[The Mystery Man

1. [The Mystery Man]

It was a Saturday morning, my age was 11yrs old at that time. I was young, naïve, not so very shy and outspoken, a bit troublesome- but acceptable enough for a boy my age, atleast I did not raise eye brows or cause my parents heart attack. On this particular day I was out with friends, playing around the neighborhood, with whatever we deemed suitable to be used as means to play. It was a norm every day that, my great grandma-who we stayed with at that time in Zwelitsha township- East of Namaqualand, used to wake up in early hours of the morning to cook maize soft porridge, and got pots ready for her Sunday meal the next day and refrigerate them. She would do breakfast for her whole household of 20 people or so, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, my mother, her daughters and granddaughters. My home was a full family house, with accommodating shacks on our outside yard and a flat that was built by one of my uncles who went to stay in a new built township opposite ours called Sweetwater's, along with his wife and two boys. Great grandma Maria- was her name, was a pillar of the home, a Christian rooted woman from the Assemblies of God congregation, which was five minutes' walk from our home, and pioneered by a faith healer from KZN called Nicholas Bhengu. My great grandma was in her own right a neighborhood preacher, revered, feared, and a very influential woman. I remember that my siblings had to smuggle alcohol in the premises at home in fear of her, or those who brought their girlfriends in their shacks insured that she did not see them. She pride herself with resilience and courage in how she took care of her family without a husband, because she was a divorcee at that time, returning from Middledrift with her six children at age 35 in the 1950's and settled in Zwelitsha when it was still being built due to factories that were set in the area. She got her first job at hotel in nearby town called King William's Town. She then submitted an application for the new houses that were built, and the day she came to see if her application was through, and standing in a que, an Annunaki man signaled to her to come to her office. Even though there were others before her, who were not happy about her being called by the Annunaki man before them, but she went and the Annunaki man asked why she wanted a house, and she delivered a short synopsis of some her motivational speeches, that she impressed him enough to issue a house to her to choose from the list of the vacant ones, even though there were others before her-mostly man, who were not happy about this. My great grandma would beat her chest in pride citing that "I am both mother and father of this house''. Our home was almost like haven, for siblings, visitors and especially church members who came during conventions and would be accommodated by her. We were never rich, but we survived, and never went to bed on an empty stomach. Maria was a pensioner by the time I was growing up from serving 28yrs as a cook in Grey Hospital, and greatly respected in her profession both by patients, nurses and doctors. She had countless stories she repeatedly narrated all of our lives, and had great speaking story telling abilities, you would be glued to her renditions of grandeur vocations of her biography, which hailed her as a great woman-phenomenal in all her expressions. One couldn't help but admire Maria, and we would see often visits of colleagues of Annunaki folks dropping her in a black Chevrolet by the house, or friends who came to pay her visits and reminiscence the past together to validate her stories. As soon as she served us breakfast of eggs, bread and tomato soup-that we called bisto, she would release all of us kids to go play outside, and return in the afternoon for dinner and take our baths, and return again to our adventures outside with other kids, and expected us to return before sunset-before the street lights were on, and if one moves passed that curfew, one would have to prepare and brace oneself for a hiding or one of our uncles who came to look for us and to stop our activity. I was always one of those kids who never played too far from home, and would come back always to check in now and again, unlike my other siblings, who would get lost in play the entire day without ever pitching at home, and return late in the evening before sunset for supper, bath and off to bed. If it would happen if I have disappeared like that too, everyone would be concerned and seek for my whereabouts. The only time I would really disappear, it would be due to a fight I had at home with my great grandma or either one of my siblings, and I would storm out angrily, especially if I was innocent in whatever the disagreement would be about. I would mostly roam around the house if not out with friends, write my stories or drawings on my solitary time, or rather play with my imaginary friends or decide to clean around the house.

I would sweep, mop, shift furniture around, polish the verandah and make it look like an Annunaki person's porch. This gesture would please my great grandma, and she would lavish me with praises and blessings. This made me feel so loved and valuable, and my childhood ego fed on this attention somehow, because the outside world didn't very much understand me or valued me, nor fully embraced me. I always felt like an existential orphan, looking at life almost like from the outside, and I was merely here by chance, given birth by a mom who was merely a child herself, as she was 15yrs when she gave birth to me, and I always felt like a mistake of an unplanned birth-which a part of my subconscious self was resentful to my Mom for it. But these underlying emotions began to change due to time, with the more understanding of myself-so I referred to myself more as a 'wanderer'. A lady friend of ours who stayed with her mom and sister in a shack next door our house, whose mother ran a tavern in her shack, and thus always the girl had money. On this day she was sent to a supermarket a distant away from our neighborhood. She then asked myself and my other friend to escort her and promised to buy us chocolate slabs which were famous and sold in a nearby house by the supermarket. A packet costed R2 and we would even save our lunch money at school for them, I was a fan of sweet staff, especially chocolates and cakes. Most of my peers were a fan of those chocolates too, I myself was mostly enchanted and almost tempted to do anything with any promise of hope in accessing them. I remember that whilst a teen, I used to go to my aunts place in town for weekends, and on Sunday evenings there used to be combined church services across denominations, mostly hosted by Annunaki churches, and after the service there would be refreshments of cakes and other goodies served. This was my best part of the service, regardless how boring it was and their late coming at night, and would have to walk a distance at times to my Aunt's house, but the gratification of the goodies after service made it all worthwhile. I would tell my cousins about the experience, and would have only few staff I brought with to share with them that I shoved into my pockets privately. Soon enough, on the next combined service, as it happened once a month, they would follow me, even though one of my cousins, who was my aunts daughter, who loved food so much, would embarrass us, by packing all the goodies in her dress, as she didn't have pockets and some fell, and she would scoop down and put them back on her dress she used as a bag, to everyone stare and shock to this Namaqua big sized child making a fool of herself around free food. Our lady friend from the tavern next door promised to buy my friend and myself the chocolates due to my reluctance to accompany her, because she knew that I was not very much keen type to long distance walks, especially away from home. Whilst on our way with her, I felt dizzy, and asked them to sit on a stone close by the house we passed through on our way, which had a local shop in it called ''Be quite". They allowed me to sit down and rest myself a bit, appalled as to what was going on with me, because it was not very hot and was still morning. I felt persistently nausea and very weak, and told them that I won't be able to accompany with, I wasn't feeling well, and beckoned them to go without me. They eventually left me there, also convinced that I must really not be feeling okay, for I would have let nothing stand between me and that famous chocolate. As I tried to regain my strength for few minutes, breathing in and out, and attentive as to what was happening inside my body, a short man came nearby me, who was making his way to the shop in the yard I was at also, he stopped and asked me if I was my mother's child, calling her by her name. I figured that it might be a friend or schoolmate of hers, I then nodded yes to his bizarre question, waiting for his next response, interested what he wanted to ask. He then said confidently ''Blessed are you, O' favored one of God'. My stomach immediately had butterflies, and goose bumps jumping my back down my spine, as he laid his hand on my head, like an elder offering blessings. He then moved backwards and carried on his way to the shop and left me stunned, my heart pounding, confused at what had taken place, trying to figure out within myself what all this implied. I was miraculously feeling better from how I did a moment ago, and had by now enough strength to run home, with fear engulfing my racing heart as I ran to my great grandma's house. By now my grandma was taking a break from her house chores and laying on her bed. I stormed in her room, gasping for air, trying to get a grip of myself. I narrated the story to her as to what had just currently took place, but the story was grandeur to her, in her own wild imaginations she saw me being prophesied at in being something great in the distant future, and it fed into her own grandeur narratives of the hope of glory unfolding in her family genealogy with me, and that she had been part of its making. I did not share in her excitement at the time, so I left her in her praises and fantasies of the glorious future, and I went on my expedition of searching for the ''mystery man'' at the yard with the shop, but he had already left. I followed the possible directions he could have taken, and by chance I found him making his way to a closer neighborhood called ''Gomorrah''. I called for him as he walked forward, and as I ran towards him calling "Brother, uncle'', he stopped and waited for me, and had a gentle smile on his face. I asked what his words meant, and he said they meant what they meant, and that I am a special boy, troubled at heart, and would be facing a lot of troubles in my upbringing, but that there was a great call on my life, and that I should continue praying and building my relationship with my maker. He said I would not be believed much about my stories, I would be belittled, rejected, persecuted, but that I must never let any of those setback break me, because in the end, my light, my life and the gifts bestowed upon me, will show and shine in the end. He blessed me again, as I once again quietly, tried to take in everything he was telling me, he blessed me as he laid his hand on top my head, and immediately the wind arose, carrying dust in the air and making small whirlwind covered in dust. Benevolence and halo carried in that moment, and a grandeur perspective engraved in my heart as the 'mystery man' being an angel in disguise.

I went home stunned and overwhelmed by the events of that day, most of my family members I told about the story later on, including my siblings in town, did not believe me and thought I was making up the story. I too, like my great grandma Maria, I was showing storytelling abilities and exaggerations to gain attention, atleast according to them. I had also started to write my narratives, though with a poor English, and a less command of language as I grew to have, and with a zeal of a childish perspective into things. The day disappeared beyond the horizon, wiping its events with it, only to exist in the memorabilia of my consciousness. Few times after that I had seen the 'mystery man' in my neighborhood, and apparently he was known, and I sought to approach him again and ask him of that day which transpired between the two of us, that most of my siblings didn't believe. I sought for validation and elaboration more on his words, but to my surprise, he didn't remember ever saying that to me, or meeting me with any of the events I was claiming of. I was very much confused, perhaps he had a twin I thought, but with my investigating of him, I realized he did not have a twin, and many times I would see him after then, he was either dirty and under intoxication. I was puzzled and lost as to what all this meant, for I was adamant of that day and all its events, and recalled each word he told me, but here he was denying me and that I probably mistaken him for someone else. The motion of the 'mystery man' was dispelling from me, and all I had was a story, that had no alibi, and as I grew it seemed like that day's events disappeared in the fiber of my imaginations. I grew meeting the good for nothing drunkard, who remained as the memory of the 'mystery man' behind the core of my imagination. I never mentioned the story again, but it lingered in my soul, and I would forever search for its confirmations as long as I lived. My great grandma clearly never forgot the story, because she carried on with her grandeur narratives on the unfolding of my destiny, and spent her last days anticipating a hero's welcome in the regards of my unfolding destiny.

Soon after the events of the 'mystery man' my life changed dramatically, with nightmares engulfing my experience and sudden disturbance of my sleeping pattern. I had dreams of snakes biting me, chasing me. I would hardly sleep, and felt that the snake was actually present in my blankets, and would wake everyone at home, whether I was in town at my aunts place or my great grandma's place. I would be literally sweating, standing on top of the bed, demanding lights be turned on. It seemed as If I was losing my mind, and my family tried to put me at ease to my nightmares, praying and convincing me that this was all in my mind. I would sometimes run to my grandma's room and asked she prayed and if I could sleep by her, she would agree reluctantly, but still emphasized that there was no such a thing, this was all in my imagination. My siblings made fun of me due to this, but it was something beyond my control, and not any stunt for attention. This affected my social life, it made me weird, and an out of touch with reality- ''type'' of a kid. There were concerns of my mental state, because of our family history of mental instability, as the mother of my aunt in town, who was one of my great grandma's daughters, had such instability mentally and on medication prescription, along with her sister whose Uncle Lion's son. My Aunts mother's instability was on and off, from her teenage life up until to adulthood and old age, seeing things that nobody else saw, they took her to be put on machines in mental hospital to be choked on her head in trying to trigger her mind back to social norm. I was taken to church to be prayed on, also a pastor came to our house in town to pray, and few days later, a snake was discovered inside the home cupboard and killed. I also became very sickly since as a child with asthma, which forced my mom to later on quit her high school to look after me, as I spent many time in hospital. I was never diagnosed with schizophrenia or some mental disorder, except for being hyper and an exaggerative imagination that time. Few years later, however, as I grew, my dreams seemed less scary as I entered teenage hood, they became more of a norm, and had to adapt to the notion that this was only my imagination at play with me. I then built my own mechanism around the nightmares to calm myself, spent a whole deal of time praying, reading the bible, attending Sunday school, church services and tent revivals meetings of evangelists and prophets who would visit our neighborhood. I felt at peace at church, but mostly I felt more peace alone, in my solitariness of my home garden, where we used to play with my cousins by my aunts place mostly. I would create a church, circled around with stones, with two gutter pipes as columns at the door, and flowers on its entrance on top of the columns, with a 'Welcome Home' note as mat décor as I used to see in many homes, and had chairs made of big bricks and a cross on the wall. When all the kids had went home, and night time was falling, I would enter my church, sit on the chair and gaze at the cross on the wall and talk to God. Sometimes I would climb on top of the roof, which my aunt used to scold me for doing so, as it posed danger to me, but I would persist with the habit when they were not aware and sneak to climb, for during the night it was epic for me as I felt closer to the stars. Eventually serenity would return to me, and my nightmares downsized and dispersed on their grip over my mind. The panic, short of breath I used to have every time it would be night time also downsized, and my quest for spiritual fulfillment invaded the empty space. Six years later, I had just turned 16 and late on Saturday evening I was eating my supper and rushing to attend a tent revival in a park near where we stayed, of a Ghanaian prophet from Switzerland. Most of my life that time revolved around church and had become norm for me now, with not so many friends, but with the bible and God as my companion, who had replaced my childhood imaginary friends. My cousins would still join me on my church expeditions and excursions due to my enticing advertisement of either food, or miracles which took place during some service-of people falling without being touched, vibrating on the floor or speaking with strange tongues and healings that took place of people who were brought in bad conditions. These events were my grandeur moment of motivating me of going to church even more, and had my own dream that perhaps one day, I too will be a magician and perform the same signs, and I had a yearning that I too could experience what other people experienced there when they fell under power. After my night meal, the time was about six to seven o'clock, my cousins and I ran all the way towards the park to attend the tent service of the prophet, and bypassed another family friend called AK, who was more like family now, and we both had attended primary together in Charles Morgan. The tent was now packed, electrifying music in the air, people's spirits uplifted, as though there was even smoke on the atmosphere, it felt great to be in that space, waiting in anticipation as what would take place. After all the magic performances the prophet performed, which amazed all the audience there, and shocked many on the level of his accuracy in detailing people's lives that he did not know nor ever met till that moment. This man reminded me of the 'mystery man', though more real, not a making of my imaginations, dazzling with magic powers during his performance, a tall and handsome dark skinned man, with bracket legs-almost like a model, with a crispy baritone voice and a serious, frightening stare. The service was near closure, and people were now giving out testimonials of healings that took place and confirmations of prophecies that went out. We had now gathered in front of the stage and podium for issuing of grace by the prophet and disperse to our homes. I was a bit tired as one last lady was going through testimonial, and decided to squat on the ground. The prophet gazed at me intensely, which made me very uncomfortable, he reached for my hand and stood me up, by then my heart was racing with fear, thinking he will reveal my secrets, or perhaps had disapprove of my squatting during service whilst everyone stood on their feet for grace. I was embarrassed, shy and agitated as he didn't say anything, but just intensively gazed at me in an attentive listening mode, as if he was downloading an Intel communication from another dimension or some source about me. After the lady had finished talking, which I hoped she never stopped, because I was afraid as what seemingly was yet to come for me, exactly at the time the service was closing. He took the microphone from her, and everyone's attention was in that he would now say something about this small child. My siblings were looking at me with concern from a distance from me, and my heart didn't stop from pounding. The prophet spoke generally a bit about all the testimonials, asked us to applaud for the events of the day, and whilst we clapped, he asked us all to close our eyes for grace so that we depart home. My heart began to cool down, thinking perhaps he changed his mind or would speak with me privately after service, a part of me was keen to know what he saw and yet another part relieved that he didn't say anything, as I did not know what to expect. People's attention on me was also deviated during that moment, and I thought to myself what a close one, and nothing to be worried about, but suddenly whilst eyes closed, waiting for his rendition of grace, the prophet suddenly said ''you know this boy'' and everybody started to open their eyes as he moved towards me, this was the unfolding of the 'mystery man' drama, replaying again before my eyes, but now in the presence of many, including my siblings. He continued to say ''he shall be raised as a prophet like unto myself. His life will touch many lives of the young people. He will speak things that will amaze mankind. He will dream dreams that would come to pass, speak things that will happen. He will have healing power, and like David, raised at 16yrs to be in a higher rank, so shall he be raised to a higher rank- that even the dead shall be raised in his hands.'' People were shocked, looked at this frail looking boy with ewe and amazement at such a grandeur future I seemingly had. This dark, skinny, unattractive boy would be a star in the future. The prophet even went on to say that ''he shall be used mightily and that even now there is an elderly woman pressuring heaven to use him''. I knew the elder woman could nobody else be but my grandma and her grandeur expectations of my promising future being more glorious. The event folded and we all dispersed home, captivated by the events of that day, my siblings were going on and on about what was said about me, seeing me for the first time in the light of celebrity status, and not just a nobody who lived in the shadows. As for me, I was still appalled, amazed and shocked, but less excited, and trying to make meaning of all these events that seemed to follow me, and how they would affect my own life. The last time I heard such words from the 'mystery man', my life was followed by attacks, darkness, nightmares, trauma, and wondered what this time entails for me, in my reenacting scenario of "Macbeth and the Oracle" experiences that seem to follow my path, and now had grown louder for all to hear, this scared me than excited me, and I wondered, what would then follow this grandeur narration of my possible future, which was always the opposite of whatever that was said.

Few days or weeks later, around five o'clock after dinner, the sun slowly moving towards sunset. I was at my aunt's place, laying on the floor, reading a book I picked from the library, by a guy called Robert Liardon, titled 'The quest for spiritual hunger'. A grey taxi of a middle aged Ghanaian woman, who worked as a nurse at Cecelia Makiwana, and staying few blocks from our street parked near our house. The woman loved me so much, and she was a staunch Christian, and use to take us to church meetings with her, she instilled the passion in me of being a "God chaser"- like the book of Tommy Tenney's and I had left Assemblies of God to join her church in Abundant Life. She was very fond of me and on this day she came out of her car, and amazingly was with the prophet from Switzerland. They entered together, while I laid on the passage floor reading my book, the prophet before he passed to the lounge to where my aunt sat, knelt before me and took my book and gazed its cover, while the middle aged woman by the name of Christina stood beside us smiling, he spoke out the authors name and the title of the book, and said it was the author of another book he was preparing to write titled "God's Generals'' and was a great author, greatly used by God. He placed the book down, stood up and went to the lounge to greet my aunt and they sat together and conversed grown up conversation. He then said to my aunt whilst I was on the floor reading, that a time would come, when the sons of Joshua generation will be revealed, and that I too will be part of them. I took a note of all these statements, and were woven in the fiber of my being, waiting with wonder on their manifestation, and on how all this shall be, pondering at their practicality and implication in reality.

A year later, I had intensive nightmares, being strangled in my dreams, dragged out of bed by unforeseen forces. I had a demonic oppression, that I had to visit the Ghanaian woman-sister Christine, and told her of my predicament and that I couldn't even focus even at school, to an extent that, I ended up failing my grade 11 that year. The prophet had gone back to Switzerland by that time, and to return in few months' time. Sister Christine would then pray for me, and told me that there is an attack on my life, which is trying to fight my destiny, and that I was still young to move in my anointing, and it was so great, that I needed wisdom to apply it because it could even destroy me. The prophet had adopted me to be part of his Ent rouge, and on his return he was to hold a service in one location outside of town, and we drove there with Sister Christine taxi. My cousins and aunt also came along, with some of my friends to the service, and it was held on a Saturday evening in April 27th- which is a freedom day in Namaqualand. The service was epic, little did I know that again, I had an appointment with the magic moment. Whilst the prophet prayed for people, and I was at the back, not really expecting anything to happen on my part, but whilst with my eyes closed, I was knocked by an unknown energy to the floor, which electrified my body on the floor almost half an hour. I had an out of the body experience while on the floor, as I could see my body lying there, moving like a python snake, I could also see the crowd, and the prophet also coming to kneel before me shouting ''lose your hands upon the anointed one''. My body started to shake even more, crawling on the floor like a snake, as if I was one. I then saw a being, in a figure of a man, with white garments on, his whole body shone like a light bulb or fire, with golden hair and beard, moving around the space, then I was back in my body, but still unconscious. I could hear what was happening around me, but it was difficult to regain to consciousness, I tried standing up, but I seemed drunk, and staggered, then fell on the floor again, and I could hear kids commenting who were supposedly looking at me, commenting that it was if I was drunk and they giggled. I woke up at home, in my bed, an hour later. Apparently I was taken to the taxi and then home, since I was still unconscious, and the whole event felt like a dream.

The next day everyone was looking for me because everyone was interested to know what happened to me, and I had to communicate my experience. I have always been known as a story teller, exaggerative, a trait I seemingly inherited from my great grandma. A part of me also doubted if everything was just not part of my imaginations, but I recalled everything, and this time, I had an audience as witness to my grandeur phenomenal. This was my paranormal movie and I was the main starring, the magic had once again found me and made me something more than life. Few days later, photos came out of the service, and in one of them there was a bizarre hand that shone with brim light, not very much human, almost like a photoshoot error, but unexplainable as to who it was or how it got into the photo view. This was becoming more of an X-files or ghost story or better yet a touch of the supernatural phenomenal, and I was placed exactly on the center of it all. That day entrenched the philosophy of the reality of the supernatural as an existing phenomenal, which can never be ruled out of my empirical knowledge. I was a custodian witness of such magnanimous events during the days of my early childhood, which made me an enigma among those I grew among, and an envy of family members, who did not think God or the beyond will be interested into such a nobody like myself.

My special self was formed slowly out of these events, and gave me the confidence to confront the world with a purpose and an eternal intention, and no longer an existential orphan. Which change my obscure, ugly, slim bodily structured boy I was, and placed the promise of a better tomorrow and a future rising star. The concept of who I was, changed, there was a celestial plan on me being here after all, the 'mystery man' was becoming me every moment, and that mystery was part of my DNA. I also learnt that, with each revelation of that mystery, it did not come cheap-but at a price, with counter attacks on me. With every terrestrial visit in my regards, equated an attack or what felt like a black hole phenomenal sucking me to it. I had committed myself greatly in the study of the bible, I would literally cross night reading it from Genesis to Revelations, weekend after the other. I had a small New Testament bible I had with to school that I read often during breaks which was in English, and assisted me greatly in enhancing my vocabulary and into the command of the language, and I hid it in school blazer pocket, together with my Oxford mini dictionary. I would share with other learners my faith, with drunkards outside and prostitutes I met on the road on their business. I only prepared myself for nothing else, except for my glorious future of being a world preacher with divine powers. Initially I wanted to be a magician, but this calling business was greater than just having few tricks-and to which was waiting for me in the distant future. Little however did I know nor fully comprehend that, with every unfolding mystery, revelation, enlightment, was accompanied by a greatest darkness, possibly equating the density of its opposite. It was clear to me that both phenomenal were in partnership, and that the universe as it is, worked with duality. If there was life, then death followed as its shadow, success followed failure, winter-summer and vice versa, and there was no dodging of that universal law or mathematical equation. My grade 7 teacher in Charles Morgan used to say ''you can dodge and dodge, but you can never dodge the consequences of dodging''. This is shown on many passages of the bible, from Job who was blessed as a righteous man, who the Devil appeared before the sons of God to request for permission to invade with disaster and whom God granted his permission to, without however tempering with his soul. It always puzzled me as to how a retrenched cherub finds access to heaven, which is the same place he been ousted from, walking freely and carelessly, so much so that when the angels gave their reports before the creator on their assignments on the earth, he too was questioned on his whereabouts, even though he was not mandatory nor was it his jurisdiction. He is nonetheless commanded to give an answer, but ignorantly responds, without giving clear answers but generalizes his response. Firstly, my debate had been, as to why would the all-knowing God ask an obvious question to him, why was he oblivious to the information he already had first-hand knowledge of. To make matters worse, he asks if Lucifer had invaded his faithful clientele Job. Why would God reveal information of such delicate matter to a foe, and even offers his client to be a testing ground for Lucifer's tactics-just to prove the clients loyalties. To me this either showed God's flaws as a celestial being, or emanated his own ego and over confidence about supra-mundane matters. Which brought the passage of Isaiah which say ''I create both light and darkness, blessing and disaster, it is I the Lord who does all these things'', and the passage Christ says ''Satan has come to talk to me about you, but I pray that your faith does not fail you.''

We also see Jacob, a trickster, wrestling with an angel the whole night, when day break came, the angel commanded him to release him before sunrise, but Jacob refused to do so without a blessing. The angel then asked his name, he responds, and the angel says his name will no longer be his name, but will now be changed to Israel- implying he who wrestles with God. He blessed him and then dislocated his hip. Jacob came out of wrestling the whole night leaping, hurt and in pain, but with a blessing and a new name. Seemingly through the story-the blessing was not possible without the wrestle, and most of all without the pain-no pain-no glory. These two conflicting factors seemed apparently anonymous to each other.

We see also the passage of Genesis first chapter, giving an anecdote of creation theory, with darkness preceding the light and the presence of God's spirit in that dark void, mystically present in the chaos, not as its inhabitant, but hovering in preparation for the eternal intentional instructions of creativity as God said "Let the be light", and as though there was no darkness, light appeared, for darkness seemed to be only the absence of the light, and my debate was always that, was it really absent and not the other side of the coin? If my doubts have no depth in them, then why was the spirit comfortable in the dark-enough to hover over the deep?

Again we see the Jewish God, delivering the Jews from Egypt, using Moses, who was the son of Pharaoh by adoption, and a custodian of the oppressor's culture. We see God delivering his people, only to kill them in the desert and sent them snakes to torment them, healed them again by the same snake, whilst seeking to assassinate Moses for becoming angry during his mission, when he struck the rock that he was told to point for water to come out for the nagging multitude, and his wife Zipporah cut the foreskin of their son and threw it on Moses feet to atone for him.

We also see Abraham promised a son, and after decade the promised made, he receives Isaac, who has to be his heir and a father of the Jewish nation, but God asks Abraham to sacrifice the same son to him to test his loyalty in the God of the promise than the promise itself. This to me showed that God was ready to break the promise at the expense of loyalty towards him, to validate in my suspicion, his dire need of being looked up too for who he is and not what he can do for one.

The complexity and mystery behind the knowledge of the Jewish God was puzzling and deep for my comprehension, but as well fascinating.

We also see Paul, who was to write half of the New Testament and a pioneer of the church, and the rise of the Christendom movement. Paul was an enemy to the spread of Christianity in its early days and an assassin, tormentor and oppressor of believers. He encounters God on his road to Damascus, and the experience left him blind. We see him given a thorn in the flesh when he receives revelation of God's mysteries to write on his epistles, with an intention of downsizing his ego.

We see Barnabas who was a renowned criminal on the trial with Christ, and when Pilate asked who should be released between him and Christ, the Jews preferred Barnabas the criminal to be released and the saint-Christ to be crucified. We see Christ forsaken by his father on the cross on the last hour of his death, inspite of all the magic he possessed- he could not save himself, and thus died broken and badly beaten.

We see John, author of the book of Revelations who had been made blind by his persecutors on the Mount Patmos, and there he received his visions of the book of possible future events.

We see Daniel thrown in the den of lions before his ascension to power as governor of Persia, prior before that he was thrown in the fire along with his entrouge.

We see Joseph, stripped his coat of many colors by his brothers who were envious of him, sold like a slave to strangers, accused of rape by his Lord's wife-who wanted to seduce him to a love mat and he refused, sent to prison for that and remained there for a long time before his ascension to power as King of Egypt. We see many righteous man and woman, throughout the bible history, persecuted, killed, sold as slaves, moving from place to place as wanderers, and not receiving the promise, but never losing faith nonetheless.

I love these stories, they had a spiritual antidote to them and mystery which needed siphoning and pondering on. My life and my mystery had connected me with them, whether they were scientifically proven of historical facts or not, but their message echo throughout the ageless stones, and very much connoted with the uniqueness of the ''mystery man''.