Africa’s Hidden History - The Reptilian Agenda by Credo Mutwa (2008).pdf - Credo Mutwa - morefaya2006

CREDO MUTWA

AFRICA’S

HIDDEN HISTORY

THE REPTILIAN AGENDA

Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa , born on 21 July 1921 in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa is a Zulu

Sangoma (traditional healer) and High Sanusi. He is well known and respected for his work

in nature conservation, and as an author of ground breaking books on African mythology

and spiritual beliefs.

Books:

A Woman of Four Paths Ï The Strange Story of a Black Woman in South Africa

2007

Indaba My Children:: African Folktales. Originally published 1964

Zulu Shaman: Dreams, Prophesies, Mysteries. 2003

Songs of the Stars: Lore of a Zulu Shaman

Content

IntroductionÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.ÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..È.ÈÈÈ4

Africa My PeopleÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.ÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.ÈÈÈ.11

Mysteries of AfricaÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.ÈÈÈÈÈ..14

The Origins of the GodsÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..È.....16

The History of the CrossÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..ÈÈÈÈÈ.ÈÈÈÈÈ...19

Children of MarsÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..È.ÈÈ.È.21

Holy Places in South AfricaÈÈÈ..ÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.È..22

Interview about Alien Abductions and Reptilians..ÈÈÈÈÈÈ..È26

Credo Mutwa in Plea to save Africa from Illuminati GenocideÈ....67

AIDS in South AfricaÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..72

Credo reveals AIDS TreatmentÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ78

The Living Lakes ConferenceÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..82

News for the SoulÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ86

The Theft of the Necklace of MysteriesÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.92

Baba Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa on Barack Obama È.ÈÈÈÈÈ98

Challenging Times AheadÈÈÈ..ÈÈ..ÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ..100

Supplement : The Alien AgendaÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈÈ.105

Introduction

I was born in Zululand on the 21st July 1921 according to my father. When

my father met my mother, he had just lost his wife and a number of children

in a terrible influenza epidemic, which had spread through Southern Africa,

killing thousands of people in the years 1918 and 1919. Thus my father was

a widower with three surviving children.

When my parents met it was in the year 1920, and my father was a builder

and a Christian, and my mother was a young Zulu girl who practiced the

ancient religion of the Zulu people. I am told that my parents were deeply in

love with each other and wanted to get married, but the white missionaries

forbade my father from marrying my mother until she became a Christian.

My motherÔs father was a crusty old warrior who had taken part in the bitter

wars that the Zulus had fought against the English, and he coldly refused to

allow his daughter to come under the yoke of what he called the "religion of

our enemies." I cannot allow my child to become a Christian," my

grandfather was said to have said," These Christians are a race of thieves, of

liars, and murderers, who stole our country from us at sword point and at

gunpoint. I would rather die than see a Christ worshipping Christian within

the stockade of my village. Never!"

Caught between catholic missionaries on one hand, and a stubborn old Zulu

warrior on the other, my mother and father had no choice but to separate.

Although my father already suspected that my mother was pregnant. A great

scandal broke out in my grandfatherÔs village when my motherÔs pregnancy

was discovered. My grandfather chased my mother out of his homestead and

she was taken by one of her aunts to her own village and there she gave

birth to me, an illegitimate child, a child of shame. In those days there was

no greater shame among the Zulus than for a girl to give birth out of

wedlock. A great stigma was attached to this thing. After a time however, my

grandfather allowed my mother - whom he loved dearly to return, back to his

village and he insisted that she was not to see my father again.

It so happened that when I was about a year old, a younger brother of my

fathers, who had heard about my birth come up from the Natal South Coast

to my mothers village and asked my grandfathers permission to take me

away, permission that my grandfather angrily granted. "Remove this disgrace

from my home, Christian fellow!" he said to my fathers brother," And tell

your brother that if I ever set eyes on him, I will make him suffer bitterly for

what he did to my daughter. I will seize him and kill him very slowly indeed.

Tell him that. I was taken to my fatherÔs home in the South of Natal, on the

northern bank of the Umkumazi River, and there I grew up. And it was while

growing up that it was discovered that I was something of a visionary and a

prophet. A talent, which together with an artistic inclination, to draw and to

sculpt, the woman who now brought me up, my fathers new wife, did her

uttermost to suppress.

I did not attend school until I was well within my 14th year of life. And

because my family now kept on travelling, as a result of my fathers building

profession, which took him from town to town, we became a family of

travellers, who never stayed long in one place.

In 1935, my father found a job, a major building job, in the Transvaal and he

brought us all from natal to join him where he was building. I attended

school on and off in different schools, and then, in 1937 I went through great

shock and trauma, when I was seized and sodomized by a gang of

mineworkers outside a mine compound. This caused me to be ill for a long

time.

And although I was taken to white doctors, I could find no help until my

fathers brother, the same one who had taken me away from my maternal

grandfather decided to take me back to my mothers village in the hope that I

would find help there. And I did. My grandfather, a man whom my father

despised as a heathen and a demon worshipper helped me and brought me

back to health, where Christian doctors had failed. I, still a Christian and a

confessing catholic, had not believed at all that my grandfather would be

able to help me. And I was greatly surprised when he did, and I began to

wonder were not the missionaries wrong when they called people such as my

grandfather ungodly heathens. If my grandfather had been a stupid heathen

savage, as white missionaries loved to call people like him, how is it that he

had been able to help me?

It was here that I began to question many things that I never questioned

before. Where our ancestors really the savages that quiet missionaries would

have us believe they were? Were we Africans really a race of primitives who

possessed no knowledge at all before the white man came to Africa? These

and many, many other questions began to haunt my mind. And then one

day when he was sure that I was fully returned to health, my grandfather

told me that the illness that had been troubling me for so long, had actually

been a sacred illness which required that I had to become a shaman, a

healer. And when the old man said this to me, I readily agreed to undergo

initiation at the hands of one of my grandfatherÔs daughters, a young

sangoma named Myrna.

When they heard that I had become a sangoma, both my father and my

stepmother, told my maternal uncle that I was never to set foot in their home

again. And so I found myself on my own, a youth without a home, without

family and so I began travelling. First I went to Swaziland and then the land

of the Basotho, and I developed a wanderlust that was to be with me until

today. I was not travelling for enjoyment, however I was travelling for

knowledge, in search of clarity of mind and in search of the truth about my

people.

Sometimes I would find jobs for a few months and then move on. Sometimes

I found myself travelling with missionaries, the very people in whom I no

longer believed. Sometimes I found myself travelling with miners, returning

home from the Johannesburg gold mines. I came into contact with men and

women of countries that I had not known about before. I learned things that

Africa’s Hidden History - The Reptilian Agenda by Credo Mutwa (2008).pdf

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