Therianthropic figures, San cave art.
For the rest of the evening, we both gave the Red Beard a wide berth.
Although the terror of it all still stalked the outposts of my senses, the experience had sobered me to a point of heightened awareness and a sharp sensitivity to the environment around me. The night seemed deeper now, the darkness nesting in restless swarms in the fields and valleys. The air needled my skin and crackled in my hair.
I scraped together a fire for comfort and warmth, and AK’s words drifted over the coals, fanning the hypnotic glow at its core with his natural story-telling faculty.
“When I was a boy, I remember my Grandfather telling me about a healer who came to our village from the hills to the north. All the elders in the village spoke about him as a great Diviner whose name was known to the Ancestors.
“He said he was following an ancient spirit-path between Sacred Places guarded by the Dreamstones. I was young and understood little of what was being said, but I knew something powerful and profound must have taken place, because Sangomas from other villages all came to meet the Great Diviner. They held a special ritual up here and many visions emerged, many stories were told and much wisdom shared.”
AK jostled the coals with a heavy boot and threw a few more branches on the fire. After my experience earlier, I had suggested to him that we take the rig down to the village and sleep there. He calmed me, saying nothing sinister had happened, but that we should not leave the spot until the Intwaso (spiritual emergence) energy had settled back into its veiled realm.
“Nothing sinister?” I pointed at the Snakestone standing at the shadowed cave entrance. “I just told you what I saw. Everything about it was sinister.”
“Yes,” said AK. “Dreamstate trances like the one you just had are vivid, some would say real. Which is why they are recorded in rock art by Shamans everywhere.”
“Yes I know,” I said, feeling a little frustrated. “I’ve been studying the phenomenon for years. I’ve seen a lot of mysterious rock art images and have researched what they might mean; but this is fucking insane!""
I paused to calm myself, as I was beginning to feel overwhelmed again by the terrifying experience. “OK. I know that you know what I have been writing about; caves around the world and the beast figures emerging from cracks in the walls; for over 30 000 years. You know this is my passion. And you know, as you've always known, I have always wondered what triggered these images, but I never imagined they were documented experiences of actual real fucking physical contact!”
“Well,” continued AK. “I have seen the Sangomas from this area go into trance during Ubulawu rituals. Sometimes the physical effects are violent and can be suffered for days. Whether it’s real or hallucination, our culture is rooted in the teachings delivered by the Ancestors during these rituals.”
“But this was no ritual,” I said. “We smoked some strong weed but that was it. Why me and not you?”
“I have no idea,” said AK. “Or maybe, just one. It’s going to sound odd to your Western archeological mind though.”
"OK. Sorry my friend. I interrupted your story. I'm a bit freaked out. We'll get back to that."
AK continued to narrate the story his Grandfather had shared with him as a child.
“This Great Diviner told the story of Mdali, the creator of humanity, emerging from a cave in the east called Daliwe. He believed, as many Xhosa people have done for generations, that all humans and animals also emerged from this cave. The Diviner was on a quest to find this cave, and other sacred places he said are linked to it by spirit paths and marked by Dreamstones like the Snakestone.
“Is this the cave he was searching for?” I asked.
“No,” said AK. “But he believed that this place is tied to a powerful network of sacred sites, caves and Dreamstones, tuned together to the frequencies of the Spirit World.”
“Wow,” I said. “And I thought it was just the weed. But seriously?”
“Look,” said AK. “Whatever you believe, all I can tell you is that places like this have a pull, a powerful energy the Sangomas have used for centuries. They believe that the Spirit World exists behind the walls of these sacred caves, and with the help of a psychotropic brew called Ubulawu, they commune with the ancestors who sometimes take the form of humans, animals or a mixture of both. Something like you saw.”
“But I’m no Sangoma. I haven’t taken anything stronger than weed.” I was beginning to feel exhaustion tugging at my thinking. “You said you have maybe one idea why me,” I whispered quietly, pulling a blanket around my shoulders.
“Yes I do,” said AK. "But you'll have to have an open mind."
I laughed then. "My mind just got ripped a new one. It's never been more open."
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