Sunday, May 27, 2012

Noah and family grave sites in Kurdistan...


Henry Kroll, this news is from Jonathan Gray -   You authorized this mailing
when you requested your free report on our
web-site. See below for removal directions.

It happened, Henry Kroll, on my trip into the
forbidden valley.


My hands shook as I read the warning note.

      “Firstly, you should be aware that there
       is an ongoing war between the Turkish
       Security Forces and Kurdistan Workers’
      Party (PKK) guerrillas.

      “People are being killed on the streets
       by unidentified murderers and none of
       them was unidentified or arrested.
       Therefore it is really risky and dangerous
       to travel in Kurdistan.

      “There is a strong possibility that
       security forces will arrest or detain you
       if they see your travel visa issued by
       any Kurdish organisation. Therefore you
       should not show your visa to any Turkish

So warned the FAX message sent to me with my
Kurdish “visa”.

It had been a scary week.

And now our bus was being stopped by Turkish

“Everyone out. We’re going to search your

The uniformed Turkish officer was coming along
the line. He would soon reach my baggage.

Stuffed inside my sleeping-bag cover was my
safe-passage document issued by the outlawed
Kurds. If the Turks found it, we were finished.

I had to do something fast.

Looking quickly to see if anyone was watching
me, I thrust my hand inside the cover of the
sleeping-bag, pulled out that document, and
nervously stuffed it behind my belt at the back
of my trousers.

Only then did I look up – and realised someone
was watching. And while they watched… the piece
of paper slid down my legs back on to the ground.


Archaeologists recognise place names as a record
of history. And, according to local place names,
the eight human survivors of the Great Flood
settled here, in eastern Turkey, in the famous
Valley of Eight.

In this wild region American archaeologist Ron
Wyatt had discovered two very ancient graves.
And the inscriptions were unmistakable.

They represented probably the first post-Flood
grave marker on this planet, that of a famous
man’s wife. And nearby, that of the husband
himself – a man called Noah.

Here was evidence of a man that many had thought
was only a legend.

The two grave markers bore an ancient, petroglyph
portrayal of Noah’s death on one marker and that
of his wife on the other. These grave markers were
in the front of a very ancient stone house.

Below the rainbow (associated worldwide with the
Flood account), on the left was the crest of a
wave, and atop the wave a boat. To the right of
this were eight stick characters.

It was clear who they were. Two larger figures
(male and female), accompanied by three smaller
men (their sons) and behind them three women
(their sons’ wives).

According to the ancient book of Genesis, the
sole human survivors of the Great Flood were
Noah and his wife, their three sons Shem, Ham
and Japheth, and their sons’ wives.

The inscription showed the woman crouching. Her
head was bowed and her eyes closed. And the other
seven were walking away from her. She must have
been the first of them to go.

In front of the adjacent village was an ancient
wall faced with tiles. Engraved on the tiles was
a sequence of pictures portraying an event.

Firstly, animals were shown entering the survival
vessel. There were eight people shown.

Secondly were portrayed the faces of other people,
around the Ark.

Then the Ark was shown, riding on a wave.

The deity was depicted, with water flowing from
His feet.

And eight people were depicted under a rainbow.


But the most exciting find was the two grave
markers. Let me ask, could you keep such a
discovery secret? Ron was exploding. He wanted to
shout it to the world!

“That’s incredible,” gasped one of the
archaeological team   “I have to see this!”

Trembling with excitement, Ron drove the man out
to Kazan. You might call Ron naive. He trusted
that his friend would feel the same awe that had
moved him. A reverence, if you like.

Very soon after, something happened. Mehmet, the
village mayor, looked both ways down the street,
then yanked the visitor inside.

The pact was sealed with a drink and the visitor
crept out into the darkness and sped off with no
lights on.

Within hours, the two graves were dug up.


“Mr Wyatt, we want to find out if you have any
knowledge of who could have done such a thing.”

The Turkish authorities were most concerned.
They informed him that over 100 million U.S.
dollars worth of gold and gemstones had been
stolen from the graves.

One item, a bodice around her waist, with large
stones in it, had sold on the black-market in
Istanbul for $75 million dollars!

Of course, it had to be quite an incredible
piece, and the description of this one item was
more than a person could comprehend.

The Turkish authorities tracked down the source
of the artefacts through their intelligence on
activities in the Black Market – but the
perpetrator himself eluded capture.

However, the chief of the village near the
gravesite – Mehmet – has been identified as an
accomplice. His share of the proceeds, it appears,
has enabled him to buy his way out of trouble
with authorities.

As you know, there is corruption at high levels
in all countries.

Turkish authorities have been seeking to recover
these precious artefacts. They told us they were
aware of the identity of the man most likely to
have committed this outrage.

As it happened, he dropped from our team and
from the public eye shortly after the theft from
the two graves.


You may understand, my heart was set on getting
over to Kazan.

After all, out there were some of the first
anchor stones to be dropped from the Ark as it
was coming in to land.

There also the first post-Flood family built a
house, tilled the ground. And there, finally,
Noah and his wife had been buried.

Just think about it! This place was the ancestral
home of us all.

I confided my plans to Dr Allen Roberts, a former
member of the team.

“Don’t go, Jonathan,” he warned. “It’s too
dangerous. People disappear.”

I spoke to Ron. “Keep away from Kazan,” he urged.
“They’ll kill you.”

Yes, Ron’s discoveries had catalysed the grave
robberies there. Subsequently, the chief had
plotted Ron’s death. The concern was valid.

But how deeply I longed to go in and document
what was there!

After all, this was the place of our roots – of
all of us on this planet. This was an important
discovery. This was where it all began. I just
had to go in there and record it.

Nevertheless, I had been well appraised of the

Yet this whole thing kept nagging at me. I
determined to take all possible precautions.

Over several months, I contacted representatives
of the Kurdish guerrillas for a letter of safe
passage into their rebel region of Turkey.

Perhaps naively, I hoped that if in danger of
being kidnapped, I could show this document to
any hostile band and gain release.


On the way out to Kazan, my driver stopped to
pick up a man who introduced himself as the
village chief.

Trevor nudged me.  “He looks sinister.”

The man gave another name, but I recognised him
as Mehmet, the man against whom Ron had warned

He accompanied us to some anchor stones lying
near the village.

Some of the village children eyed us from a

We wandered over to a rise, where two of the
anchors were now being used upside down as
grave markers.

Then we headed for a hill about a mile west of
the village.

From here we could look back toward the village,
set in a bowl depression.

As we ascended the hill, I kept noticing holes
in the ground.

It turned out that since finding valuables in
Noah’s wife’s grave, the villagers had been
digging up other graves in the area, in the hope
of finding more treasure.

On top of the hill lay another anchor stone,
dropped, evidently, when the survival vessel
sailed over this peak.  The cable hole on one
anchor was broken.

For an hour Mehmet and his deputy guided us over
the Valley of Eight, to anchor stones (drogue
stones), altars and inscriptions.

But my eyes kept scanning for the spot I had
really come to see.  All these other things were,
of course, interesting – but the site of Noah’s
house and grave – that was why I was really here.

Though I was careful not to let Mehmet see me
looking for them.

Then eventually, from the summit of this hill,
I recognised the location, to the north of the

Back near the village itself, our hosts were
knocking stones from a wall to show us an old

But that was not why I was here. I was silently


It was now or never.  The risk had to be taken.
Dangerous it could be if the chief discovered
what I really knew of Ron, himself and the grave

Better to feign ignorance, throw in someone
else’s name. Someone that I knew he trusted.

Swallowing hard, I drew a sketch of Noah’s
gravestone and mentioned the name of another
person, one whose name would not make him

“David Fasold saw this?” I queried, pointing to
the sketch.  “Is this somewhere around here?”

Mehmet instantly recognised it.  Agitation
showed.  “No, not David Fasold!” he snapped

The friendly man had now turned savage.

Then he paused, weighing his words.  “On my land
– over there.”

I did not know it at the time, but this man
carried a gun under his jacket.

Now, instead of taking us to the place we wanted
to go, where I knew the house and the grave sites
to be, Mehmet and his henchman skirted that area,
then drew us away from it.

We passed the giant 12-foot altar which overlooked
it all … and kept going!

Up on the hill, beyond the big altar, Ron had seen
human bones – and a skull with hair still on it –
which dogs had been devouring.

This man, Ron believed, was a killer.  It was up
this same hill that Mehmet was now luring me.

“How far is it?” I asked.

Just 100 metres” was the reply

We covered that distance and I grew suspicious.
There was a rock with some marks on it, but the
grave marker would not have been brought up here.

“How far now?” I pressed.

“Come,” he said.

“How far?  You said 100 metres.  How far is it?”

“Just one kilometre more,” said the man.  “Come.”

I recalled the plot to get Ron into the hills and
kill him.

It was time to act – fast.  I turned to Sayim,
my driver.

“Tell him the sun is getting low.  We must
turn back.”

I wheeled around.  Having been toward the rear
of the party, I was now in front, racing down
the hill, back toward the 12-foot altar.

My team member Trevor was waiting further down.

Meanwhile, back at the car, the children of
these grave robbers were pilfering my bag.

In the open, I felt a little safer.  Shooting
with my camera, I headed straight into the area
that Mehmet had avoided taking me – the site of
Noah’s house and the two graves.  I turned and
took another shot, looking back.

As Trevor and I leapt into the car, we were
accosted by some of Mehmet’s men. We arched our
bodies low in the car, as our driver sped off.


And oh, about that baggage search, in case you
were wondering…

I still have the piece of paper that I stuffed
down behind my trousers, and that fell to the
ground…  that visa from the outlawed Kurds.

And in case you are wondering what that other
passenger did when he saw me hiding it and it
fell to the ground, I think he must have been a
Kurd, because he didn’t tell the Turkish police
what he had seen occur.

On our 8-part DVD set, “Surprising Discoveries”,
this story and others are shown.

All around the world this is being acclaimed as
an outstanding string of discoveries. I must
warn you, the DVDs are not pretentiously
produced  – but they are honest to fact. The
information on them is in top class.

To claim your copy of this amazing set, please
go to

Best wishes
Jonathan Gray

Please email me your questions. I am here to
help you  with any questions on ancient
mysteries. Just email  me at
Did you enjoy this information?
If you know someone who would find these facts
interesting, Click the URL below now to email
it to them, or copy and paste the URL below
into your  browser.

You are welcome to put it on your own website
exactly as it is, without change, including our
email  address.

No comments:

Post a Comment