Wizard of the Crow

by Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong'o

  We desire peace, unity, and progress

  A good leader is the one who can bring about the three

  I will sing what I sang for the one who was there before

  I will sing the same song for the one who is there today

  I will sing the same song for the one who will come after

  When I fought against the colonialists

  I thought that freedom would mean a cow to nourish me with milk

  Yesterday I had nothing to eat

  Today is the same

  Who has ears to hear the people!

  Sikiokuu was moved by the song, presuming that the ladies were appealing to him, in coded language, eventually to become leader of the land. He clapped enthusiastically, as if suggesting that he understood their call. Kaniürü did not like what he heard being sung, but now that Sikiokuu had calmed the situation he managed a laugh. Journalists who had been expecting a bang got only a whimper and felt disappointed at being cheated of a good story.

  Vinjinia, the only one among the dignitaries who knew why everything had ended the way it did was inwardly amazed at yet another revelation of the powers of the Wizard of the Crow. He had done what lawyers, journalists, and all her friends had failed to do: make the government acknowledge that it was holding Tajirika. But who are these women dancers? She had never seen them before. Could it be that the Wizard of the Crow had transformed himself into several female selves?

  What Kaniürü, Sikiokuu, and even Vinjinia did not know was that it was Nyawlra who had been leading the women in song and dance.

  16

  When Nyawlra had finished recounting to Kamltl the whole story of what had happened at the shrine during his visit to Klambugi, he shook his head in disbelief and mumbled disapprovingly: “That was dangerously reckless.”

  They were in their usual Chinese restaurant, Chou Chinese Gourmet, a happy medium between the high-class and the run-down restaurants, both extremes often the haunts of police intelligence.

  “You are the one who once told me that the best hiding place is always out in the open, where one is least expected.”

  “Yes, but this was like deliberately walking into danger. Face-to-face with John Kaniürü, someone who knows you so well? And not once but twice?”

  The waiter brought the bill together with two fortune cookies. Nyawlra paid the bill and reached out for one of the fortune cookies. Kamrö took the other. They broke the cookies almost at the same time and pulled out the pieces of paper on which the fortunes were written.

  “What does yours say?” Kamrö asked.

  “No, tell me what yours says.”

  They started arguing playfully about who should tell first, then suddenly snatched each other’s fortune and read it. Both were identical: Expect amazing things. They laughed.

  “Okay Finish Vinjinia’s story. Amaze me more. Maybe it contains the amazing things foretold in these fortune cookies.”

  “Don’t look so scared,” Nyawlra said, trying to calm Kamrö. “There is no way Kaniürü would have found me out. Our first encounter was at twilight. I wore a kanga on my head and a nose ring. At our next I was in traditional attire in a crowd of women similarly dressed. I felt as if I were back in college, where once on the stage, in the zone, acting a role, I could fool just about anybody, even my closest friends.”

  “There is no way you could fool me!” Kamltl asserted.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Nyawlra said, and she excused herself to go to the ladies’room.

  Left alone, Kamltl started turning over in his mind what they had been talking about. He was happy that they were together again, and their easy conversation had helped lift the weight he had felt since hearing about the death of Margaret Wariara and learning of the havoc that the strange virus was wreaking on his ancestral village. He had once contrasted rural tranquility and urban anxiety. Things were more complex now. His sorrow was mixed with contempt for the likes of Matthew Wangahü and Kaniürü. Nyawlra had shown astonishing generosity and strength of character as well as self-sacrifice in her dramatic efforts on Vinjinia’s behalf. He felt lucky to have her as his companion; she had bestowed on him a vision of the world. As he contemplated the assurances and possibilities of their relationship, he soon lost awareness of his surroundings and was awakened from the dreamworld only by her footsteps.

  She saw his startled look and mistook it for continued anxiety over the danger she had exposed herself to in his two-week absence. She sought to reassure him:

  “Listen, I would be less than candid if I didn’t tell you that as I stood there face-to-face with Kaniürü I felt like removing all my disguises to show him that I was still alive and well, or simply cutting off his nose with a knife. But I desisted from anything foolish that would jeopardize all that I stood for. Besides, I really felt for Vinjinia. I have never forgotten that she herself was once arrested instead of me. But pride also drove me to help her: I would never want it said that a person came to the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow and was sent away with needs not met. I am happy that Vinjinia can now sleep in peace knowing what she now knows.”

  “What?”

  “The silence of the State over a person they have arrested is often a sentence of death. Tajirika was a corpse. We brought him back from the dead.”

  17

  Even Tajirika thought that he would soon be a corpse. After arresting him they had blindfolded him before throwing him into a dark chamber. A tiny light above from a source he could not see was his only companion. The wardens brought him food and water in darkness and, like his captors, answered none of his questions. Day and night, amid painful silence, he was taut with anxiety. The thought that he might lose all his property was unbearable. There was nothing he would not have done to save his property, even if he had to prostrate himself before those responsible for his incarceration. But who were they?

  He was struck by one suspicion after another. Had his wife, Vin-jinia, lied about him while in custody in exchange for her freedom? Or had Nyawlra been arrested and implicated him in her crimes?

  He was desperate to face his captors in order to counter any lies told about him and show his readiness to repent whatever omission or commission he was accused of.

  Sikiokuu had assumed as much. He knew that Tajirika’s present state of mind would result in all manner of unsolicited confessions. The wretched fellow was prepared to be even more at Sikiokuu’s mercy. Sikiokuu could then toy with various options.

  Vinjinia’s intervention before the press, entirely unexpected, scuttled those plans, compelling Sikiokuu to extract as much information from Tajirika as he could before news of his arrest reached the Ruler in America. He ordered his people to start interrogations immediately.

  They moved Tajirika from the dark chamber into an interrogation room and threw him into a chair. Nearly blinded by light, he blinked uncontrollably; at first he could not make out anything distinctly. Soon he understood that he was seated at a table in the middle of a room and that opposite him sat a man in a dark suit. For Tajirika this marked a big improvement on the dark chamber of his present captivity, but, pricked by humiliation, he breathed heavily with barely suppressed anger.

  “Don’t be afraid. I am from the police,” the man said, and put his arm across the table to shake hands with Tajirika. “Call me Assistant Superintendent Njoya, Elijah Njoya.”

  Tajirika ignored the hand.

  “Do you know who I am?” Tajirika asked angrily, having forgotten his vow to himself to plead for mercy on bended knee.

  “Of course, Mr. Tajirika. Who in all Aburlria can say he does not know of you?” Njoya said smoothly and matter-of-factly, annoying Tajirika even more by his seeming indifference at the outrage done to the chairman of Marching to Heaven. At the same time, Tajirika was flattered to hear that he was well known throughout the country.

  “Why am I in police custody?” Tajirika demanded.

  “In custody?” Njoya asked in a puzzled tone. “I am sorry, but there must be a misunderstandi
ng,” he added in English.

  “There is no misunderstanding. You apprehended me in Golden Heights, in my house, in front of my wife and servants.”

  “When was that?”

  “Are you trying to tell me you know nothing about this?”

  “I learned of your being here only last night. So I presumed you must have arrived yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? You should be talking of months instead of days. And I didn’t arrive’ here. I was thrown into the back of a Land Rover like a bundle of wood or a block of stone and dragged to this hellhole.”

  “I am so sorry, Mr. Tajirika,” Njoya said, and indeed he spoke in a seemingly sincere tone, with the proper mix of fear, humility, and respect vis-ä-vis someone of Tajirika’s stature. “Mr. Tajirika, I am definitely going to look into this. You, as an employer, should know about subordinates. You might tell them to bring just one item and they bring ten instead. In fact, had it not been for your wife …”

  “What about my wife?” Tajirika growled.

  “Well, I believe she is the one who called late last night to alert the police that you were missing, and she wondered if you were here at the station.”

  “You mean, she let all this time pass without alerting the police? Suppose those who abducted me had been thugs? I would have been a corpse feasted upon by worms.”

  “Please don’t blame your wife. Maybe she did not know where or how to start. You know how it is with rural women …”

  “My wife is not rural. She is very highly educated. She has a school certificate.”

  “Excuse me. I am sorry. Whatever the case, she did a smart thing in letting those in authority know about the situation, and that is why I myself came to see you instead of sending a junior officer. By the way, as to your wife, please call her on the phone and assure her that you are in the hands of the government and that she should not worry unduly.”

  Like a master conjurer, the officer produced a mobile phone from his pocket and handed it over to Tajirika. Holding the thing, Tajirika felt as if a bit of the life he had known had come back to him. He punched the numbers with firm authority and leaned back as he would have in his own office. Superintendent Njoya tiptoed out of the room as if out of respect for Tajirika’s privacy. Tajirika did not speak much because he was annoyed with Vinjinia for her tardiness in reaching out to the authorities. He told her, almost as if bragging, that he was in the hands of the government and she should not worry about him, that her duty was simply to look after their home and the business. He ended the call without asking her about either herself or the children and without giving her a chance to respond. Njoya now returned to the cell followed by another person who pushed a trolley with a plateful of hot chicken and rice.

  Tajirika ate ravenously: it was the first tasty meal he had eaten in many a day. The aroma of good coffee capped his enjoyment, and as he belched with satisfaction he started thinking that maybe this Njoya was not such a bad person after all and that he might even turn out to be a friend of the policemen that Tajirika used to treat with Christmas gifts at the Santamaria post. Yes, he must be a friend of my friend Wonderful Tumbo. Or maybe a friend of a friend of his own friend Machokali.

  “Thank you,” he told Njoya sincerely.

  “You are most welcome,” Njoya said. “Now, Mr. Tajirika, I am sure you want to know why we asked you to come here. We just want you to help us clear up a few things, and then you will be a free man.”

  “So you admit that I am not free}”

  “It is just a manner of speaking. But let me advise you as a friend. It’s only an infant who does not understand the implications of things. You are clearly not an infant, and you do not appear to me to be a thickheaded fellow. Every person of means has enemies. You are no exception, Mr. Tajirika. There is no better way of defeating one’s enemies than by unburdening oneself. Your responses and manner are very important. Let out whatever troubles you. That is my honest advice.”

  “Ask, for no person was ever taken to court for asking a question. I have nothing to hide or cover up. I have always sung the praises of the Ruler.”

  “That is the spirit. But as you well know, there are some who sing praises to the Ruler all day and plot against him all night. So tell me this. Why didn’t you obey the summons to appear before the Commission of Inquiry into the Queuing Mania, as the commission was set up by the Ruler?”

  That was not the kind of question Tajirika was expecting. He was about to say, You mean the commission chaired by my deputy? But he held back so as not to fall into the trap of appearing to split hairs when it came to the wisdom of the Ruler.

  “I was ready, but things came up and I overlooked the day and time. Such a person as I needs to be given enough notice so that I may organize my affairs accordingly. We businessmen have a saying: time is money.”

  “Like the English, eh?”

  Flattered by the presumed similarity, Tajirika was about to say yes but recalled his recent illness when words had remained stuck in his throat, the source of the malady being his aching to be white. He shook his head from side to side.

  “Well, please tell us about the queuing mania,” Njoya continued.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. There is not much that could have escaped your notice.”

  “You have spoken.”

  “The queuing started at your place?”

  “You have spoken.”

  “What?” Elijah Njoya asked, a little irritated by the “you have spoken” business.

  “I don’t know about all the queues, but I do know that one of the queues started outside my office the day Minister Machokali announced that I had been appointed the chairman of Marching to

  Heaven. It was a short one, and the people dispersed after I had dealt with their needs, but even so I could see signs of bigger queues to come. You see, many businesspeople, on hearing about my elevation, started phoning me immediately; many came to my office to congratulate me and to introduce themselves. They so crowded in the reception area that my secretary had to ask them to form a queue to ensure more efficient service on a first come, first served basis.”

  “A very good principle indeed. What did they want?”

  “They’d heard that the Global Bank was about to release funds for Marching to Heaven. They wanted to make my acquaintance before the construction started so that later I would recall their faces when it came to awarding contracts for the completion of the project.”

  “What about the workers, the job seekers, the wretched … whatever we may call them. What about them? Did they also hope to secure lucrative contracts?”

  “I don’t know much about that because on the day when my appointment as chairman of Marching to Heaven was announced, they were nowhere in sight. But just before we called it a day, my secretary came up with the idea of engaging temporary staff to deal with the volume of calls and the number of businessmen visiting in person. All that—attending to the telephone, receiving distinguished visitors, keeping meticulous records—could not be handled by one person. I thought it a good idea. So I authorized her to plant a billboard inviting applications. The new signpost would replace the old one that said No Vacancy.”

  “And who is your secretary?”

  “Oh, please don’t remind me of her—she is evil,” Tajirika said furiously.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Nyawlra.”

  “The terrorist?”

  “The same.”

  “Was she the one calling the shots in your firm? Or did she terrorize you until your head spun and you said yes to whatever she wanted?”

  “No, in those days she appeared to be a good person and quite mature in her thoughts and in the way she carried out her tasks.”

  “And physically? Was she also good-looking?”

  “She was very beautiful, it is true.”

  “Outstandingly beautiful?”

  “Beauty itself.”

  “The kind of beauty that makes all other b
eauties pale in comparison?”

  “Oh, you should have seen her. Those cheeks. Those breasts. The way she walked. And those clothes that seemed as if the Creator Himself had outfitted her!”

  “It seems that even today your mouth waters at the very thought of her.”

  “My mouth is watering from bitterness, not love.”

  “So there was a time it used to water with desire for her? Let me be direct, or shall I ask directly: was there something between you and her?”

  “Our relationship never came to that,” Tajirika said, slightly agitated by the tone and tenor of Njoya’s line of questioning.

  “You mean you never wanted to become acquainted with what was between her thighs? Why? Are you one of those Jesus is my personal savior’ employers?”

  “Me?” Tajirika asked, reacting to what he saw as a challenge to his masculinity. He even laughed. “I have shown many a woman a thing or two. But Nyawlra was a little intimidating. Not that she spoke aggressively. How can I put it? It seemed as if her eyes could see straight into a person’s heart. Those eyes and the way she carried herself could make even the most lustful of males go limp. Perhaps if she had stayed longer I might … a real man never takes no for an answer, and when it comes to women my motto is Never Give Up.”

  “So you lusted after her? Were you in love, perhaps?”

  “That’s not exactly what I am trying to say, but …”

  “I know, I know,” Njoya hastened to add. “As a man I know that once a man’s heart has become captive to a woman, there is nothing he would not do for her. I understand you completely, Mr. Tajirika.”

  “But I have just told you. Nyawlra was like a firebrand without a handle.”

  “So I understand you to be saying or trying to say that you longed for the firebrand but it had no handle.”

  “No, no, it is not how you are putting it. But let me tell you, if today, this very day and hour, I were to hold that woman in these arms, I would wring her neck until she was dead. She is a traitor,” Tajirika declared with venom.