The Messenger of the Dead
Hey! Everybody…it is me, the child of the savannah. I come from the Kemetic lands. In our place, when birds fly, they don’t make us dream; our imagination is fertile enough to complete all the momentums of our body… birds that fly do not make us dream. Another thing: we know and we swear that the sky is a big roof that is held by four pillars – one in the South, in the North, East and West. Do not laugh. What I'm saying is true. The four children of the God Heru know that we owe them for the fact that the sky is not falling on our heads. Mesthi keeps the pole on the South; Kebsenuf the pole on the North, Duamautef the pole on the West and Hapi the pole in the East. If you doubt what I’m saying, it is simply because you have arbitrarily decided the contrary. Your brain is so small…you think what you do not see does not exist. What would you say if a blind person says flowers are not pretty, and there are no birds in the sky??? Ha, ha, ha!
I am the child of the Dogon savannah, and I’m coming to ask you to follow me towards the realities that will make a human being the product of the universal intelligence. It is so true that the heart sees a lot further than the eyes. Listen or read this story with your heart. This story is absolutely true. Must I beg you not to reject what I’m going to say? I’ve said already many times that the human brain only has a partial approach, born of the elements that are presented to it by its senses. Allow me to add a new element to your machine with the hope that this will widen the world that we are perceiving and the possibilities we are willing to accept. Yes! I’m talking and I’m saying that we have succeeded in turning ourselves into a species that is lost in time and space by believing that it is possible to build a world using arbitrary decisions in our methods of investigation inside the same territories. We will only see what we want to see! The truth here is, if our ancestors said the sky is a roof, we cannot reject that idea before we discover the limits of the sky!
The story I’m going to tell? …hmmmm. Let’s enter that world.
Ipout is a very special person. He lives in an oasis in the heart of the Sahara Desert. Ipout is not like anyone else. He possesses a very special talent. He can engage into a dialogue with the dead. We can see that, at first, the art of dialogue with the dead does not have a lot of social value, but it is not knowing this man that I am talking about. I’m talking about Ipout! A man that is very intelligent and with a very special talent.
Ipout is born, without a doubt, like we all are: from a mother that is very devoted to her family and a father that is well-advanced in the domain of spiritual education. Ipout has grown like we all have. He went to the initiation camp and a few years later he developed a passion with no equal in the art of reading the Earth Energies and the effect they have on people. In all his life, there was one thing Ipout hated: surprises. Yes, he did not like not knowing the future. Ipout knew everything, or let’s say, he knew everything he wanted to know. By his adult age, his reputation was with no limit. Kings, merchants, priests…all came to him, trying to know about their future. Never was Ipout wrong in his predictions.
But attention! I’m talking about Ipout in the world of the humans. We know that our main frustration towards existence is the fact that we all end up dying, and for Ipout, it will be good to know how much time is left for people on Earth. This will give us a chance to be prepared. The question everybody was asking Ipout was: “How much time do I have left on Earth?” Ipout never was wrong in his announcements. The inhabitants of the oasis then developed the habit of inviting Ipout at every burial, and after he was asked to tell who will be the next person to die. Ipout became a very important personality in the oasis. As personalities do, he asked the community to play music while he was asking the dead about the name of the person that will follow them into the world of the dead.
Oh, yes! All what I’m saying is true, and I’m swearing in the name of my grandfather. Every time somebody dies, after the body is placed in the tomb, Ipout always follows it; and it was a long moment of suspense and worries. When he comes back out of the tomb, one could read on the faces of the community a mixture of fear, anticipation and even depression. Everybody was waiting to know who will be the next person to die. Ipout always takes his time, and with a hand sign he always ordered the musicians to start playing. One plays his favorite rhythms and he always dances until he gets completely wet with sweat. When he is tired, he stops, and while the crowd is waiting anxiously, he then lifts his one arm and points in the direction of a compound and says, “The next dead will come from this house.” This phrase is always followed with a big noise. The rest of the community rejoices, relieved, and even celebrates while the compound Ipout has mentioned drowns in sadness. In this house, one then starts preparing for funerals.
Ipout has become the messenger of the dead. Was he feared or respected? I don’t know what to say. The idea that he always celebrates while others are wondering if they will be the next to die is very difficult to accept. But, as the priest of the temple of Aishat said, everybody will have their turn in the barber’s chair.
One day, as usual, after the body was placed in the tomb, Ipout entered the tomb while the musicians were waiting anxiously. Ipout asked his usual question to the dead; but the dead responded, “Next time it will be your turn to join the kingdom of the dead.” Ipout received that answer like a slap in the face. Apparently, the idea that one day it will be his own turn to die was never a possibility he had imagined. He reacted: “No! I’m asking who of the people in the village will die after you?” The dead repeated that it was him. Ipout found himself powerless and could not find enough strength to come out of the tomb. The community outside started worrying. Ipout took three times longer than usual to come out of the tomb. When he finally emerged, one could see his face that was completely decomposed. The sadness on his face had no equal. This fact worried the chief of the community. All sorts of questions ran across the minds and hearts of people. Will it be an epidemic? A famine? The musicians, who with the time, took the habit of playing for Ipout despite the anguish, were still waiting for his signal. Ipout bowed his head and walked sadly towards his house. The whole community followed him, asking “What did the dead say that is so grave and so serious for the oasis?” When Ipout finally decided to talk, he placed a clumsily stoic smile on the corner of his lips: “This dead was an idiot…he went to the point of saying that I will be the next one to visit the kingdom of the dead!” To this news, the chief of the community could not stop himself from exploding into a big laugh…
What I just told you is true. Ipout, who worked to avoid surprises realized that the most important thing in life is to reserve one room in our house, or even one bed, in the case that Mr. Surprise decides to spend a night under our roof. Believe me.