding universal value from the point of view of science or conservation. It also contains superlative natural phenomena or areas of exceptional natural beauty and aesthetic importance.

“Iranians are losing a natural heritage that is older than Persian civilization,” Kaveh Madani, a UN scientist and former Iranian environmental official, wrote on X.

Green Prophet contributor Ronak Roshan, a sustainability architect in Iran says that climate change and bad planning is likely the cause for the fire.

“We should not look for distant and wrong addresses to find the founders of the Hyrcanian forest fires,” she says. “The roots of this crisis were planted years ago in the heart of our forests with irregular constructions, uncoordinated interventions, and the dancing of some branded architects and urban planners against land speculators. These decisions and plans, which ignored the capacities of the ecosystem and the fragility of the ecosystem, gradually undermined the natural structure of forests.

“Alongside these human factors, climate change—from unprecedented droughts to rising temperatures—has made Hyrcanian forests more vulnerable than ever. However, the issue is not only climate; we have not prioritized natural heritage and Hyrcanian forests as a “national and public value” in any period. The protection of this million-year-old heritage has never been seen among the urgent needs of the country.

“Today, when fires are burning in several parts of the Hyrcanian region at the same time, the main question is before us with unprecedented clarity: If we want to control this fire, what should we do with this danceable pattern of architects and urban planners (who have recently become environmentalists) against short-term interests? And how do we deal with the fire that has risen softly and silently from the heart of negligence, wrong policies, and profit-oriented interventions?”

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Two thousand years ago, all roads led to Rome. Now, thanks to modern data science, they finally do again — this time in high resolution. A newly released digital atlas Itiner-e what they call a “Google Maps for Roman roads.”It is being hailed as a kind of “Google Maps for the ancient world”, charting nearly 300,000 kilometres of Roman roads across Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa. The project stitches together countless archaeological and historical datasets into a single interactive network, revealing the sheer scale of the viae Romanae that once bound the empire together.

At its peak around AD 150, the Roman Empire stretched from Britain’s Hadrian’s Wall to the banks of the Euphrates, from the Atlas Mountains to the Black Sea. Its lifeblood was the road — engineered with stone, gravel, and astonishing precision — that carried soldiers, grain, ideas, and empire itself. But despite centuries of scholarship and excavation, our understanding of this network has remained incomplete.

Although the roads are one of the best-known aspects of Roman history, it’s surprising how many details about them we still don’t know. According to the new dataset, the locations of only 3% of Roman roads are known with certainty; the rest have been inferred from satellite imagery, topographical analysis, and fragmentary archaeological evidence.

The map, created through a collaboration of classicists, GIS specialists, and open-data archivists, pulls together previously siloed regional studies — from Britain’s Watling Street to Israel’s Via Maris — into a single digital ecosystem. Each route can be explored interactively, complete with estimated construction dates, trade significance, and terrain context.

For ordinary viewers, it’s a revelation — a chance to visualize how Rome’s engineers carve through deserts, mountains, and marshes to keep an empire alive. It is, quite literally, the skeleton of Western civilization rendered as pixels and coordinates.

But this project isn’t just a nostalgic look backward. It’s also a powerful reminder of what sustainable infrastructure once meant. Roman roads were built to last millennia, with local materials, drainage systems, and low-maintenance stonework that endured centuries of weather and war. Many of today’s highways and rail lines still trace their original foundations. Roman concrete was self-healing and lasts until today.

In an age of asphalt sprawl, potholes, and short-term urban planning, the Roman network offers a strange kind of hope for our future. Ancient engineers designed for permanence and adaptation — concepts that modern infrastructure often neglects. The Romans understood maintenance as a civic duty, with roads meant to connect people, not just move things.

Roman law (Lex Julia Municipalis, 45 BCE) required local communities and landowners to maintain the sections of road passing through their territory. Public funds (the cursus publicus) supported major arteries, showing that upkeep was embedded in governance.

Some sustainability researchers see parallels between the Roman viae and today’s green corridors: both seek to balance movement, resilience, and local ecology.

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As the 28th edition of Ecomondo opens in Rimini, Italy it comes with a quiet truth that feels almost subversive in the era of climate mega-summits and scripted ministerial statements: this trade fair — full of waste-sorting robotics, composting technology, soil-remediation systems, and industrial biogas machinery — may now matter more to the planet’s future than the COP conferences that dominate global climate headlines.

COP has always been about diplomacy, negotiation, and political signaling. It is the global stage where nations gather to pledge emissions targets, debate loss-and-damage financing, and reaffirm their commitment to a shared climate agenda. It’s a place where people meet when the previous work has already been done.

But we are no longer living in a decade where promises are the substance of climate action. We are living in the decade of execution.

And execution does not happen in marble plenaries or UN press tents. It happens in exhibition halls like those in Rimini — in the sight of shredder lines turning textile waste into new feedstock, water-recycling systems being stress-tested, algae vats bubbling quietly, and biofertilizer reactors feeding regenerative agriculture.

In other words: COP is where the world talks about climate action. Ecomondo is where the world actually builds it.

This year Ecomondo brings together more than 1,700 exhibiting companies, 30 halls, 166,000 square meters of circular-economy innovation, 380 hosted buyers from 66 countries, and over 200 conferences led by industrial, academic, and regulatory experts. It’s a demonstration of scale — but not the theatrical scale of global diplomacy. It’s the scale of supply chains, of business models, of industrial ecosystems.

Walk through Rimini and the difference is instant: instead of panels debating ambition levels, you see companies demonstrating anaerobic digesters, next-gen composting infrastructure, optical sorters for plastic waste, textile-recycling machinery, aquifer-restoration systems, AI-enabled climate monitoring tools, lithium battery shredders, and sludge-to-fertilizer technology.

Europe’s emissions goals will not be met by pledges, but by infrastructure. The circular economy will not scale through slogans, but through procurement, factories, and financing models. And Ecomondo understands this.

The 2025 programme leans into the hardest industrial questions of the decade:

• How do we close the loop on textiles under new EU rules?
• What happens to 2030’s waste solar panels and wind turbines?
• Can biogas and biomethane scale fast enough to displace fossil gas?
• How do cities transform waste streams into economic resources?
• How do we regenerate degraded soils at continental scale?
• How do we secure critical minerals without opening new wounds?

COP’s theater vs. Ecomondo’s workshop

COP is necessary — it forces nations to face each other and acknowledge a shared emergency. But it is also a place of gesture politics, where governments announce recycled commitments, fossil fuel lobbyists measure influence, and energy companies pose as climate champions while expanding extraction.

In Rimini, the performance drops away. Nobody wins Ecomondo with a pledge or a photo op. You win if your system works, if your process scales, if a municipal department or multinational buyer signs a deal to decarbonize their operations.

Italy is not always positioned as a climate-policy powerhouse. Yet in circularity, water treatment, bioeconomy, and industrial ecology, it is quietly one of the most advanced economies in the world that knows how to dream –– and work.

In a global conversation often dominated by the U.S.–China technology rivalry, Ecomondo is a reminder: Europe’s strength is systems thinking. Decarbonization here looks like integration — circular supply chains, wastewater reuse, biobased feedstocks, land restoration, local manufacturing, and policy synchronized with industry.

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Below is one of the oldest written texts known to exist: a hymn in praise of the Mesopotamian beer goddess Ninkasi. Archaeologists surmise that brewing goes back to 3500 to 3100 BCE at the Sumerian settlement of Godin Tepe in modern-day Iran. But It’s not known exactly when the first beer was poured into a jug and tasted.

The Sumerians brewed many kinds of beer. The cuneiform tablet shown below is dated from “The sixth year of Prince Lugalanda,” ruler of southern Mesopotamia circa 2370 BC. It reports the deliveries of three kinds of beer to the palace and as offerings to a temple. The quantities of barley and other ingredients needed for making beer are carefully noted for inspection.

Beer was the everyday drink of the masses and of the gentry, as necessary as bread. Its nutritional value was high. It was also safer to drink than plain water, as the basic fermented liquor had to be boiled.

Barley was the grain used to provide the nutrients and sugars needed to ferment beer. It was used in the shape of barley bread dissolved in water, plus sprouted barley grains. It was a labor-intensive process, each ingredient matured separately and added in stages. Emmer, an ancient wheat variety, was added as well. Emmer is still around and is known as farro today.

Our dandelion beer recipe also relies on natural ingredients, but is much easier to brew up.

We have a partial recipe for Sumarian beer. It’s preserved in the Hymn to Ninkasi. The lyrical poem with its rhythmic verses was probably sung by workers in the brewing facilities. It illustrates the religious respect with which the Sumarians regarded beer, precious gift of the goddess.

“Ninkasi, you are the one who pours out the filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of the Tigris and the Euphrates.”

The poem goes on to describe the effects of the goddess’s gift:

“Drinking beer, in a blissful mood,
Drinking liquor, feeling exhilarated,
With joy in the heart [and] a happy liver…”

The whole poem may be viewed here.

We’ve brewed our own ancient-style beer at home: Ethiopian Tej. The traditional procedure eerily almost matches the ancient Sumerian method as outlined in the Hymn to Ninkasi.

Women were the home bakers of the time, so the responsibility for beer brewing was first theirs. When beer became a commercial enterprise, men took over the production. As a home-brewer myself, it seems logical that the first beer was the result of water into which barley bread fell, making a new ferment. The alcoholic odor was tempting – someone dared to taste the liquid – and decided to make it again, on purpose. As good a theory as any.

What was ancient beer like? We know that although recipes varied from region to region, it was probably somewhat sour, although sweetened with dates whose sugar content would have boosted fermentation. Honey was included in some recipes for the same purpose. It’s thought that it usually had 2 to 4% alcohol by volume.

It was cloudy and rough, with floating husk particles of barley and wheat and field dust. People drank the beer through a straw, avoiding the gritty stuff at the bottom of the jar. Here’s an illustration from those times. Note the sideways smile of the second figure from the left.

The Sumarians’ brewing methods developed over the ages into the beer we know today. Yet making alcohol from bread mashed into liquid has never left people’s minds. We have a funny note on that: jailbird booze.

This story went around brewer’s forums for a while. It was said that convicts would fill a garbage bag with Kool-Aid left over from lunches, then floated a slice of moldy bread (great yeast) on it. The bag was stashed behind the toilet. After a while the sugary liquid had become alcoholic. Of course, today’s ubiquitous security cameras put a stop to that.

Not something I would recommend. But If you’re feeling ambitious, you can make Tej to sip while munching on Mersu candy. For that good old Mesopotamian feeling.

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A rare and intricately carved Roman marble sarcophagus, dating back 1,700 years, has been unearthed during a rescue excavation by the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) in the ancient port city of Caesarea. The find, described by archaeologists as “spectacular and unique,” features a vivid mythological scene of a drinking contest between Dionysus—the god of wine—and the hero Heracles (Hercules).

This marble coffin may be the oldest “party scene” ever found in Israel—and it’s carved in stunning detail.

Instead of red Solo cups and keg stands, this ancient drinking game involved gods and demigods slugging it out in style. The scene on the sarcophagus shows Dionysus, the god of wine and wild nights, going head-to-head with Hercules, known for his brute strength and legendary hangovers.

Caesarea, home of the original drink-off?

The excavation was launched by the IAA in collaboration with the Caesarea Development Corporation, which has been working to preserve and restore the historical treasures of the city.

Carved in high relief on gleaming white marble, the sarcophagus depicts the legendary showdown between Dionysus (known in Roman mythology as Bacchus) and Heracles, a symbolic battle of indulgence and strength. In classical mythology, Dionysus challenges Heracles to a drinking contest—a moment of revelry that showcases the god’s cunning and command over pleasure.

Related: why Muslims don’t drink alcohol

Experts believe the sarcophagus once belonged to a high-status individual—likely Roman or Romanized elite—interred in Caesarea during the 3rd or 4th century CE, when the city thrived under Roman rule.

“This is the first sarcophagus of its kind found in Israel with this specific mythological scene,” said Dr. Peter Gendelman of the IAA. “Its craftsmanship, condition, and content are exceptional.”

Founded by Herod the Great and once a glittering Roman provincial capital, Caesarea Maritima remains one of Israel’s most archaeologically rich sites. Finds from recent years have included Roman-era mosaics, Byzantine churches, and Crusader fortifications—but this sarcophagus, with its mythological imagery and well-preserved artistry, stands out.

“This discovery adds a rich new layer to our understanding of Roman funerary culture in the eastern Mediterranean,” noted Dr. Helen Goldstein, classical art historian at Tel Aviv University. “The depiction of Dionysus and Heracles is not only artistic—it reflects the spiritual and cultural values of the elite in late antiquity.”

The sarcophagus will be formally presented to the public on Thursday, June 12, where it is expected to draw significant interest from scholars and heritage professionals. Conservation experts are currently studying the piece, and plans are underway to display it in Caesarea or at a national museum.

The IAA continues to urge developers and landowners to coordinate in advance with heritage authorities, as salvage excavations like this one often reveal irreplaceable cultural treasures.

So next time you’re playing quarters or stack cup, raise a glass to Dionysus and Hercules—the original players of the ancient world.

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