The Ancestral Fair
ango had always likened his imagination to a helium filled balloon rather than one filled with air.
As he rose above the wreckage of the car, a whole body feeling came over him - that as his life ended, the string had been cut and imagination had become reality, it felt immensely liberating - like stretching to flex muscles that have not been used for long.
He felt no trauma of the type normally associated with a violent death, nor did he feel in any way physically different from normal. Even his body seemed to be as solid as it was before the crash.
Yet he had no idea what to expect. He did not feel the trepidation he would have expected if there was a possibility that he was headed for a lake of Fire starring a Leering Red Devil and promising Eternal Damnation.
There was no pleasure in the thought of spending all time dressed in white robes, comfortably ensconced behind pearly gates, drinking nectar and listening to harps. After spending most of his life in Johannesburg, even hell sounded like a more attractive proposition.
Nor could he visualise himself spending eternity as an "Outraged Ancestor", preaching dire predictions on his terrified or indifferent progeny. This was a particular philosophy his parents had preached endlessly, and one he had chosen to ignore. The idea of ancestors scrutinising his life suggested voyeurism to him, and the implication was that they were a bunch of interfering old bores.
From nowhere, an extremely sour-faced elderly gentleman materialised in front of him. He was wearing a three piece suit complete with bowler hat. Instead of a tie, there was a terrifying collection of what looked like bone charms around his neck. Jango was sure that this was no heavenly emissary.
The old man sat Buddha-fashion and hovered 3 feet in the air, reading a large book titled, " The A - Z of motorcycle maintenance".
"Ah- You're the newcomer, " he began with no preliminaries ," I presume my accent is comprehensible to you. I learned it in anticipation of your arrival. Black English Speaking - Dekaff, South African with urban Zulu undertones, 1997. You're Vuyo Mseleku, popularly known as Jango - car accident on the Johannesburg-Pretoria highway - Pity about the BMW."
Jango was not amused at this dour Peeping Thabo. Didn't they have a public relations department here? Maybe this was hell.
"Just a second - where is this place and who the -er- Heaven are you ? Is this some sort of Celestial prank?"
The sour face adopted an even sourer expression, if that were possible," There are those who choose to believe that, but I don't subscribe to that particular philosophy. You're now in what we could call the Otherworld. Even here there are many theories about what exactly this world is. I like to think of it as crossing over to the other side of a mirror. Life is pretty similar to what it is on earth only, here, as individuals we have much more opportunity for higher levels of fulfilment as one person's growth here does not threaten another's space."
" And so what does that make me , a spirit? Ghost? good? bad?"
" A spirit I suppose. Good or Bad has no meaning here. Your body has no real substance here and you have no need to eat or drink, although many do so. All matter here is an illusion and only used to keep the familiar from earth around us. With training you will discover that your thoughts can create any earthly or unearthly environment around you. For now you need to familiarise yourself with this mad place. The association of African Ancestors is having their Millennial Fair. It will be an excellent way to understand life here. I have summoned Mshale on The Net, and he will meet you there. Beware though - Ancestria takes some getting used to."
" Who is Mshale?"
" Oh - sorry about that - I can never get used to the idea that most of you these days don't even know your ancestors. He's your great grandfather and quite a disreputable character even by our standards . Nonetheless, he's proven immensely popular with newcomers. Just make sure he doesn't get you into mischief. "
" May I ask who you are sir ?"
" That's none of your business, but if you insist... I am John Kariuki, I was a school teacher in Kenya in the 1950s - ex-Mau Mau and all that. Now, enough of that, let's get you out of here, I have work to do."
A computer screen materialised in front of Kariuki. Jango recognised the Netscape format on the screen with not inconsiderable surprise. The old man punched " http:// AA. JangotoMshale1@AncestralFair".
Jango was suddenly surrounded by darkness
First to appear was the bright blue banner that read " WELCOME TO THE 300TH MILLENNIAL AFRICAN ANCESTRAL FAIR"
Then the ground began to unravel itself: an unrolling carpet of hard, unrelenting African earth, tinted blue by the light from the banner. Grassland covered the ground together with Acacia trees and scrub. A minuscule shaft of light appeared on the horizon, growing rapidly and becoming the sun. Its bright white light drowned the banner and then it turned red, and the sunset burned the ground and trees with its colour. From a distance, Jango heard drums beating and they grew louder as they seemed to be coming from closer and closer.
An enormous bellow interrupted the music and it was followed by a string of curses in a combination of Zulu, English and a series of languages that Jango didn't even know existed.
" HAYIBO ! THAT FUCKING KARIUKI'S DONE IT TO ME AGAIN!!" The voice sounded much closer now and a body had begun to materialise next to Jango.
The huge sweating figure that appeared in front of him could only be Mshale, his great grandfather. He was dressed like a cross between Elvis and a Hollywood version of "What An African Warrior Should Look Like". He wore a leopard skin loincloth so short that the head of a huge dangling penis was visible below the hem. A leather waistcoat studded with rhinestones barely covered his heavily muscled torso. His hair was dreadlocked, pomaded and piled on his head - a gross parody of Elvis' hairstyle. The man even wore blue suede shoes!"
Mumbling to himself in Zulu, he tugged the hem of the loincloth down and rearranged his organ. " Damned Internet, he boomed, " it really does pick its moments. One day soon I'll get revenge on that prig of a Gatekeeper !"
" Hello, Tat'omkulu, I am Jango."
" Howdyudo bra. Call me Mshale. I don't stand on ceremony. Sorry about my outfit - I was performing a striptease for some maidens from Arabian Ancestria. I understand that you're another one who doesn't speak Zulu - eh ? Shameful!"
Jango, amazed at the ease with which Mshale was taking all this drama in his stride, and, bemused that this unlikely character could have reason to find him "shameful", could only smile.
" We don't have much time. I have a roomful of maidens baying for my presence. Lets get to the action!"
He took Jango's hand in his huge horny paw, mumbled something in Zulu and their surroundings disappeared. Before any scenes appeared before Jango, the smell assaulted him, a smell of frenzy, sweat, musk and sensual heat - a smell of abandon.
The noise followed. It was loud and disorganised, he could hear laughter, conversation, and song, in a confusing number of languages. The sheer intensity of it was extremely unnerving, it did not sound like any crowd that Jango had ever encountered. It was as if he could hear every individuals' input and everybody's drone all at once. His mind struggled to unscramble the confusion that assaulted it.
The visual scene had fully downloaded by this time. He was plunged into a maelstrom of humanity, what seemed to be a crossroad of souls rushing in all directions each hindering the other. Faces thrust themselves in his sight as he dumbly followed Mshale. Huge grins as if from a concave mirror surrounded him, laughing, chanting , singing, arguing. They were illuminated by revelation, faces overcome with amazement, eyes shining with enthusiasm, pupils dilated with joy, love, passion and intensity.
Every step made the butterflies pummel his insides with a combination of extreme enthusiasm and an equal amount of trepidation. A flood of hysterical laughter rose, threatening to engulf his control. He clenched his teeth and swallowed it down. It was promptly replaced by nausea. He much preferred that.
" Are you all right buti ?" Jango nodded, " Keep yourself together, we're nearly there. I want you to meet Senkou, a Wolof griot, he'll explain this madhouse to you much better than I could ever do."
By the time they got to the hut, Jango was ready to collapse with nerves. He felt an irrational anger that Mshale seemed unperturbed by the pandemonium around them and had, in fact been carrying out a variety of conversations with people around them with ease. He was also getting the feeling that he was stranded in some sort of Ancestral Asylum.
The hut that Mshale was leading them to was enormous and made from some sort of straw, woven into a series of complex shifting patterns. As they entered, the voices left his head and he had a wonderful feeling of emptiness.
" Welcome, young man. Take a moment to recover your equilibrium." The voice came from the other side of the hut.
" I'll leave this one with you Senkou, while I return to my fans. I'll be back later."
Jango closed his eyes and relaxed as Mshale left the hut. When he opened them, he saw a tiny middle-aged man with a wiry body and wise eyes.
" I am Senkou, a griot, and I have been here for over 300 of your years. You are Jango. I am sure you wonder what kind of hell you have come to. Your mind has yet to experience the rapture that makes our existence here a full and complete one. Soon you will have the first one and that will enable you to live among us with more ease. In time you will discover higher and higher levels of enlightenment."
" What does this mean? Some kind of meditation, chanting your karma and all that Eastern stuff?"
He was ignored
" On earth, man's purpose is to recreate himself and his environment to lift himself and become a god. As individuals, we seek to expand our spirit and the same applies to communities and families, nations and people as a whole."
" What about God, does he come anywhere in this equation of yours?"
" Many of us here believe that man and god and all ancestors will become one when humanity on earth find a common fulfilment. There is a word used by you Bantu speakers called mutu. Mutu is a person, watu are people. Man will not meet or become god until mutu becomes big MUTU. Big MUTU is the single organism that all men have been trying to become since evolution began. The first living cell on earth reproduced because there were ample resources on earth for it to spread itself. Humanity wants to bring this evolution full circle. Mutu has already began to take charge of evolution.
Free will, in contrast to the old Mastery and Servitude will reduce the world to a specific idea, a single formula, one of incredible simplicity and yet it will be the answer to all, and the beginning of the next phase of evolution."
" I am not sure I understand." The idea that he was stuck in this place for eternity practising this odd cult was beginning to alarm Jango.
Senkou laughed, " The idea frequently puzzles me too, and I have been looking for answers for a while now. The Mother, whom you may know on earth as Lucy, who has been traced by genetics, was the first self-aware being, and the woman from whom all humans descended from 4.5 million years ago, resides in Ancestria and has been seeking these answers too.
Scientists and thinkers who have been here at the Otherworld for long have their own theories but no real answers. But that mutu is heading to become MUTU there is no doubt. Mama Lucy will see you as soon as you experience the first rapture and some things will become clearer. I would suggest that the best way for you to begin is to recall pertinent times in your life, times that you found important or that gave you insights that you believe will lead you to fulfil yourself in a complete manner. Remember this . On earth most people keep their minds firmly solid unless they are either extremely liberated, or insane as earth people see it. This is because one cannot survive with ones mind as a free flowing fluid that has no restrictions. Here, there are no restrictions."
" How do I know what to look for."
"You don't really. The whole process is random and you should just glide along your life and re-experience certain aspects that intrigue you. You see, you are now able to stand aside and look back at your life and feel what you felt then when you want to. It gives a certain perspective, because you can see some of the things you did right or wrong.
"Morally you mean?"
"Not really, you are looking to discover what aspects of yourself you want to develop now that you have the capacity you didn't have on Earth. Now, close your eyes and look at my fingers."
Senkou's fingers danced in front of Jango's eyes. They moved so quickly that Jango struggled to concentrate and catch their shifting patterns. Somewhere along the line, he fell into a trance. He was the world of his University days in Transkei and looking at himself and Musa, the mad returned exile he had befriended.
Jango was not the type to be intimidated by anybody, but Musa had always made him feel very uneasy with his brooding silence. He had befriended Musa in College in Transkei, where there was a serious shortage of good reads. Jango was a voracious , almost obsessive reader and had recognized the same addiction in Musa, and they frequently exchanged books they had begged, borrowed or sniffed out with their acute sense for a good read , however torn or camouflaged it was.
Musa was a short slight man, with a Xhosa father and Tanzanian mother. His face was perpetually drawn, with hollowed out cheeks and a narrow slash of a mouth. His eyes were what caught people off guard. They had a strange animal urgency and inward penetration , as if they were looking backward rather than forward, the pupils aimed in the wrong direction, seeing only the contents of his mind.
What also scared Jango about Musa was the great intensity he exuded. Jango frequently talked to like - minded people about books. He couldn't resist himself and when he had completed a great journey of a book , he always felt he had to share the experience or he would burst with the sheer exhilaration of the experience.
Musa on the other hand, rarely spoke of his readings. He seemed to have this boundless capacity to internalize the experience and let the collective experiences and insights ferment inside him. Jango remembered visiting him in his room when Musa had just completed an all night orgy with his latest discovery- an eclectic collection of twentieth century poetry and drama in one huge volume containing extracts form the works of a diverse array of writers, from Dylan Thomas to Wole Soyinka, Christopher Okgipo to James Joyce, Satre to Kafka.. He found Musa exuding such focused and internalized excitement, that he was sweating with the experience and his eyes were glazed as if he was in a trance. The sense of the book was palpable to Jango who hadn't read , but it in the same way that the smell of alcohol oozes out of the pores of a person who has drunk too much, had felt the presence of the book exuding from Musa. Jango had recoiled from the potency of this and left the room. He had avoided Musa since then and later learned that he had failed all his courses at college and had committed suicide.
In way he had always envied Musa's ability to distill what he had read into a hard spirit , and consume it undiluted where it joined the masses of hot, brewing literature that burnt his soul with it's sheer potency.
It was as if , unlike Jango , he possessed no self protecting valve that released the things he could not handle, no in-built fuse that caused shutdown when the experience was too intense to handle. Nevertheless, Jano had envied Musa for the sheer intensity if his experiences and frequently felt that he fell way short of him in that regard.
.The next flashback was to the age of ten and he remembered that this was the age that he got caught flat-footed by the assault of his sexuality. He could feel his presence in his locked bedroom stewing in sexual fervor as he wrote pages and pages of vermilion prose that frequently involved scantily clad sex goddesses stranded in a desert island with gorilla-like King-Kong creatures. There was never any real sex, the mere suggestion of rampant testosterone in the monster and the soft femininity in the women was enough to send him to orgasm. He rarely wrote more than a few paragraphs before his hand was irresistibly driven crotch-wards
Jango was overwhelmed by the power of the sensuality he had felt then. There was no fear of the dark side of sexuality, or of the vulnerability of fantasizing with complete freedom. There was no restriction to his fantasies then, no peer pressure to conform. Later the vague suggestion of what he discovered to be "perversion" and even a mild homosexuality was terrifying and was consigned to the "this never happened" bin at the back of his subconscious. He recalled that, unlike frequent experiences later in life, orgasms never left him satisfied yet depressed but at complete peace and feeling a mellow pleasantness.
As if on cue, Mshale's voice invaded what was about to become a very messy reverie.
" Sorry to catch you at this ..er� critical time, but I thought you could use some of insight about what is going on."
"Your timing is just as bad as Kariuki's. I was about to ravish an Abyssinian princess," Jango's voice sounded wobbly.
"Stick with me long enough and you might just get to meet a real one. It seems we have overlapping tastes. My sympathies, it seems you descended from a long line of perverts. Senkou says the trick is to slough off all the bullshit you accumulated during your life and free space to find your virgin self, your pure soul, or the version of it you prefer. When I first came I thought that was all shit, but hey, my sex life is miles better than it ever was on Earth."
" The next part will be difficult, but you have to go through with it, it encourages the breakthrough . You have to be strong for this Buti, its like going to the mountains-it can affect the rest of your life. You don't want to end up like that old dried up yam Kariuki who can't face his demons, he's tried everything from hocus pocus to Buddism. Everything, of course, except facing himself. That poor man is so terrified of Ancestria, he lives outside the gate. You know, a man can be a great warrior, but facing himself requires the most courage. Ah - enough of that. Ready for round two ? "
Any doubts Jango may have had were quickly dispelled by the thought of ending up as a gatekeeper, always too timid to join in the fun.
" Let's get it over with."
" That's the spirit, I'll introduce you to some lovely ladies tomorrow, you can even go as King Kong if you want to, "
Jango laughed ," You voyeur, you were peeking ! I'll get you for that!"
" Its just revenge for you catching me with my loincloth hiked up, anyway I couldn't resist a peek when I heard you growling, " Senkou! " he called, " We're ready for you!"
The griot materialized in front of them. He had a big, round, wooden drum that Jango recognized from his readings as a Tchun, a drum favoured by the Segou people of West Africa.
" Lie down on the mat and relax."
Jango found it easier to relax than he had expected, and realised that Mshale had deliberately tried to relieve his tension.
The drum began, that distinctive West African percussion sound that went beyond rhythm and took on a melody. The echoes of it's song bounced around the walls of the hut and Jango found himself spellbound by it's sound, as it slowly took over his thoughts and became a Mantra he chanted with his whole mind.
Senkou began to mumble in a foreign dialect. Jango felt the words probe painfully at the core of his mind as if all the filters and barriers were redundant and the tender essence of his self lay open for the first time.
"Close your eyes," He continued in his sing- song," the peels are now gone, you have a brief period to examine your mind. Do not be hesitant."
He released his thoughts like an wild animal in the bush, let them take him wherever the bad scents led. He felt his mind bloom with relentless energy and he was transported to a dark part of himself.
The assault caught him completely by surprise. A compressed memory bludgeoned his mind with an explosion of colour, sound and fear so intense that Jango automatically curled up into a foetal position and covered his traumatised eyes and ears. He could smell the acrid sweat from his armpits.
His head felt like it would burst. It seemed that the memory had activated every available synapse and they were throbbing with urgency. Flashes of wheels moving frenziedly and huge amorphous faces with insane grins and banshee like laughs brought on a sick feeling of familiarity.
It was a nightmare that had plagued him from earliest childhood until he was about thirteen. He was in a pram-like contraption that was rolling unaided down a busy street. Huge terrifying faces of adults peered at him laughing and cooing unaware of their grotesque expressions and pungent smells. The terror was exacerbated by his inability to communicate his dilemma to these terrifying creatures.
The pram was moving faster and he had no control. As it picked up speed, the sounds became more shrill, the faces stretched into impossible expressions and the terror increased. His breath came in quick, short gasps as he squirmed helplessly. His body seemed infinitely frail, something unable to handle even the gentle games of this foreign universe, doing nothing except produce waves of fear and streams of sweat.
The sounds began to sound like a chant and it seemed like all the people on the street had united in a conspiracy to jeer at his helplessness. There was an extraordinary contradiction in speeds. People around him merged into a few huge faces, contorted in expressions of horrified joy, moving changing shape slowly, looking like reflections from liquid mirrors. At the same time, the pram was building its momentum and his insides quivered with the nearly untenable feeling of thousands of fluttering butterflies.
Finally came the feeling that nobody would assist him. The pram was hurtling down the street and nothing could be done about it. The pressure was too intense to bear and his body shut down, his muscles relaxed, unable to sustain the strain. A foul smell filled the pram as he soiled his nappy.
Jango awoke to a more mature version of that smell. He could not find it in himself to feel embarrassed. He was completely drained. Far away was the sound of the drum fading away.
Jango felt himself being lifted in the air. " Phew... uyanuka buti !" Mshale growled. " Relax, you will soon be clean and ready to rest. You did well, the first step is always the hardest."
He let himself slip into mindless unconsciousness.
Jango woke up in a hot bath. Two bare breasted maidens were washing him.
"Sawubona Jango. These wonderful women are Zintle and Rehema. They are good friends of mine and they helped me achieve my rapture. They are very lluminated and will offer you a lot of help when you get to know them better."
Zintle's hands were doing exquisite things to the knotted muscles of his back," Welcome to Ancestria Jango," she whispered," you owe me a bath now, nhe?"
Jango groaned, he was too exhausted to reply coherently.
"Shh...don't say anything. It is time to rest. You have taken the first step and now you can transport yourself to a place of peace. Remember your mind is all now and your body has no substance. You can rise above the body unlike what happened in your dream. ALL you need to do is let go of your fear and hang on to your mind, not your body. Think of where you would most like to go, and just go. It is that easy."
His thoughts traveled to Zululand as he recalled a childhood trip. His mother had taken him there for a year when his father had taken a second wife. The hills had embraced his loneliness and he had fallen in love with the wilderness, the motherly concern of his countless relatives, and the endless space. Nothing could have been further away from the vicissitudes of Johannesburg.
He remembered his grandmother. The pungent smell of smoke from her hut that clung to her and the explosive sneezes when she inhaled tobacco. The raspy croak that wove her memories into a life-mat full of Magic and Reality; Witches and Family History; Heroes, Cowards, Fools and People of Great Wisdom...
Mentally exhausted and warmly enclosed in the womb-like warmth of the hut, Jango fell asleep immediately and deeply. In his dream he met a headless giant.
"Who are you ?" he asked the giant.
" I am the Word, and the Word is with me. The word is each of you and all of you. The physical Earth is darkness, and life is bringing light to it."
"Where is your head?"
The giant laughed, " In billions of pieces. You will have sight of it as it comes together."
The giant turned into a shape of the earth, blue and bright. She was shaped like a human heart, pumping away. A living organism.
Then the earth turned into a likeness of a brain, and Jango found himself inside it. He was swimming in a nourishing liquid at the bottom of a cavern shaped like an inverted funnel.
He felt a burning desire to swim up the funnel , to be part of the light at the end of it. Swimming was hard, as currents buffeted him in all directions and his thoughts were jumbled. He began to be pushed back. The harder he struggled, the further down he was pushed.
Exhausted, he stopped trying to use brute force, his muscles relaxed. He let the currents carry him at their will as he ventured into virgin eddies and currents, enjoying the new sensations and thoughts.
Jango absorbed the nourishment they gave him and an immense lassitude overtook him. He felt drunk, his thoughts were heady and his body began to tingle. The sensations started to intensify, and adrenaline flooded his body.
The thoughts were too fleeting! Whole Universes of ideas tantalised him. Restlessness overcame him and he reached out with all the power of his mind to grab hold of anything - a grand idea, an illuminating vision, anything! Nothing stuck in his mind, he was unable to take possession of anything of substance. This was incredibly frustrating as his mind had discovered a voracious appetite, a whole series of empty new stomachs, churning away with no curd to absorb the burning acids..
Then he heard the roar, like that of an approaching waterfall.
He looked around him and saw that he had reached the area where all the currents met and he was lifted and carried along with them. He was going up the shaft of the funnel and he could see the light at a distance. The shaft grew narrower and he could feel the moist, warm fleshiness of its walls. The powerful currents of Knowledge and Awareness pushed and the muscles of the walls contracted. The second push and contraction was even more powerful and he was pushed through the valve to the other side. It was light on the other side.
Jango awoke feeling complete and vindicated in a way he never had before. Every nerve ending felt raw and he was burning with the feeling of new life.
For a large part of his earthly existence, he had believed that there was rapture to be discovered with the deflowering of each hymen that opened up a new creative or intellectual universe. Now he felt the voracious hunger for discovery of a child, with whole universes of possible understanding opened up for exploration.
He understood that these universes were endless, and when each hymen was ruptured, the new Universes fed the soul and caused rebirth.
He saw that these Universes could overwhelm one, especially on earth, the way many great geniuses have been driven to lunacy. He also saw that few in the world were ever reborn in this way, some because of fear, others because of their environment. Others, (like him) hovered at the very top of their known universes and tried to ram, coax, slide through to the other side without much success.
What he found amusing was that in the same sense that the most arbitrary and subjective factors can be more successful than a blunt or objective demand when attempting to seduce a virgin, many people were surprised to find themselves in a new universe when least seeking to do so. A dream, a song, an aimless argument , anything could be the spark.
Finally he understood that there were those (Wole Soyinka, Bhudda, Einstein, Jesus Christ, Descartes, Mozart, and even his eccentric and mystical maternal grandfather, Mushe) who found themselves swimming in Universes that many people of their time could not even acknowledge existed. These trailblazers drew paths for the rest of humanity to follow to get there. Some of these lead into mazes and some others to dead ends, but overall they were the way to understanding.
As the first rays of morning light punctured their way through the straw roof of the hut, Jango leapt out of bed and ran outside naked. The colours of Zululand seemed too intense and he had to squint. Although the sun's rays were still weak, for some reason they hurt his skin.
Standing on a dune, as naked as he was, was a very strongly muscled woman with large hips and breasts and dark bronzed skin. As he came closer to her he noticed that she was very short, at most 5 feet tall. Her face, though human looking, was extremely strong featured and had a harsh and unrelenting look of endurance. It was her eyes, though, that caught his attention. Wide-spaced, clear and ageless, they were the colour of earth.
" Embrace me, my child. You were from me and now you have returned to me."
Jango began to cry silently as her arms encircled him strongly and they stood wordlessly together. Her warmth and smell were strange , but there was an overwhelming familiarity to them. It was a while before any of them spoke.
" I rather like your lot, you know. The nineteen nineties. It's been the harnessing time of your century. You have gathered the past together as best as you can and you have sown the seeds of a dramatic future as well."
Jango was taken aback to hear her sound so contemporary. "Mama Lucy, I cannot even begin to imagine how long you have been here for, how much you have seen!"
She laughed, a guttural, bottom-of-the-belly sound," I brought up nine children in a very hostile environment. The others wanted to kill me , you know, for being a mutant. I am very adaptable."
" You said we have sowed the seeds of a dramatic future in the 90's, what does that mean - the conquering of space ?"
" No- and you should realise that I can only make informed opinions about the future based on what I have witnessed over the Millennia. The nineties have seen technology acquire a human face, in film, art and even what you call household items. What concerns me more is the development of big MUTU. You see, for the first time , big MUTU has developed a brain. This thing you call the Internet, this is the stem of the brain. It will eventually be the compilation of the complete human experience. In time this Internet or an off-shoot of it will show the personality of MUTU, as a clear and distinguishable one, an amalgam of the genetic differences, creations, insights, extremities, ordinariness, loves, hates, passions and visions of Watu. change and stasis.
It will be the source of all fulfilment and Inner growth through shared experience. It will replace all the -isms that so unnaturally rule man.
The era of the nation/state will fade away and Individuals will become the masters of their own fate more than ever before-The Sovereign Individual, belonging to the Nation called Humanity."
" And it comes full circle for you doesn't it mama ? We all trace our genes to you , you were the single source- and now we will all be linked as one organism, all Lucy's offspring !"
The sun had crept up above the horizon. As Mama Lucy took his hand, and Jango looked forward to a new day.
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