Surveying the Surging Immensity of Truth

I know people like to know where one comes from, but I very seldom talk about myself, and I express myself unaffectedly so by the melodrama of fame that on the account of my birth, I was given the Afrikan name Mulalo under the auspicious family name of the Netsianda, being the third son of Mr Thomas and Mrs Gladys Netsianda, from the acquainted clan of the GWAMASENGA generation in the outskirts of Thohoyandou in a small village of Makwarani Village, commonly known as Makville, shortly before the release of Nelson Mandela in prison.As one can imagine, growing up under the political and environmental control of the Apartheid system, like any other family in a small village suffered with the rest of the country. In the period in which we speak, Venda was still a separate development of the Bantustan state of Northern Transvaal South Africa.My parents had a life establishment that was founded on a well-considered system for us to be fond of education, even if it was in unwelcoming surroundings.However, I started showing my early aptitude and propensity in my hay days at Makwarani Primary School after the (90s).This added grandeur of enchantment for me to pursue my secondary education at Vhutavhatsindi Secondary School. By this time, I was already dressed up by the effects of anxiety that matric comes with.From this wild suspicious stare of what the future holds for me, I then remained highly agile by the irreparable ravage of tertiary education.From this inheritance of contemporaries, I continued my perennial interest in education from different branches of tertiary institutions.In my younger days, I was much drawn by the tidal information in my father's political books. It is where covetous thoughts concerning the conception of African understanding began from reading these books.From there, my conscious observation of Afrikan's life kept me on putting my foot on the pedal.I have coherently written two books entitled "No Disease Like Poverty" (2010) and "Surveying the Surging Immensity of Truth" (2016), where the combat of passion and reason, gave birth to The State House Artisans from early 2020 to mid-2023 were conceivable ideas concerning the comprehension of African affairs.

The road was busy with people of all walks of life, and the old man therefore rid while his son went on a foot. The first person they met asked the old man if he was not ashamed to ride by himself and suffer the poor little boy to wade along through the old man. This induced him to take up his son behind him. While he had not travelled far, he met another person who said they were two unmerciful being to get both on the bicycle in such a terrible road. Upon this matter, the old man gets off and let's his son ride alone. The next person they met called the young boy ill-disciplined to ride in that manner while his aged father trudged along on foot, and he said an old man was such a fool for suffering it. The old man then bid his son to come down and to walk with him, leading the bicycle by the halter till they met another person who called them a couple of senseless blackheads for both going on foot in such a dirty way when they had an empty bicycle which they might ride upon. The old man could bear no longer. "My son," said he, "it grieves me much that we cannot please all these people. Let us throw the bicycle over the road and be no further troubled with it." Had the old man been seen acting this last resolution, he would have been called a fool for troubling himself about the different opinion of all that were trying to find a fault with him or his son.