In the Beginning: Mars Origin I Series Book I

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “They don’t care about man,” Doobie said. “You know, the government is spending all this money on nuclear warheads and flights out in space when the world is starving. Look at the article in Justin’s magazine, ‘World Hunger.’ It’s terrible. I drive down the streets at night sometimes and I see people sleeping on the sidewalks.”

  “Sleeping on the sidewalks?” me and Claire voiced in unison.

  “Yeah, sleeping on the sidewalks.”

  “Where?” Claire asked.

  “Downtown. You should see them. Mostly men. They lay on the ground next to the sewer holes where the steam is coming up to keep themselves warm. I’ve gone and taken them some food and coffee a couple of times. Gave them a little money. But it’s really sad.”

  “They’re just lying there?” Claire was really upset.

  “Yes, Claire, just lying there. They don’t lay there all day. It’s where they sleep. Some of them have blankets, which a lot of them match so maybe some organization or something gave them to them.”

  “That’s really sad,” I said. “Man that really depresses me. Seems like something could be done about that. I mean look at all the abandoned buildings around. It seems as if some of them could be renovated to allow room for people at least to sleep at night and get out of the cold. Someone should help.”

  “You never helped,” Doobie said. “You could help.”

  “I never knew they were there.” What a thing for him to say. “I don’t go downtown at night.”

  “So, the government has all this money to go to outer space and spend a billion dollars on a race with the Russians to see who can build the biggest and bestest fire power. Why not give a couple thousand dollars to heat up a building at night, where people can go and sleep,” Michael said.

  “’Bestest’ is not a word, Michael,” Gerald said. “Is that what you’re teaching those seven-year-olds?”

  “You know Greg is right,” Doobie got very serious. “No one cares about the underdog, or even mankind in general. Not the world, not our government, heck, not the people in the world. Everyone just seems to care about themselves. Look at how they did the original race of people.”

  “Who?” Claire asked.

  “Black people.”

  “Blacks?” Claire and I spoke in unison again.

  “You think that Blacks are the original race of people?” Claire asked.

  “Yeah, I do. The first people on Earth were black,” Doobie answered. “Justin, you’re an archaeologist, you should know this. The oldest remains of man were found in Africa.”

  I didn’t say a word.

  “Doobie, where did you get that from?” Greg said.

  “The Bible says that Jesus was black,” Gerald added. Evidently he agreed with Doobie’s theory.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Claire said her face turning red. “And, I mean I love my people, and always love to hear about great people that were black, but Jesus was not black and if he had been that doesn’t make the first people black.”

  I stayed quiet. Even though this conversation covered both of my areas of expertise, Bible history and archaeology, I didn’t want to get into this argument.

  “The Bible does not say that Jesus was black,” Claire repeated her comment. She was obviously upset with what Gerald had said. “And the ‘Black’ race didn’t even begin until about the 1600s.”

  “What? Claire what are you talking about?” Doobie was almost shouting. “There have always been blacks, whether you agree that they were the first man or not, you can’t disagree that blacks have always existed.”

  That’s not true, is it, Justin? I opened my mouth to speak but she didn’t give me time to get out an answer. “There may have always been people with ‘black’ skin, but the race didn’t come into being until after slavery started. Before then there were only Africans. A pure race of people. Blacks are derived from a mixture of Africans, Caucasian and/or other people. Before then if there were any blacks they were scattered here and there from the occasional mating between Africans and non-Africans, but there were no ‘race’ of people.

  I looked at Claire in surprise. She actually said something that made sense.

  “And show me where it says that Jesus was black.” She was on a roll now.

  “The Bible says his hair was like wool,” Gerald defended his comment. “Black-skinned people are the only people on earth with hair like wool.”

  “That’s not true,” Sean said. “There are some people from the Middle East – Arabs and Jews that have kinky hair.”

  “The Bible says his hair was the color of wool,” Callie corrected, “which, is white.”

  “Justin?” Claire wanted me to talk. I was still trying to stay out of the conversation. But Claire was getting the best of Gerald and Doobie, I couldn’t resist helping her out.

  “Actually, there are two verses that make reference to his hair being like wool. In the first chapter of Revelation it says, “His head and His hair were like wool, as white as snow . . .’ The other is in the book of Daniel and it says, “the hair of his head like pure wool . . .’”

  “Right. Jesus was a Jew. His hair was curly like Jews,” Claire proclaimed. “And both of those references referred to his second coming, right, Justin?” I nodded. “So his hair could have been different when he first walked the earth. Maybe it wasn’t even curly, maybe it was straight. You couldn’t even prove the sun rose and set with a theory that weak.”

  “Tell him, Dr. Claire.” Greg was thoroughly amused at Claire’s rationality.

  “Well, I still believe that the world was once inhabited only by Blacks. Blacks were the first people on earth. And if you want to say that they were not from the quote, Black, unquote race, that’s fine. They had black skin and they were a black people,” Doobie was unmoved by Claire’s argument.

  “So Adam and Eve were black?” Claire asked.

  “Yes, they were,” Doobie answered.

  “Noah was black?”

  “Yep.”

  “Moses was black?”

  “Yep.” Doobie answered.

  “And so was Aaron, their sister Miriam, David, and Solomon, they were all black,” Gerald said. Guess he just decided to cover them all.

  “So, why did Aaron and Miriam get mad when Moses was going to marry a woman with black skin?”

  “Nobody ever said that,” Doobie frowned up at Claire.

  “It’s in the Bible,” Claire said.

  “No, it isn’t,” he said confidently.

  “Justin?” Claire looked over at me.

  I nodded my head, “Numbers, Chapter 12.”

  “Doesn’t matter they were all black,” Doobie said.

  “Doobie, you sound crazy.”

  Doobie chuckled, “Well, Claire, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Everybody laughed. I don’t think Claire got it because she kept right on talking.

  “Doobie, you and Gerald just can’t take one verse out of the Bible and build an entire concept on it. That’s as bad as early Americans using the verse about light and dark shouldn’t mix to uphold slavery. That verse had nothing to do with skin color it was talking about good and evil. Your interpretations are just as wrong as that.”

  “C’mon Doobie,” Michael interjected. “Think about it. Where did all the other races come from? You can’t get anything from black but black.”

  “And I guess you think you can get black from white, Michael? No, you can’t. Take an anthropology class or pick up a history book sometime. Find out where the earliest remains of man were found. And you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

  “How did a conversation about aliens get to be a vehicle for Doobie’s militant tenets?” Callie shook her head.

  “That is not a militant statement or idea, it happens to be the truth,” Doobie said.

  The lights blew out on the tree with a sizzle and pop and a small bluish spark that made us jump. It took everyone’s attention away from the conversation and back to how incompete
nt my brothers were about putting up Christmas lights.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Discomposed.

  That’s how I felt whenever I thought about those manuscripts. And since Doobie’s “first people” theory at the Christmas Eve dinner, my brain had been working in double time.

  Even by the time I got back to work, knowing I should be devoting all my time to the tour, I sat in my office, staring out into space, absentmindedly, with those manuscripts dangling in my face. One race of people was exactly what the faded manuscripts had declared. Well according to Dr. Yeoman.

  ‘For we have found that difference breeds hatred.’

  Doobie may have understood that concept, but it had me totally confused.

  There was a very important piece for the tour coming to the museum in a few days. I needed to make travel and storage arrangements until the tour began. It had been one of the Dr. Margulies’ favorite and I wanted to take special care with it. But I couldn’t bring myself to get set to the task at hand.

  So, I had promised myself not to ever let those things back in my life. Promises. Smosises. I couldn’t do it. I was tired of fighting with myself over those things. I mean, how was I supposed to fight destiny?

  The phone ringing brought me back from the land of la -la. I glanced at my watch, 11:45. Where had the time gone? It was Ty.

  I hadn’t told her anything about my conspiracy theory. Greg had warned me to be careful about throwing accusations of murder and theft around. He was convinced that it was all in my head. I did tell her that the seminar had stopped abruptly, but nothing more.

  “Hi,” she answered, cheerfully.

  “Where are you?” I asked. She sounded far away.

  “I’m at the hairdressers. Wanna do lunch?”

  “Sure. But I can’t go far because I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Not that I was getting any of it done.

  “How about if I go to Gallucci’s and pick up a couple of salads? We could go down to the duck pond in front of the Art Museum and eat.”

  “The duck pond?” I said. “Girl, it’s cold outside. Have you forgotten this is the end of December in Cleveland? Where do you think you are, Palm Beach?”

  “How did you get to work? In a vacuum? You couldn’t have gone outside because it’s nice out, like sixty-six degrees or something. Just meet me there at 1:00, okay?”

  Okay, but make my salad lasagna.”

  “Lasagna?” The disapproval in her voice was obvious. “That is not good for you. Too much cholesterol,” she fussed. “Don’t you know we are getting too old to eat like that anymore? We both have to watch what we eat.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll just load it up with salt, that’ll make my blood pressure high enough to push that cholesterol right through those little arteries that way nothing gets clogged up.”

  I could hear her gasp over the phone.

  “Well, I want you to know that when you die, I’m going to forget I was ever your friend and I’m marrying your husband and putting your kids in foster care somewhere.”

  I laughed. “Just don’t forget the salt.”

  I heard a ‘beep-beep’ over the phone.

  “I gotta go,” she said hurriedly. “This phone is beeping. They must have another call coming in. See you at one, okay?”

  I left as soon as I hung up from Ty. I let my assistant, Nichelle, know that I was having lunch with Ty and would be late getting back because I needed to check on something in our off-site storage. I really didn’t need to check on anything. I just didn’t want to be at work anymore.

  I put on my coat, my knit hat and scarf, leather gloves and walked out the back door of the museum. As soon as I got outside, a warm, gentle breeze blew against my face and the sun was beaming down like on a mid-summer day. Ty was right. It was beautiful out.

  It must be the end of the world, I thought. I raised my head skyward, closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I smiled at the sun and remembered how my mother told us that the Bible said you’ll know the end of the world is near because, “You won’t be able to tell the changing of the seasons except for the budding of the trees.” I have read the Bible a zillion times and exactly where that verse is, is a mystery to me, but I certainly am not going to question my mother. And judging by this weather and her interpretation, the end must be pretty close. I turned around went back inside and flung my hat and scarf across my desk.

  I walked aimlessly around University Circle, the home of Cleveland’s museums and symphony. I decided to go in the Art Museum while I waited on Ty. There was a turquoise exhibit that I could see to pass the time.

  I love the Art Museum. Cleveland has one of the best. Even the building, a neoclassic structure of white Georgian marble, was appealing to the eye. But soon after arriving there, I found that’s all I was going to see. I couldn’t get into the exhibit because there was an admission fee. The museum itself is free but not the exhibit. I’d left my purse at work since Ty was treating and had only brought ID.

  Back to walking.

  And, without anything else to occupy my mind, it was back to thinking about the manuscripts and the one race of people.

  “Oh well,” I said out loud, after wandering around for a little while. I glanced at my watch. I had been walking for more than an hour and I didn’t understand the one race idea any more than I had all morning. I shook my thoughts off and went to look for Ty.

  “Hi,” she smiled. I found her on the far end of the duck pond sitting on a bench.

  “Hey. Your hair looks nice.” Her hair, cut into a short bob, was as black and silky as a raven. I sat down beside her.

  “Thanks,” she pushed a bag toward me and scrunched up her nose. “I bought you salad. I really don’t want to have to marry Mase.”

  “No you didn’t,” I said.

  She smiled and pulled out a pan of lasagna. “Give it here,” I snatched it from her.

  “Girl, you are pitiful!” she said and laughed.

  “And, where is my salt?” I narrowed my eyes accusingly.

  She handed me one pack. I took the bag from her and dug in it until I came up with two more packs.

  “Yep.” She handed me an orange juice out of another bag. “You seem like you’re on another planet or something lately,” Ty said. “What’s up with you?” She took a bite of a sandwich.

  I frowned at her, “I thought you were going to have a salad.”

  “Changed my mind,” she answered with a mouth full of food. “But it’s turkey, lean turkey, no mayo and lots of veggies, see.” She held it over so I could look at it. I nodded my head.

  “Where were you coming from? The Art Museum?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to look at the new turquoise exhibit.”

  “How was it?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I forgot my purse at work and there’s a charge to get in.”

  “Can’t you get in free or something? I was under the impression that you run things around here.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “I probably could get in for free, but that defeats the purpose of having the exhibit, which is to help make money for the Arts.”

  “I love Indian Art. Maybe we could come back and see it later?”

  “Sure, but it’s not Indian, it’s African.”

  “Oh really? That’s cool. I’ll call you later and we can get together.”

  After laughing and talking about nothing in particular, watching ducks and swans snootily swim around the pond, Ty, not twenty minutes after she arrived, popped the last of her sandwich in her mouth, put all her trash into my bag, stood up and dusted the crumbs off of her coat. She looked up at the sky and looked back down at me, “See, I told you it was nice out here,” she smiled at me. “Okay,” she said, “I gotta go. I got a date.”

  “With whom?” I asked. “I know it’s not a lunch date.”

  She laughed and winked at me. “I’ll call you later.”

  I sat on the bench for a while after Ty left and looked out across t
he pond. The manuscripts crept back into my thoughts. Even with Doobie’s concurrence to the notion, I didn’t have a clue about the single race idea. Not one clue. I watched the ducks frolicking in the water. Looks like they didn’t have a clue about anything either. Here they were in Cleveland, in December, swimming around in a pond. What happened to flying south? This wasn’t even the south side of the city.

  I slowly walked back to my museum.

  ‘One people.’ Maybe I should go on blind faith like Doobie because playing detective wasn’t working for me. I can’t even put two and two together. I could try to figure this out all night and probably still only come up with three.

  Let me think about this. It’s true that all the early remains of man came from Africa. Whether there were all black is a different story. But if they did come from Africa, they didn’t stay there long. I’d recently read an article that the remains of a man had been found in California at least 20,000 years older than any other remains found in that part of the world. Ancient bones are turning up everywhere. Clearly man populated the globe sooner than was originally thought.

  Is it possible that the remains of early man that were being found all around the globe were of one race? Could there have, at one time, only been ‘one people?’ Well, Adam and Eve were. But that couldn’t be what the manuscripts meant.

  If there had been one race of people, there should be some kind of evidence. And the one race wouldn’t have stayed in one place, they would have migrated. So then, by the time the explorers came, who were already ‘many races,’ they should have found some evidence.

  Think Justin, what kind of people was found everywhere new land was discovered?

  I walked back by the Art Museum and thought about the turquoise exhibit. I wish I could have seen it. Maybe I will call Ty, I thought, and see if she really wants to come back. Or maybe I’ll just go by myself. It struck me as funny that Ty just automatically assumed that it was Indian Art.

  Then it hit me. Oh my goodness that’s it. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before.