In the presence of the great mystery of existence, the thoughts of
the untutored savage are not always so very unlike those of civilized
men, as we may see from the following pathetic words of a Kafir, named
Sekese, in conversation with a French traveller, M. Arbrouseille, on
the subject of the Christian religion:--
"Your tidings," said this uncultivated barbarian, "are what I want,
and I was seeking before I knew you, as you shall hear and judge for
yourself. Twelve years ago I went to feed my flocks; the weather was
hazy. I sat down upon a rock and asked myself sorrowful questions; yes,
sorrowful, because I was unable to answer them. Who has touched the
stars with his hands--on what pillars do they rest, I asked myself.
The waters never weary, they know no other law than to flow without
ceasing from morning till night and from night till morning; but where
do they stop, and who makes them flow thus? The clouds also come and
go, and burst in water over the earth. Whence come they--who sends
them? The diviners certainly do not give us rain; for how could they
do it? and why do not I see them with my own eyes when they go up to
heaven to fetch it? I cannot see the wind; but what is it? who brings
it, makes it blow and roar and terrify us? Do I know how the corn
sprouts? Yesterday there was not a blade in my field, to-day I returned
to the field and found some; who can have given to the earth the
wisdom and the power to produce it? Then I buried my head in both my
hands."--Cited in PICTON, _Mystery of Matter_, p. 222.