It has been 7 months since I left Cheaha Mountain.  I had forced my mind to forget Asha.  There was no point dwelling in a sorrow that would end soon.  The Botswana commune was little more than large tribe.  They had not changed their way of living for many years even prior to the outbreak.  The tribe was filled with both "Asirs", the chosen, and "Humayun", the blessed.  Those who did not receive the messages did not consider themselves cursed.  They accepted fate and wished to live in peace until it was time.  The lack of technology and communication was not hard to accustom to.  It was if this was where I was meant to belong all along.  

The first man to take me in was Adisa.  He spoke English from growing up in Ireland with his adopted parents.  After their death, he returned to Botswana.  Soon thereafter, the messages began for him.

For the rest of the night we sat in silence.  There was nothing else to say, all that was left was time.