I am currently writing a novella called "The AFROFuturist Bible". In the next few blog posts, I will be offering to my readers, a fictional exploration of religion, myths and AFROFuturism. Enjoy. Comments, criticisms, and questions are welcome. -- Stafford L Battle
Credits: Music by Otis McDonald (YouTube Audio Library); Art from Pixabay
Introduction:
Two grime-encrusted intruders wearing patchwork military gear approached my private picnic on the beach. Online Social Media had promised me a pristine parcel of manicured green grass on the sultry west coast of Africa where persistent ocean waves smashed rhythmically against jagged rocks.
I had surrendered polished, antique Roman gold coins to ensure exquisite cuisine, anonymity and sharp salty breezes for romantic tranquility to charm an enchanting female by displaying my wit, wealth and masculine prowess. The distant strangers hoisted rusty, Asian-manufactured, semi-automatic weapons. Prey masquerading as predator; a desperate tactic in hostile times.
This was a distressing distraction.
It brought to mind, the first prophecy in my AFROFuturist Bible: “Mami Wata rules us all. The strong will always succeed until the weak get smarter.” I had written it, I own it, and it haunts me in my dreams and when I awoke in tangled sheets of cotton. When you swear an oath to celestial beings, there is very little wiggle space, limited possibilities to dishonor your commitment without suffering dire consequences.
I expected ruinous retribution for any transgressions against Mami Wata, the Eternal African Matriarch and founder of all human religions and mythologies on this world. I wondered if this was just another test of my resolve — what or who was I willing to sacrifice?
Credits: Music by Otis McDonald (YouTube Audio Library); Art from Pixabay
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Part One
Introduction:
Two grime-encrusted intruders wearing patchwork military gear approached my private picnic on the beach. Online Social Media had promised me a pristine parcel of manicured green grass on the sultry west coast of Africa where persistent ocean waves smashed rhythmically against jagged rocks.
I had surrendered polished, antique Roman gold coins to ensure exquisite cuisine, anonymity and sharp salty breezes for romantic tranquility to charm an enchanting female by displaying my wit, wealth and masculine prowess. The distant strangers hoisted rusty, Asian-manufactured, semi-automatic weapons. Prey masquerading as predator; a desperate tactic in hostile times.
This was a distressing distraction.
It brought to mind, the first prophecy in my AFROFuturist Bible: “Mami Wata rules us all. The strong will always succeed until the weak get smarter.” I had written it, I own it, and it haunts me in my dreams and when I awoke in tangled sheets of cotton. When you swear an oath to celestial beings, there is very little wiggle space, limited possibilities to dishonor your commitment without suffering dire consequences.
I expected ruinous retribution for any transgressions against Mami Wata, the Eternal African Matriarch and founder of all human religions and mythologies on this world. I wondered if this was just another test of my resolve — what or who was I willing to sacrifice?
****** Just a taste of my story . . . more to come*****
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