Double Tribal, Double Trouble and You We're glad to be here today, you and I. We come to share our stories and to find out more about each other. I remember being here some time ago with a friend. It was just a walk along a country lane and we seemed to walk for hours, catching up on the gossip, talking about the latest events in our lives. We went home for lunch and came back again and again, our conversations as interesting as ever, so much so that even when the sun started to sink in the sky we still did not get tired of one another. Let's continue the conversation. Now it is evening, the last rays of the sun on your part and the dawn on mine. There's been so much talk these last few days that I need to take you for a walk. We'll start at the beginning. Where do you come from? You laugh. Your friend's question sounds like something out of a joke. It's only you who wants to know. Don't ask so many questions. Just let me explain this to you in our conversation. You know what I meant though, don't you? No, you never know what I am going to talk about, do you? Anyway, let's do as we say and start at the beginning. I've travelled. I have to admit that. From somewhere near here, in South-East Asia. I'm still not sure what country it is where I'm from, but I do know that it's in Asia. I was lucky, I thought that maybe a new and better life awaited me in a new country, but now I'm not so sure. I don't know how far along my journey I've got. But I have to tell you that already I've been through a lot of suffering. I can tell you about it one day, but not right now. Not now when everything is different. Right now I need your help. A new journey, a new country? You look out the window at the horizon. It's the sea you are seeing, at the other side of the country, a long way from where you live. It looks clean, the breeze blowing in on it, making it sparkle. It looks calm and the light in the sky, which reaches all the way down to where you are, makes it look like a painting. And you? Are you a painter, or would you say that you have a painter's eye? There's an idea... It will be so. You will lead me there. You'll take me to your country. You can stay as long as you want. I'm sure you'll be able to buy a large house, paint it your own way, and then in a month or two I'll be back. You've never been there before, never seen anything like it before. You'll fall in love with it. It's your country, your own country. But it's not the country I was born in, that's what I'm trying to say. I was born here. I'd be lying if I said I haven't missed the life there, that's what I'm trying to say. How you see it, it's beautiful. It will be yours, when I'm not there anymore. It will be a memory. Just like I am a memory. I hope you'll have a beautiful house as well. You deserve that, don't you? Maybe not for that reason, but for some other reason, and you'll understand me. I like your questions, always. You make everything easier for me and when I think about all the things you are telling me now, my heart swells with joy. Yes, it is so. But look outside, you've missed something. The sky above your house is no longer blue, but it is purple. The wind is still gentle, but it's getting colder, and you can feel it in your body. You turn round and look at the sky, you are going to say something, but you don't say anything. The wind rushes in again, blowing even stronger now and you begin to feel that something is really wrong. The wind has changed course and the next time you look out of the window you see a storm. It's far away, but you can see the lightning and the clouds moving towards you, and you try to run to get out. You don't manage it and you're caught in the headlights. And then the crash... You look at the window and all the glass is broken. A strong hand pulls you from under the car. You stand up. You are already out of the car. You try to get away. But there is nowhere to go, the ground is full of glass and you can't get to your feet. The car starts to roll. Everything is blurred and broken glass, it catches your clothes and your skin, your eyes are full of blood. And still you try to run away. A hand grabs you and pulls you out of there. You feel a hand and a voice in the darkness, and something holds you in a powerful grip. And the voice speaks to you: "You're going to die. Maybe not today, but soon, I'm sure of it, you won't survive this. I don't want to, but I have to leave now." And you say, but he's right. You can't run away now. You want to look at him one last time, but he doesn't answer. You can't even turn around to look back at him. He's standing behind you, waiting for the police, or someone who wants to take you in. No matter, they'll find you eventually. They can always find you, if you have no intention of running away. Then, when you've said this, he says: "Can you hear the siren?" You shake your head. He squeezes your shoulder and turns to go. You want to ask him something else, but you can't. You only want to say, wait! Please don't leave me! Don't leave me here, stay with me! But he walks away and then he's gone. He's left you to yourself. You hear the door close behind him and a second later a dog begins to bark. The night is so cold, and the pain has become much worse now, you can feel it. It hurts so much that you wonder if he's taking you to a doctor, maybe even a hospital, but you know that you have no choice. You try to sit up again. Your shoulder feels so heavy, but you try, you try so hard. You have to keep going. There is nothing left of the car, it's all broken up. You lift your hand to your head and feel that you have blood in your hair. A few drops fall into the sand on the ground and, although you're cold and alone, you smile. And then you hear him. A voice and a dog, you don't know where it's coming from. The voice shouts, "I'll get help!" And you know, you really know, you're on your own now. ## A Walk with God and Us The stars seemed to come closer this time and the sky grew bigger, bigger than before. The stars shone stronger than before too. But more than the stars and the sky, there was a feeling, a feeling that had been inside us for a long time. The stars shone but there was something that shone even brighter, even though it was very far away, somewhere in the distance. It wasn't because of us that it shone so brightly. No one was there, only us, but you'd already said that. No, this feeling was shining, for it was us. We looked around and, when we felt the wind, we felt something that we didn't know we felt. At first we didn't understand that this was it, the beginning of a new life. We weren't exactly sure if we could be happy or if we were happy already. This feeling didn't want us to be happy. It wanted us to be afraid of ourselves. We were walking now, but we felt more than we could describe. And yet we couldn't stop. And we knew that something was wrong. What was wrong was that something wasn't like it used to be. For years we'd had no idea that things were missing. They were missing because they had been there. And now things were different and that was it. And it would get worse. This thought had hardly been a thought before. But now it had sunk into us and made itself at home. If this was how it was, it would get worse. Now you said it would get worse. Now we understood that something was happening. We felt different and something was different as well. We had thought about it before, but now it seemed more concrete. And we felt we had to know what was different about us. But how was it possible for us to know? And what did it really mean to feel different? What was that? And, before we asked this, we turned our eyes to where we had been, we turned them towards the past. The past is a time in which all the questions can be answered. We are not yet all there is left for us to do. A time in which the answers were there, before we could ask, before we could know the questions and the answers. All that was left for us to do was to take the answers. Asking a question