The African Spring - Literal Human History, #2

THE OLDEST STORY

There is a story, older than any other story.

Older than the first Egyptian hieroglyph, carved. Older than the first Mesopotamian tablet pressed into clay. Older than the first Greek philosopher opening his mouth to speak. Before any tradition the current world calls ancient was anything but young.

This story, was told around fires in a green world, the current world has forgotten ever existed.

It was told, by people who understood in their bones, that they were different and so they called themselves, the people, the humans. The original. The root, from which every branch of the human family, grew.

They were right.

Every human alive today every person, on every continent, speaking every language, practicing every religion, living in every climate is descended, seeded from the human homeland.

Not metaphorically.

Not in some vague, spiritual sense.

Genetically, Directly.

The lineage is unbroken, and the science is unambiguous.

Africa is the human homeland.

The people who never left, are the oldest continuous culture on Earth. And the people who did leave, that traveled north, east, and eventually to every inhabitable corner of the globe, carried with them, the codes, the knowledge, the moral architecture, and the genetic material that made everything that followed possible.

This, is their story.

Not the story, the current world tells us about our African homeland. Not the stories told to justify the crimes and pillage. Not the story of poverty, chaos, and dehumanizing illiteracy, that colonialism invented of a continent waiting to be civilized.

The true story that evidence tells us, as does common sense, was always there waiting to be recognized, with rational eyes.

It is the story of everyone's ancestors and cousins, of the people who built the first cities, developed the first writing, established the first universities, produced the first moral codes, and mapped the first stars.

It is a story of numerous tearful separations in families, and a few who returned having forgotten who they were, and not to greet, or even trade, but to take, including life itself, with tools invented by others, abused as weapons. 

Your family, are a people who survived the Arab slave trade, then the Atlantic slave trade, the two largest forced migrations in human history, and came out the other side still holding onto the human codes – and their humanity.

Still creating beauty. Still forgiving. Still extending to the world, the kind of generosity that only makes sense if you understand, that every person you meet, is, at some level of the timeline, your family.

It is the hidden story of inventors, and scientists, whose contributions built the modern world while their names were buried. Of musicians, who translated the rhythm of the human heart, into the sound of the twentieth century, while giving voice, to the human soul.

The story of a people, who, after everything the blizzards threw at them are still here. Still whole. Still themselves. Beginning finally, to be truly seen, as the first family, they always were.

Yet, before we enter this reality, I have one question. And I want you to carry that question with you, through every chapter that follows, because everything in this book, is really just one long answer to that question.

Who, are the True Africans?