The Prophet

They named him, the Profit, a man of God, a man who loved his people, the Boers. He was a poor farmer, who lived as any farmer lived in the late 1800s and early 1900s. He made his shoes from tanned hide, as many farmers did, and everything else he owned he made with his two hands. His father was a farmer and his brothers became farmers. It was all they knew and all they wanted to do. He had little schooling as most poor farmers did and learned enough to read the only book he ever clutched to his chest, the Bible.

He was reserved, spoke only when it was necessary and kept quiet most of the time. From the time he was a child to when he became a man, he carried the burden of seeing his people suffer. His deep, blue eyes told the story of what he saw in his dreams about the future. The future was unsettling as it had been in the past and it wasn’t going to get better. He carried a deep love for his family and his people, a love that most have lost through the years.

Only his mother saw the unhappiness in his eyes, while others recoiled in uneasiness. Many would say those blue eyes had seen things that no man could ever bear to be witness of. They held a truth, a calmness, that many found it disquieting. He would look deep and hard, into anyone’s eyes and they could see a galaxy of something curious and yet somber.

By the time he turned twenty his hair began to turn grey, as the future of his people weighed him. He was endeared with the nickname Uncle by the other farmers, a nickname given only to older farmers. The Profit had many visions, even in his younger years he had prophecies that sometimes he could not explain.

One night, when he was seven years old, a faithful servant came knocking on the door warning his mother of gangs approaching the farm. This troubled the mother as her husband had left the family farm to sell his goods in the nearby towns, thus leaving behind his wife and four children by themselves. They lived in uncertain times, and the only people around them were the animals, and the work hands that worked for the family, other neighboring farms were miles away.

The children were asleep and she quietly awoke them, telling them to get ready to leave. But the Profit, calmly assures his mother that there was no need to leave for God would protect them, and it was best to stay. She felt the urge to leave, but the Profit insisted they should stay and told his mother if she must go to go, but he would stay. For a moment, she had forgotten that God was to protect them, and blind faith was needed to believe of such power. The mother looked into her sons deep, blue eyes and realized he spoke the truth, for faith was all she had for the love of God. She bravely yield to stay and gathered the children in the living room where she laid them down to sleep while she kept the fire burning in the fireplace.

The mother grabbed her gun and stayed awake through the night, the Profit kept her company as they waited in silence. By sunrise, all is well, and for a moment they come to believe the storm had passed. All was too quiet, but mother and son barely utter a word and feel a peace around them. Surely, they were out of danger. Mother, takes a peek outside the window and to her surprise she sees the gangs of blacks, restlessly standing outside their home. They appear uneasy, as if something displeased them and then unexpectedly they turn and run away, discouraged by something or someone. The mother couldn’t quite explain herself, but she greatly understood it was the hand of God that protected them. If her faith in God was ever strong this was only reinforced further.

The Profit, even at the tender age of seven, had an unquestionable faith in God, a kinda of blind faith, that takes time to nurture, and can only be felt by those that don’t need to see to believe. The Profit, indeed have a gift, as we all do, but unlike many of us, he accepted them, no matter how unhappy it was to see the future of his family and people. Of course, the love he had for his people are now forbidden. Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.

The Profit did exist, he had a name, he had a family and he was born in Rietkuil in 1864.

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