TLADI

Chapter 16

Once there was an old man who had been in the village from the time it began. He had been extremely tall and had never revealed any part of his skin. He was the one who knew the most secret truth. His truth was the kind of thing that struck your mind, pierced into your soul and came back with a reply- 

"This is the true truth!" The old man had explained why the most secret truth was so easily recognisable as the truth. He had always said; 

"There was a kind of magic in the soul because somehow it always knew what truth was." 

Back when mankind was still in tune with him/herself, the truth could never be hidden from him or her. Something that has diminished to what we today call 'gut feeling' was greater evidence of truth than sight itself. This power to discern truth is not gone; it is merely hiding within us because most of the time we want to disbelieve it. Most of the time, we cannot handle the truth. Yet this truth forced you to believe it because unlike any other 'truths' it answered all the questions and as unbelievable as it first appeared to be, it struck a deep chord within your soul that echoed back with the sound:

"This is the true truth!"

The tall old man had an assistant, a small dark man who could not speak. The tall old man towered like a great baobab tree over the small dark man. These two unlikely companions had spent hours at a time in the tall old man's hut for many years. The tall old man would dictate and the small dark man would write everything down word for word. It took their entire lives to write The Most Secret Truth down by burning it into ox-leather. 

Yet when they were finished, the greater part of the work began. The writings had to be translated into every language known to man. That would be a lifetime dedication and generation after generation of villagers would fulfill it until it was completed.

The tall old man died after he had told the villages of this. It was in The Drummers' Circle on a dark, cloudy moonless night. The tall old man had dropped dead in The Drummers' Circle immediately after delivering his message. It was as though life would not release him and death could not claim him until he had completed his task. It is said that the day he died, they saw his face for the first time. It was said to be strangely albino-white... much like Tladi and her mother's.

The translating of the tall old man's texts had been completed the day before the lightning struck and blackened the last of the blood red soil in The Drummers' Circle. Coincidence? No one believed that; the soul said you would have to lie to yourself to believe that. On that very night, when the thunder vibrations were still echoing across the lands, the villagers all packed their things and left. 

Each race carried texts in its own tongue and went forth to reunite with its people. It was truly heartbreaking. This village had grown into more than just a village. It had become a family and it was hard to say goodbye. It was hard to tell whether it was the rain, or tears that were the cause of the wet faces, shining eyes, and bleeding hearts. Yet they knew that this was their destiny. 

Their purpose was to travel beyond the sunset of the village and spread The Most Secret Truth. This was the purpose of the village, the reason for its existence.

By morning, the village was as deserted as a graveyard.