Gods of the minor ‘g’ cadre must however be gods and their lives must reflect this even as they seek to make gods of others. It is indeed a sacred duty to make gods of others. It is a sacred duty to wring order out of chaos, to institute justice amongst men of brutal instincts and to protect the weak and all those huddling from the elements. It is our sacred duty to govern justly, to bring about the actualisation of the will of the great and mighty God in this very world—gods must be gods and rightly so. They must talk little and think much; take little but give much. They must not sit contented in their cocoons but must reach out and evangelise much. For in giving knowledge, one will get knowledge and in giving sustenance, one gets sustenance. In giving love we get love and in giving hope, no matter how hopeless our personal situation is, we get hope, nay help. For we know not where we come from or why we came from where we were nor if going hither and thither is all that we have been ordained to do and if so the meaning of it all…”

He stopped and said directly to me, “Visualise men on the ground—moving at random from bus stop to bus stop…. Imagine you are floating in the clouds…Imagine you have a large bullhorn and with it, could make your voice heard over a large area. Your message to them should be: ’Think! Why do you need to go to where you go? Use our time wisely. Place God in your heart and think about him every second’’

He paused a while then continued: “If indeed there is a God, he will not be found by vile men or women…not by philosophers, not by those who presume to be knowledgeable… we cannot reason God into existence neither can we reason him out of existence. If there is a God, there is a God.”

Matter closed.

He came would come again and he did. He simply appeared in my cell—looking worried and miserable. He sat at the edge of my bunk saying nothing. I offered him my something to eat and drink. He ate silently then burped loudly, causing the entire prison yard to reverberate and then burst into maniacal laughter. Suddenly it was old times again.

“I lost you,” he said, “What did I do wrong?”

“I crossed the Rubicon long ago with the Nazarene,” I said in the same tone. Then announced loudly to the annoyance of my cellmate “Long obedience in the same direction is the most important thing in heaven and on the earth” quoting a source I had long forgotten.

“You’ll be rewarded,” he said.

“You too,” I replied.

He stood up and stretched. “I must be going now. I congratulate you. You have achieved real quietude in your life.

The reality of God will be yours anytime now. Tarry a while.”

“What is this reality you talk about?” I asked.

He yawned, feigning tiredness, sat again opened his mouth and uttered these words:

“The reality of Godliness when practiced then lost, leads to a rapid degradation and despoliation

of the personality of he who has lost it.”

“How so?”

Simply because the reality of God is an awesome reality. It breathes divinity into every fibre of

your being. It takes you out from despair and places you in the realm of the compulsive praisers and

worshippers of God. From penury to plenty, from sojourner to landowner. Later generations, when

they hear of your earth-walk, shall speak of you as of a god—thus the reality of God purifies your

heart—makes everything you see divine.”

“Where then is the problem?”

“The problem is that the reality of God has to be sustained. Unceasing prayer appears to be

the key. That is, unceasing and relentless communication with the object of your desire. Obedience

comes from the reality of God and enhances the realism within that reality. The reality of God may

become plucky and test your obedience. If you pass, your reward is usually great. If you fail, the pain

is yours. The reality of God is cultivated in loneliness and solitude. In contemplation, in troubles, in

long seasons of great doubting, in short spells of rapturous awakening—it never lasts long enough

because it is a very shy reality—and it fears your mind.

The mind—one of the keenest tools of survival bequeathed to you, becomes a major adversary

when the reality of God beclouds you. Like an automaton programmed to respond to stimuli,

the mind performs its duties wonderfully well: it receives information, analyses, dissects, reviews,

concludes, reviews conclusions, dismisses conclusions, requests new information, and reviews again—

ad infinitum. The mind performs with heroic aggressiveness—it should too. The reality of God

however asks for you to be quiet—for your mind to quieten itself. Be still and know that I am God!

Abraham lived and died in the reality of God. Bless his soul.”

“Bless your soul too Ay-ii,” I said and stretched my hand to shake and found I was alone. My cellmate by now was standing at one corner of the room—clearly terrified. I realised I’d been talking, voicing Ay-ii’s words out loud. There was really no Ay-ii. Not this time at least. “

Excerpt from Don Kenobi's Of gods and negroes