Moving to Africa at thirteen was a great adventure and despite three high schools in the same year I knew this was a special place; something lingered in my soul, emitting little radar signals barely sensed, hardly known, but there.
Later, as a young army officer in the King’s African Rifles I was in charge of a platoon of thirty men, all locally recruited from Nyasaland ( now Malawi ), who spoke little or no English. It was my job to learn Chinyanja. The more I learned, the more I got to know these wonderful, highly humorous, hard working soldiers, and developed a love that has never diminished throughout my life and causes me to return from America frequently; a calling, tapping into my primordial being, knowing that I and everyone else emanated from there, long, long ago.
I think of my dear friend Overton who worked with me forty-two years ago in the jungles of Johannesburg, and now lives retired, back in his village near Mzimba, Malawi. He lives in a mud hut with no running water, electricity, gas or garbage disposal, happy with his cows. I live in the center of technology, trains, planes, automobiles, internet and drones, constantly changing technology…, racing toward what?
I think of some of the powerful insights I have had over the years, especially when I seemed beaten down, at the end of my tether, when my ego gave up and I felt I could go on no more. The powerful voice of my sacred self came through, bringing instant clarity, even if I didn’t know how.
I have often lurched from insight to insight. Once, when I consulted a psychic, was told of two things that would come to pass, and they did. Not insignificant, trivial things, but major, life-changing things that caused me to move countries.
As I enter a more reclusive era of my life I ponder, is this all foretold?
Am I truly the captain of my soul?