socrates: dear divine postman, whither away, and where do you come from?
divine postman: from plato socrates, the son of ariston; and iAM going for a walk outside the wall. for i spent a long time there with plato, sitting since early morning; and on the advice of your friend and mine, samantha, iAM taking my walk on the roads; for she says they are less fatiguing than the streets.
socrates: he is right, my friend. then, plato, it appears was in the city?
divine postman: yes, at mbuso’s house, the one that belonged to athi, near slumtown.
socrates: what was your conversation? but it is obvious that plato entertained you with his speeches.
divine postman: you shall hear, if you have leisure to walk along and listen. nothing stays the same socrates everything changes.
socrates: for when a baby is born, she is being constantly prepared for her new environment. but don’t you believe that i consider hearing your conversations with plato a greater thing even than business, as pindar says?
divine postman: lead on, then.
divine postman: indeed, socrates, you are just the man to hear it. for the discourse about which we conversed, was in a way, a love speech. for plato has represented one of the beauties being tempted, but not by a lover; this is just the clever thing about it; for he says that favors should be granted rather to the one who is not in love than to the lover.
socrates: o noble plato! i wish he would write that they should be granted to the poor rather than to the rich, to the old rather than to the young, and so of all the other qualities that i and most of us have.
for truly his discourse would be witty and of general utility. iAM so determined to hear you divine postman, that i will not leave you, even if you extend your walk to nahoon beach, and as, aristotle says, go to the wall and back again.
divine postman: what are you saying, my dear socrates?
socrates: all that we learn divine postman has universal implications. what plato wrote in greece will resound in africa.
divine postman: and so knowledge becomes a circle socrates