Those Who Came From Heaven, The Sumerian Account

The Anunnaki appear in ancient Sumerian texts as divine beings who descended from the heavens. Their name translates roughly as "those who came from heaven to earth," or more literally, "offspring of An and Ki," the sky and earth deities.

In the earliest Mesopotamian accounts, around 3200 BCE, these were not remote, abstract gods but beings described with remarkable specificity. They were said to require food, shelter and service. They convened councils, made decisions and occasionally quarreled among themselves.

The Sumerians, who gave us the first written language, left behind thousands of clay tablets. Many describe the Anunnaki not as creators of humanity out of divine benevolence, but as pragmatic engineers who needed workers.

According to texts like the Atrahasis Epic and Enuma Elish, humans were fashioned from clay and divine essence to perform labour. The lower gods, called the Igigi, had grown weary of toil. They had served the Anunnaki for ages, building temples, digging canals and maintaining the infrastructure of divine rule. Eventually, they revolted.

The solution was to create a servant species. Enki, god of wisdom and waters, together with the goddess Ninmah, conducted what the texts describe as a series of experiments. Early attempts produced beings with missing organs or non-functional limbs. But eventually, they succeeded.

The first human, named Adapa in Sumerian texts, was created from clay mixed with the blood of a god. Enki took great care with this creation, teaching Adapa language, agriculture, law and the names of everything around him. This detail echoes through later traditions: the biblical Adam learning the names of creatures, the Quranic teaching of "all the names."

What's striking about these accounts is their matter-of-fact tone. There is no grand cosmic drama about the sanctity of human life. Humans were workers, designed to serve. The texts are explicit about this utilitarian purpose.

The Anunnaki were organized in a clear hierarchy. At the top sat Anu, the sky father. Below him were his sons: Enlil, who governed Earth, and Enki, the creator and educator. The council numbered twelve principal deities, a structure that reappears across cultures: the twelve Olympians, the twelve tribes, the twelve apostles.

These beings required regular offerings. Temples were built to house them. Priests delivered food, beer and wine. Rituals were performed to keep them satisfied. The concept of sacrifice, so central to later religions, begins here as a practical transaction: feed the gods, and they will not punish you.

Over time, the texts describe humanity multiplying and becoming noisy. Enlil, disturbed by the racket and concerned about human independence, decided to eliminate them. A great flood was coming, and he commanded the other gods to remain silent.

But Enki, who had grown fond of his creations, could not watch them perish. He appeared in a dream to Ziusudra, a righteous man, and told him to build a boat. The instructions were specific: dimensions, materials, which animals to bring. Ziusudra obeyed.

The flood came. It lasted for days. When the waters receded, the boat came to rest on a mountain. Ziusudra released birds to test for dry land. He made an offering of roasted meat. The gods, who had not been fed during the deluge, smelled the offering and gathered around it, grateful and hungry.

This is the template. Thousands of years later, it reappears almost word for word in the Epic of Gilgamesh, in the Hebrew story of Noah, in the Quranic account of Nuh. The details remain consistent: the boat, the birds, the sacrifice, the divine regret.