That day she travelled a difficult road. One that we rarely speak of but one that is typical of how the world views Africa. Her journey started not too early one morning. The sun was hot as it beat on the red soil so rich in zinc that you could smell it in the early morning and late at night. When it rained, the pungent putridness of the land broke down walls and permeated windows to linger and reside wherever there was a vacuum.
As she set off on this journey by road, she knew that it was going to be a long one. The further she went, the hotter it got. Her companions were women, beautiful, African, rich in heritage and heavy with experience. If these were the days of old, they would have been singing as they went along, babies strapped to their backs and loads balanced on their heads.
The cars ate up the tarred miles like hungry beasts as they raced to beat the golden sun, seemingly lazily floating across the horizon ahead of them. These mechanical beasts of burden were built for speed and needed very little urging to do what they were created to do. They raced along effortlessly oblivious to the sombreness inside their bellies.
Her spirit was not at peace and as the day progressed she got more restless. She prayed for peace and for a safe journey because the mission was uncompromising and the plot as twisted as any that carries destinies and has the ability to change lives. Her mission had to do with the Lord whose name is above all names. She prayed for peace but only got more restless. She reached out to two women she considered prayer warriors who travailed tirelessly over her life and her purpose. They prayed for her. And still she had no peace.
Then she fell asleep and begun to dream. Halfway between consciousness and sleep she began to see a vision.
Two horsemen rode beside them. Both on massive, majestic white steeds, both bathed in brilliant white, both with their swords drawn. She could not see their faces for the glory that shone from within them, but she knew they were with her and on a mission to preserve her no matter what. The child she carried, the message deep in her soul was too precious not to be delivered and birthed at the place of her journey’s end. They had only one mission, one instruction as it were, to deliver her safely to her destination. Their mighty beasts breathed what looked like fire as they thundered down their unseen path. Thundered because even at a gallop their power was tremendous and the atmosphere around them was electric.
Towards the evening, the road grew more desolate and soon a meagre few travellers could be seen going in either direction. It almost felt like the sun in all his majesty was swallowing up the people as they scrambled to hide in her shadows. She passed village after village of pure, sheer emptiness. Village after village that smelled of death and destruction. Village after village that mourned and cried for lives lost and destinies destroyed. The mud huts, walls riddled with gaping bullet holes and smoke rising from hollowed foundations, together with their surrounding environs were mournfully deserted. There was not a soul to be seen for miles on end … And still her majestic companions rode with her. Her mind was settled knowing that the angelic hosts were with her but more so knowing who had sent them. They increased in number as she increased in the journey. From two to countless. She was at peace. She was in the Master’s hands.
Where there had been hopelessness they gave hope. Where there had been desolation and destruction they carried the message of hope for new beginnings. Hope that as the sun went down across the stark north African desert, tomorrow would come with a newness of life.
Today she sits and tells her story giving hope to others. She went, she saw, she spoke, she told the stories of those she met and those who touched her life, and she knew that forever her heart would love them and forever she would remember.
Today she tells the story of the Africa that was, knowing that only through her words and her tears will there be a different Africa for her children. For there to be change, there must be someone to carry the story to the next generation so that they will never again forget. She is that voice, the voice that tells the story. She dares to dream a dream that has no bounds. She dares to dream of an Africa Arising.
She is Beautiful – Empowered – Visionary
She is @BeautifulPetal_