(chapter 15 to follow)
Lionel Richardson, was a mulatto, mixed raced, half-caste, goffal, what ever the world chose to call him, he lived in the coloured(mulatto) designated area of the Rhodesian British Colony. His suburb and the few other colored suburbs were born from British guilt. At the age of 6 a young British lady took him under her wing, helping him improve his pig English, and teaching him to chew with his mouth closed. As part of his training she asked him to create a time vault, where he could store a few earthly treasures for time travel trip in the future to revisit the past. He had no earthly possessions other than the hand me down clothes he was wearing, so he decided to write a letter for his box.
If all truths be true, then you know, knew already that I would take this moment, this time, to write this letter to you today. I wanted to bring to your attentions, a few things that are messed up in your perfect creation. But before I do that, I would like to apologize for addressing you as God, as I am not sure what to address you as, Allah, Jehovah, God, Holy Father, heavenly father, Buddha. For those you have created in your image continually try to define you in theirs.
So many times, I look at my life and find so much wrong, in my inner and outer world, and I want to get down, on my knees and ask you for help, then I think of how many others are doing the same, and come to see how busy you are. I know some of my friends are asking you the same thing over and over again, not even giving you a chance to answer. I am not even sure how you cope with it all, just yesterday, I found a penny cent on the road, and ran to the corner of the street, where the moores men, sit with their carts selling sweets. A brother who was playing football in the school yard, seen me at the corner, and came running to beg for half my sweet. He asked me about 5 times, refusing to acknowledge that I only had one, so I took the sweet and threw it in the sewerage drain, thinking it is better to have nothing then half of something. I heard later that old Scotty from up the road, climbed down the drain and recovered the sweet. Well I understand, you are busy, so I will end my letter here. The teacher is calling me to the front of the class to explain to the everyone, why I did not pay my school fees. Mary wants me to create a time vault.