Coup D’État in the Land of Zep Tepi: A Progress Report

By Buiteboer

If you have ever wondered where the human obsession with the apocalypse comes from, if you ever wanted to know why the world did not come to an end on 21 December 2012, as prophesied by the Mayan calendar and propagated by paranoid apocalyptomaniacs, then Coup Dtat in the Land of Zep Tepi: A Progress Report, is for you. But why?

Story Hunter out on a harebrained mission from Juba (capital of the newly independent Republic of Southern Sudan) to Lake Mwitanzige (named Lake Albert in colonial lingo) stumbles upon a legend somewhere in the depths of Central Africa. This will in due course turn out to be one of the most controversial discoveries to jump from the mists of mythological time into the twenty-first century. To be precise, on the border between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda, a legend speaks about the disappearance of a tribe called Bachwezi into Lake Mwitanzige.

This exposes information concerning goings-on in ancient Egypt around 1450 BC. Story Hunter and Buiteboers research reveals that the Bachwezi had fled from Egypt into the depths of Central Africa. They fled from Pharaoh Akhnaten, who had out of the blue imposed a religious singularity on the ancient lands that bore a multiplicity of gods, goddesses, demigods, and godlike human pharaonic rulers.

The publication of this story in turn upsets a delicate balance of forces in the realm of the heavens. It speculates that the Bachwezi may have found, in Lake Mwitanzige, a portal by way of which to transmigrate and take the rebellion against a prophecy of their doom, expressed by the singularity Akhnaten, off the world. Did they make a quantum leap of faith, like Gilgamesh, the demigod king of Uruk, to postlife outerplanetary realms where the gods reside?

After the Uganda discovery, the report accounts how while on a side journey through Mozambiques Zambezi Valley, where the Cahora Basa dam lies, Story Hunter is ambushed by a strange old man. He shows Story Hunter how, in precolonial times, the Songo people built a tower to reach heaven. This causes Story Hunter to be catapulted into an off-world realm where it becomes clear that all is not what it seems in Kosher, Vegan, or even Halaal in the postlife off-worldly realms. Will it turn out that the Bachwezi may in fact have staged an insurgency or are plotting a coup in the land of Zep Tepi?

Volume 1 of Coup Dtat in the Land of Zep Tepi: A Progress Report exposes for the first time how a legend from Central Africa explains the extremely violent obsession humans and their religions have with catastrophes, apocalypses, and the like. Be it said as well, the pages of this report, hastily typed by Buiteboer in the course of one very hot South African summer night, also sheds light on the question as to why the world did not come to an end on 21 December 2012, as apparently foretold by the Mayan calendar.

Did the Bachwezi have a hand in staying the course of the ticking time bomb hidden in the codes of the Mayan calendar? Will we meet RA and Quetzalcoatl at the other end of dawn?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Aug 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482875621

Buiteboer

Buiteboer likes to describe himself in many different ways. Sometimes he is an outfiltration technician—meaning he finds ways of dislocating consciousness from the here and organic now of planet earth. The goal is to outfiltrate into intangible spirit or other imaginary off-worldly realms. Alternatively, he is known to say that one has to move through this planet without allowing any of the shit to stick to you on the way out. Like a proverbial Teflon man (the one to whom nothing sticks) Buiteboer can therefore at best be introduced as someone who hails from a country at the top of the world (that is, if you turn the world map upside down to have the south face the north and vice versa)—South Africa. As a result of being born at the top of the world, he is a lifelong explorer of both the physical and nonphysical realities that envelop the senses. As a curious cat among the pigeons, Buiteboer’s name itself, if unpacked in his native tongue, Afrikaans, already tells a story of its own. Buite means “outside,” and Boer is basically referring to the ethnic name attached to a white settler tribe that fought two brutal wars of independence against the British Empire in the late 1800s. He is a Boer from the outside, always exploring in places where the mist of myth overlaps with terra firma—and incognita. Buiteboer can therefore best be described in words from Led Zeppelin’s song “Kashmir”: I’m a traveler of all kinds of space.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Petrus de Kock.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/africa

Contents

Part I:    To Begin Somewhere

•  20.12.12

•  21.12.12

•  22.12.12

•  23-12-12: Two Days After the World Did Not End

•  The Dawn Raider Fragment

•  Dullstroom Breakfast

•  Entrenched in Hazyview: Beam Me Up, Scotty

Part II:    Knocking on Heaven, Or Is It, Zep Tepi’s Door?

•  Teflon Man!

•  Stairways to Zep Tepi: The Bachwezi People’s Disappearance into Lake Mwitanzige

•  The Heavenly Metal Fragment

•  A visit to Cahora Bassa and the Discovery of Crumbling Towers to Heaven

•  The Verbum Significatium Fragment

Part III:    As It Is in Zep Tepi, It Is on Earth

•  Dig in, Close the Hatches

•  Burroughs and Other Unconnected Dots

•  The Magical Versus One God Universe Fragment

•  Welcome to the Waghdas

•  Train Station Lost between Tracks to Nowhere and Never-Land

•  Official Entry Fragment 1

•  Outfiltration Fragment: Discovery in the Lands of Legend

•  Torture Resumes Temporarily

•  Of Lost Bodies 1

•  Of Lost Bodies 2

•  Of Lost Bodies 3: Buiteboer Dials a Ugandan Cell Number

•  Infiltration Techniques to Launch a Hostile Take-Over of Someone Else’s Outfiltration

•  Strikes and Violence in the Memory Mine 1

•  Strikes and Violence in the Memory Mine 2: Buiteboer’s Discovery about Darfur

•  Alecia Dreams

Part I

To Begin Somewhere

Quetzalcoatl.JPG

Quetzalcoatl – the Mayan Plumed Serpent

20.12.12

Tomorrow, according to the Mayan calendar and other Apocalyptomaniacs, the world will come to an abrupt end. It is for this reason that I, Buiteboer, decided to pen these notes. My logic is: if I am still here tomorrow to continue with them, it means that either the end passed me by or that the dramatic grand finale of everything did not take place at all.

21.12.12

Nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, has happened yet. Although the day was, I should add, complicated by technical failures and communication errors. But that can happen on any given day on this planet. What, with sun flares that create disturbances in space weather, and countless types of rays that bombard planet earth from the depths of space, a little bit of communications breakdown can be expected at any given moment. Nevertheless, this means that we still have a few hours to go before the twenty-first runs out of steam. Maybe something is still in store for us?

22.12.12

Yip, clearly yesterday was a grand scale non-event. The planet still rocks through space with its cargo of humanoids, their bloodlust and religio-political guilt trips. But, the fact that yesterday was such a non-event means that I have to complete these notes and ultimately conjure, out of nothing, a report to prop up and provide content support for its somewhat mysterious title – Coup d’état in the Land of Zep Tepi: A Progress Report.

So, clearly the end of the world did not roll into town to relieve me of writing this report. People are breathing down my neck for answers.

23-12-12: Two Days After the World Did Not End

Pyramid%20of%20the%20Sun.JPG

Pyramid of the Sun outside Mexico City

It is necessary to start out with something familiar, like bike riding, in order to ease the nerves into the rivers of time we’re yet to cross on the way to Zep Tepi. And come they will. The report, therefore, starts off on an effortless day of motorbike riding from Gauteng to Mpumalanga, because it is only on two wheels that thoughts can be let loose like wind. From the weightless observation post of the seat, the rider moves between organic and inorganic states of futures long past.

*     *     *

From Johannesburg to Dullstroom is a quick, quiet, early cruise just days after the world did not end. This report, Buiteboer reports to himself – inside the shell of the skull which is on its part lodged inside an outer shell, the helmet – deals with a whole lot of perplexing issues.

The fact that the world did not end on 21 December 2012, Buiteboer conjectures inside the helmet by now filled with the fresh smell of tall Highveld grass and wet earth, could potentially be connected to another set of incidents and coincidences pertaining to Story Hunter, his friend and co-conspirator’s abrupt disappearance from a story-line yet to appear a few pages into the future of this report.

*     *     *

Buiteboer approaches bike trips as extended periods wherein mental notes can be made. At this moment, he decides that when the opportunity presents itself later in the day, to report that developments in this report (incorporating a forgotten, and now re-discovered, Land of Zep Tepi) twists, weaves, dives, snakes, and moves through at least ten African countries. It involves several times and time zones, and more importantly, flings its pages on the inkpots of otherworldly realms referred to by many names around the world. Words like Heaven, Upstairs, Hades, the Dustlands, Underworld, Twilight zone, Hyperspace, Parallel worlds/universes/ realities, and the like.

*     *     *

Hence, the decision to firstly report on how the motorbike rolls out of a quiet Johannesburg at 3.30 a.m. in the midst of the holiday season that leaves the M- and N1’s sparsely populated.

The best bike rides start long before dawn, especially in winter.

Lt%20Pass.JPG

Long Tom Pass – Mpumalanga

The Dawn Raider Fragment

At dawn, rider and machine encounters and crosses the fault-line between night and day. Like a shadow of night, rider and machine (e)merge with the first rays of light on an open road. Like RA aboard his celestial ship, or Apollo steering a burning chariot from the depths of the underworld, the rider and machine appear on the road as part and parcel of the message of day.

Maya%20Inspired%20Murals%20-%20Mexico%20City.JPG

Maya Inspired Murals – Mexico City

At first light, the helmet cracks a fragile skull of night sky. Rider and machine slip out as a vanguard party carrying the sun’s ray-gun with which to blind and chase back to realms of darkness the last dog-headed demons still trying their luck in the shadows of pre-dawn.

The exhaust issues a clarion call for semi-wake people snoozing now after a whole night’s cavorting. The wheels ploughing through thin air pass homes where feet soft shoe shuffle through doors so as not to wake someone who should not know the ungodly hour of one’s eternal drunken returns.

This report has to be read like a bike as it rides the wind.

Dullstroom Breakfast

Pyramid%20of%20the%20moon.JPG

Pyramid of the Moon outside Mexico City

After some more time in the saddle, Dullstroom creeps up on the map. Pull over for breakfast. A friendly plattelandse type waiter, who still seems to be genuinely interested in the client he waits on, appears. Or perhaps, the platteland is better at faking sincerity than the city?

Breakfast arrives. A typical South African feast of pap, bacon, boerewors, and two fried eggs. They even bucket in some toast, which is declined. Mind keeps on wondering how to get this report on Story Hunter (SH) on the way.

With breakfast squarely parked in the belly, bike opens up for the Long Tom pass. The road snakes into sweeping corners. Everything’s exhibiting symptoms of summer’s deep green. Mountains heave themselves into existence from deep valleys, thus relieving the roads of their monotonous straightness.

Buiteboer sets a cold eye on the corner, body leans into the curve. In the corners at speed, life’s nothing but weightless movement suspended somewhere between the rider’s body and the machine’s design. The machine does as Buiteboer’s eyes and ass say. Effortless the throttle opens as yet another corner eases out of its own curl.

*     *     *

Through Nelspruit the heat is turned on. Outside Hazyview, Buiteboer stops at his accommodation for the night. Birds talk up a storm in the ample shade of trees. After a shower he parks himself on the