Reality Factory

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 10 000 years since have past the day this world was born. Twice since it has been engulfed in flame. But now lays violently torn.

The first fire, the flame of life. Numkulunkulu, our beginning hath first created. Two halves of land and sea, his thirst to build as yet insatiated, two peoples there were still to be. 

North and South, Kei-ya and Kosi with topology and climate never seen before so incongruous.

Two brother tribes, by divine intention heeded each land their own.

The people of Kei-ya; ineffectual, barren and parched. Hunted by fiend they are forced to employ new doctrine. They build sanctuary of sand and stone, death to he who dare go out alone. A government adopted and society innate, the people of Kei-ya grow and learn at a neoteric rate.

Inversely the people of Kosi; prosperity, opulence and resource abundant. Their fortune albeit led to their stagnation, their basic if fruitful still and unproggresive nation, lays a silent beautiful utopia beyond imagination.

Much darker times were still to come as Numkulunkulu our God doth sleep…

The abemlungu. The race of the sky, did come not 2000 years fore today. Ignoring the Kosi, they visit the Kei-ya, and give them knowledge previously occult. They forge weapons of steel for the purpose to kill each other and their aggressors. They no longer need deal with those who wrong and steel, for new government is provided while the people have subsided and submitted them selves to umlungu.

Kei-ya now begin to thrive, life goes beyond the need to survive and with the advent of intermission came the subtle proposition by umlungu to enjoy a little recreation.

But as they soon learnt relief must be earnt, in the factory of abemlungu. Each day for an hour they press the button on the time, their reward to become a gluttonous swine, fed rare foods and exotic wine.

As the years drift lazily by, the pride of the Kei-ya dwindles and dies. Each year more hours needed in the factory to support their pathetic lives, more and more hours required, they work soon till they are degraded and tired. Their minds ebb, their souls wane and their desires fade.

Their love for the factory soon so encompassing it turns to dependence and they have little other preference than simply to waste in there away.

Soon though as the people of Kei-ya die umlungu doth realise they need fresh slaves for the endless rows of buttons that must be pressed, the primitives of Kosi they consider in jest.

Perhaps if trained from a very early age…

So babas they need and babas they’ll take, each newborn will be made a button slave…

So came the abemlungu to kill, pillage and reap the babas of the Kosi mamas who soundly sleep.

A great battle did ensue when many Kosi men, few umlungu slew. Their spears and shields of skin could never compete with the blinding searing heat of the abemlungu death sticks. All but the elders, mamas and babas were murdered. 

These crying infants were soon taken; there faces needed removing their souls needed breaking.

Now when all seems lost as the abemlungu have been coming for many generation, the prophecy of Shaka our salvation ounce again rears its crest, one Kosi man, raised in the button factories will awaken, remember his past and what the umlungu have for him forsaken, and this man, Shaka will be free, this man will come home to Kosi.

He will alone with a holy spear, travel the barren desert to the sacred baobab, he will kill a Malkin and so become a man, the baobab spirit will grant this prophet the strength to grow in wisdom and knowledge enough to lead the Kosi out of fear and slavery to freedom…