The Wilderness of the Mind of Man Part 2

In many African traditions, history is passed on through an oral tradition: storytelling. Stories, poetry and songs tell of the feats of history, or convey the values of the people. West African storytellers go by many names: griots, jali, jeli, guewel, gawlo, gnawi, igawen… according to their language, tribe and tradition. These historians and storytellers inherit their role within a family and must learn a wealth of traditional songs without error, becoming walking libraries of history for their people. They also make songs about current events and gossip and even provide some comic relief.

I’m no griot, clearly, but maybe I can still pass on some African history using my version of the oral tradition. Here I’ll continue to read from The Wilderness of the Mind of Man, a deeply philosophical text from Ancient Africa. Last time the story ended in a barren land where our Brothers were building structures and making roads that led to nothing but confusion. Let’s continue the story…

Transcript:

I saw men with Charts and tools in their hands moving about in anxious circles, searching and digging the earth; and I questioned them, and they answered: “We search for the Lost Land of Knowledge”; and those who delved in the earth replied: “We dig for the Well of Truth.”

It seemed, perhaps, that those Brothers were seeking the same thing I sought, and I made myself one of their group to aid them in their task. Yet after many days, I saw that our work was vain: it made nothing but deep worn tracks and pits into which men strayed and stumbled, and from which they escaped with pain and labor, and many did not escape at all.

I quit this profitless toil, and said, I will seek a guide, a Man of Wisdom: there must be such: that will point the way to the Lost Land. Then I saw a House of dark Red stone, and a Man arrayed in a Crimson Robe who stood guard at its door. The Man held a staff of that sacred wood which my Lost Brothers call Authority; and raised it high as I spoke to him and told him of my need. He smiled, and said: “Have hope, my son! Behold you have found your guide, for I hold the pass to the Lost Land of Knowledge, and I guard the Well of Truth.”

He placed a Crimson Veil on my head, and led me into the house, and down a Steep stairway deep into the bowels of the earth: and we came into a vast cavern where shadows clustered thickly, and the ground underfoot was a disgusting tangle overgrown with pale lichens and evil weeds. “This is the Land of Knowledge,” said my guide, “and there lies the Well of Truth.”

I waded through the dark tangle, and drank of the Pool that I found in its midst; but the water was foul with mud and slime, and my thirst was not assuaged.

Then the VOICE of my unseen Father spoke clearly in my ear: “Seek with Strong Heart, and seize with Strong Hand my son,” it said: and I rose up and went forth from the House of Red, and set my face towards the Desert.

Hunger, and thirst, and wariness assailed me as I quested; and I looked for a strong and kindly hand to aid me on my way; and I came to a House of rich Purple Stone and craved help of the Man that guarded its door. The Man was clad in a Purple Robe and held on high a tall staff of Authority. “You are wise to have sought my aid,” he replied, “for I am the Guardian of Truth and Knowledge.”

He wrapped me round with a purple veil, and led me to the door of a dark vault: then pointed forward with his staff and commanded my movements, saying: “Take seven steps forward, then backward take three. Take seven steps to your right hand and bow at each step you take. The Gates of Knowledge are low, very low, so bow deeply, very deeply. Retrace your steps again, and do as you did before, then take four steps backward, and kneel on the floor.”

I did as he commanded, then rose and gazed around; and I saw, though dimly through my Veil, a vast space surrounded by trees. The ground was bright with gorgeous flowers, and a sparkling fountain played before me. I rushed to the fountain, and drank a great draught of its waters; then knew that the draught was not water, but warm spice-charged wine. I cast the veil from my head, and looked about me again; I saw that the lawn and the flowers and the trees were nothing but painted pictures.

Then I remembered my Father’s commands and the Garden and the Pool and the trees and the fruit; and I went out from the House of Purple and faced the Desert alone.