THE CRY OF THE SOUL
The lives and experiences of the Africans before the advent of european travellers some five hundred years back was a steady purposeful journey down the path of penitence towards the great Purposer.
Penitence for what?
Nothing to which a finger may be put upon. The simplest answer would be – penitence for being. For being what? You are asking many questions. I'd say for being formed out of the great desert of nothingness which separates surrounds and suffuses our very-ness. It is not a crime to be formed, but it is a crime to be useless. To have a semblance of being but only so that is to be but not to be - to be of no earthly, nay heavenly use to the King. Thus, our uselessness made it necessary for us to learn a few things – skill acquisition if you will in order for us to become useful.
The lives and experiences of many people even today reflects the attitude, the cry of the soul, which hungers for its creator. The cry of a one who will be satisfied with nothing less than total reunion with that presence which had once loved him totally – the presence into which he was sucked and reframed - out from the vast and desolate emptiness which had before that characterised him.
The soul finding itself on earth, which has avowedly rejected life outside his father’s mansion and chosen to lament, to cry day and night, that is the soul, which will evolve mythologies and a system of belief which will after many generations stifle all ideas not conforming to the world picture created by his grief.
The African races in many ways is an expression of this complete unwillingness to partake of life on planet earth.
A strategy designed originally to tug at the heart strings of God. Did God like this?

23/6/2001