LITMIR.BIZ

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River Time was very cross with what the spark had done

      And quickly sent the Spirit Cold to fight the spark outright.

      A mighty battle soon ensued, in which the spark,

      Now a universal roaring Flame

      Which filled the sky with many soaring tongues,

      Tried to melt Cold’s Spirit, and devour it complete,

      While Cold its icy Spirit blew,

      Its cold wet breath into the Flame;

      But it only turned a portion of the Flame

      Into cold white ash.

      And this ferocious battle, which started so long ago,

      Today still rages unabating, and shall yet proceed

      Till Time shall cease to flow.

      And the Wise Men of the tribes relate

      That if the Flame one day shall win,

      All that exist shall perish

      In one consuming Fire,

      While if victory goes to the Spirit of Cold

      All living things shall freeze to death!

      May the Great Spirit who is Lord Almighty

      And Paramount Chief of all

      Grant that neither Flame nor Cold

      Shall ever win the War,

      Because whosoever beats the other—

      The sun, the moon, the earth and stars

      And all that live shall cease to be!

      May both antagonists fight forth for everlasting Time,

      Because on their unceasing conflict

      All Life depends.

      From the still warm ashes – wounds in Flame’s existence,

      Inflicted in Battle by the Spirit of Cold,

      There arose the Great Mother Ma,

      The very first Goddess of human shape.

      The All-knowing Omniscient Most-merciful Goddess Ma

      Had created herself by the Great Spirit’s wish

      Who, displeased with the wasteful and senseless War

      Between the Flame and the Cold

      Had come from far beyond

      The Ten Gates of Eternity

      To bring order to the Universe.

      Now Ma the Great Mother began to execute

      Commands of uNkulunkulu, the Great Spirit:—

      From the sparks that Flame shot out

      She created the stars, the sun,

      And the body on which we stand.

      (We shall relate anon, from whence the moon)

      Although Immortal, the Great Mother was cursed

      With strange desires and feelings

      Which afterwards she passed to man and beast alike.

      These are feelings, strange to Immortals,

      Like anger, hunger, jealousy and misery

      Or love and lust and craving for luscious food.

      With such desires the Great Mother Ma was cursed

      And they were like diseases within her being;

      And because of this the Storytellers,

      The Wise Men of the Tribes,

      Depict her as the Imperfect Undying One.

      That is why woodcarvers

      Throughout this continent

      Always make their carvings of her

      Imperfect.

      Either a leg is shown deformed

      Or one breast much bigger than the other;

      Hands of unequal size.

      It is from the Great Mother Ma

      That we mortal souls and our brothers the beasts

      Inherited all our faults—

      Imperfect seed bring forth imperfect plants.

      When the Great Mother Ma had finished creating the stars,

      The sun and the earth,

      She seated herself on the Mountain of Iron, Taba-Zimbi,

      To rest and await the Great Spirit’s further instructions.

      It was while she thus was sitting

      That a strange feeling came over her—

      A feeling she could not interpret

      But loneliness now we know it had been,

      And she wept most bitterly.

      So long and so loud did the Goddess cry

      That the very stars trembled and fell from the sky

      While the tears that the Goddess shed

      Flowed in a great lake at her feet—

      Flowed across the land in all directions

      Forming murmuring streams and the mighty rivers we see today.

      At last the Great Spirit commanded the Goddess

      To end her queer emotional display

      And to repair the damage done to earth

      By falling stars and floods of tears,

      And then continue with creating

      A perfect Universe from Chaos.

      ‘No!’ cried Ma through her flood of tears

      Far greater than that of Musi-Wa-Tunya

      The falls that tumble in the river Zambesi—

      ‘No! Never! I shall not move from where I am

      Until I have a companion to work with!

      Is it not clear that I’m utterly lonely?

      Who can I talk to in my lonely hours?

      These barren plains – these silent craggy mountains?

      Those stupid stars that twinkle foolishly at me?

      Aieeee! Where, oh where is the sense in ord’ring me to create

      These useless things anyway?

      Those stars, the sun, and this miserable bowl called earth?

      Who am I,

      And how long will I work here, creating all this?

      This utterly senseless rubbish!’

      From far beyond Eternity’s borders

      Where no God, or Goddess, or Demon can e’er go,

      Came the Great Spirit’s cold and hollow, and unemotional voice:

      It howled like a tempest through the star-spangled skies

      Like thunder upon the plains—

      Re-echoing through the valleys and gorges

      And shaking the great barren crags

      Like trees in a gale.

      Bolt after bolt of crashing lightning

      Tore across the shrieking skies;

      Howling

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