African Andaras - The Search Begins

There are moments in life that feel less like decisions and more like remembering.

The first time I understood that African Andaras existed — that somewhere on that vast continent, in remote mining country far from anywhere, there were pieces waiting — something in me went quiet and still. Not surprised. More like: of course.

My husband had been travelling across Africa for years through his business. He knew people. He knew terrain. He had contacts in places most people will never visit. What none of us knew yet was that those connections were about to become the thread that led us somewhere we had apparently always been heading.

The psychic reading

Years before any of this became real, a psychic had told me something I hadn’t known what to do with at the time.

She said I would be involved in exporting very special altar pieces. That they would come from a remote area. That they would be sought after by collectors around the world.

It had seemed far-fetched. I filed it away.

When the possibility of African Andaras first surfaced — when my husband mentioned, almost in passing, that his contacts might know something about unusual coloured pieces being found deep in the mining regions — I stopped. I felt that reading come back to me with complete clarity.

This is what she meant.

We didn’t rush toward it. We let it sit, knowing that if this was genuinely the path, the guidance would become unmistakable.

It did.

Learning the language of Andaras

In the meantime, we were deep in our own Andara education.

We researched for hours. We purchased pieces we were inexplicably drawn to — ones we recognised instantly without being able to explain why. Some arrived and immediately felt complete. Others took longer. There were pieces I received and couldn’t quite reach, only to find the key to understanding them days later from an entirely different source.

It became almost ordinary to be woken in the middle of the night with a pull to search a particular website, or follow a particular thread. Each step revealed the next. A piece found in one country pointed us toward another country entirely. A giant, strange, cosmic puzzle — and we were somewhere in the middle of it, learning as we went.

I came to understand that what we were doing required something I hadn’t quite anticipated: a balance of the physical, the emotional, the spiritual and the mental, all at once. This was not simply a sourcing mission. It was something we had agreed to, long before this lifetime, at a level neither of us could fully articulate.

The African Andara arrives

Before we had even set foot on the path toward the mines, one came to me.

I had called her, apparently — though I hadn’t done so consciously. She arrived, and when she did, everything I thought I understood about African Andaras expanded. She was different. Not better than what I already knew and loved, but distinctly, unmistakably different. Ancient in a way that felt cellular. Patient in a way that felt almost incomprehensible.

She had been waiting. They all had. Not just for us — for the right moment. For the world to be ready to receive what they carried.

There was no longer any question in my mind. This was real, this was ours to do, and the time was close.

The groundwork my husband had been quietly laying through his African business contacts was converging with everything that was happening at an energetic level. Two worlds — the practical and the spiritual — were moving toward the same point.

The search was about to begin in earnest.

See African Adventures Part 2 here→ [African Adventure, Part 2 — To the Mines]