Wizard of the Crow

by Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong

  “First, we want you to know that we do not believe in magic and divination,” Mariko said bluntly.

  “What do you want from me?” the Wizard of the Crow asked, puzzled, though he took pains not to show it.

  “To send you back to Satan,” Maritha said.

  “Satan?” the Wizard of the Crow asked. “Even if I knew how or where to find him, what would I tell him?”

  “That we do not believe in adultery,” Maritha added.

  “That though he makes our bodies yearn for others…” Mariko said.

  “And we are now advanced in age…” chimed in Maritha.

  “And we have given birth to our last…” Mariko added.

  “We shall never give in to temptation,” they said in unison.

  “What does the body, a progeny of Adam and Eve, really want?” Mariko said, almost as if he were now posing the questions to himself. “Is this not the work of the Devil, now, today, as it was in the beginning? When we look at other people our bodies are on fire with desire, but when we return home our bodies become as cold as ashes. It appears that the children were singing about us…”-and here, Maritha joined in the children’s rhyme:

  What belongs to another

  Whets your tongue

  What belongs to you

  Dries up your tongue

  For a few seconds they acted as if they were in a childhood world of their own, singing to each other; the Wizard of the Crow had to cough a little to remind them that he was still there, behind the lattice.

  Maritha and Mariko were taken aback to find that they had been singing and actually enjoying songs they last sang when they were children, and they now looked at the face of the Wizard of the Crow, a little embarrassed that he had caught them in a foolish act. To cover their embarrassment they listened to him intently, and it took them time to realize that instead of doing the questioning they were now answering without defiance.

  “Do you sleep in the same bed?”

  “Oh, yes, we are not so rich as to afford the luxury of sleeping in two different beds,” Maritha said.

  “But we are not complaining,” Mariko hastened to say.

  “We sing to our Lord and Master in gratitude for being alive,” Maritha said, and once again they both began to sing:

  Count your blessings one by one

  See what the Lord has done for you

  The Wizard of the Crow made them stop with his second question.

  “What is the last thing you do before you fall asleep?”

  “We thank the Lord for looking after us and our children the whole day without harm coming our way. Is that not reason enough to make us say thank you to our maker?” Mariko said.

  “And especially these days, when there are so many killings in the country,” Maritha added.

  “Nobody is safe, even inside their own houses,” Mariko said.

  “That’s why our very last words are to ask the Lord to look after us in our sleep,” Maritha said.

  “And to protect us from the wiles of Satan!” they both said.

  “So what do you want?” the Wizard of the Crow asked softly, out of curiosity as to what more they could possibly want out of life.

  “We want that which heals the body” Mariko said.

  “What heals the heart we leave to God,” Maritha said.

  The Wizard of the Crow looked at their faces and instead of feeling pity for the couple he felt something like envy. These two were so deeply in love that even their thoughts came out clothed in identical words and phrases. He felt like calling out to Nyawlra to come and see this image of mature love, a model for them in the future. But quickly he dismissed the temptation and forced himself to resume the task at hand.

  “Since you do not believe in magic and divination, old or modern, I don’t really know how I can help you,” the Wizard of the Crow said. “A person cannot get cured by word or deed unless he or she believes in the power of that word and deed. Now, our people say that good advice springs from frank words, and when it comes to curing an illness, taboos should not be in the way. So I am going to ask you one more question. When you go to bed, who unclothes the other?”

  They became shy with each other, a little embarrassed by the question and thoughts of being naked in each other’s presence.

  “Doctor, can’t you see that we are too old for that kind of foolishness?” they said in unison, not realizing that they had thought of him as a doctor rather than a sorcerer.

  “So you have never carefully examined each other’s bodies to see if there is any blemish, scar, growth, or anything?”

  “No!” they said frankly, wondering why they had not done so, the better to account for the hot and cold behavior of their bodies.

  “Now, I have no magic potions to give you,” the Wizard of the Crow told them, unmistakably frank. “I have no magic incantations; just continue in the path you have been walking. But look to how you walk. Have you ever danced, because those who…”

  “Oh, we used to dance all right when we were young,” they both protested, as if the Wizard of the Crow had slighted them.

  “We would swing each other around till all the others stopped to stare at us,” said Mariko.

  “So it is your generation who sang, Dancing is a matter of two steps and a turn’’?” the Wizard of the Crow asked.

  “Yes, but these days we dance only the dance of Christ, our Savior,” Maritha said.

  “Two steps and a turn to Jesus,” added Mariko.

  “Keep dancing to your faith,” said the Wizard of the Crow, in his divination mode, “and if your faith allows you, you may want to try this. When you get back home, see if there is any oil in the house. Castor oil is the best. But first, tell me, in your home, who cooks?” he asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

  “Are you truly a black man, doctor?” asked Mariko quickly, as if insulted by the question. “When we become Christian we don’t give up each and every one of our traditions. Cooking has always been a woman’s job,” he said, but this time Maritha did not add a yes or a no to Mariko s words.

  “Is there anything in the Bible that says a man must not cook?” the Wizard of the Crow asked.

  “No, no,” Maritha said.

  “It is just a custom,” Mariko explained.

  “Then that is one custom that you may want to change, as it does not offend your faith.” The Wizard of the Crow addressed Mariko. “One of these days, you should make her a delicious dish so that she may know how your cooking tastes. A little surprise. Then get a candle, light it, put it on the dining table, and dim all the other lights or even switch them off. Talk, tell stories, or eat in silence. The important thing is for you to eat together in soft light. Then warm some water. Undress each other. Wash each other. Then take turns rubbing oil onto each other; no spot, no scar, should be left untouched. Is it not you, Christians, who say that the body is the temple of the Lordr Take your time. The night will be yours. If you find blemishes on your bodies, go see a doctor or come back to the shrine for the right herbs.”

  They left clutching their Bible and cross, happy and relieved that the Wizard of the Crow had not engaged them in any magical rites involving dry bones, beads, and cowry shells, as they had heard that sorcerers and witch doctors were given to do. Perhaps their Bible and cross had warded off his intent. They were glad that they had brought their sacred icons with them. They went back to their home, engaging in small talk about what they had seen and heard for themselves at the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow, and still marveling at the power of their Bedeemer, who had tamed the sorcerer, making him meek and mild.

  “There was no evil in his eyes,” Maritha said.

  “There was no evil in his voice,” Mariko added.

  “What he told us is something that we ourselves should have thought about,” Maritha said.

  “Yes, he spoke the truth,” Mariko said. “Our ancestors used to say that one cannot see the back of one’s head.”

  Rumor has it
that when they reached home they did not bother with the preliminaries, so consumed were they with curiosity about the scars they might find on each other’s body. They locked the door from inside and went to their bedroom. Theirs was a gentle and tender search that produced endless sighs and hisses, and it seemed a miracle that at their age their bodies could grow such strong wings of glory yet so light.

  From that day, Maritha and Mariko went everywhere hand in hand, their eyes full of light, their bodies exuding youth, their confident gait compelling passersby to stop dead in their tracks with unanswered questions.

  4

  So when it was announced that on a certain Sunday Maritha and Mariko would be making new revelations about their war with Satan, the regular and occasional worshippers now found their way to All Saints Cathedral. Among them were the Soldiers of Christ with their candles still lit, and Bishop Kanogori had to ask the sect to please stay outside in the yard and keep watch for Satan, who hates being exposed and might come to disrupt the proceedings, he explained to soften the obvious disappointment on their faces.

  The place was jammed with the curious. What would their latest struggle with Satan entail? Would Maritha and Mariko finally reveal the identities of the people used by Satan to play havoc with their flesh?

  As for those who had seen them recently in a new light, they joined the congregation in the hope of learning the secret of their rediscovered youth.

  As it turned out, Maritha and Mariko did not offer any startling or scandalous news. Their bodies no longer yearned for those of others. They were now at peace with their union blessed by God though recently threatened by Satan. Life was hope, and they were very grateful to all the brothers and sisters in Christ who, through prayer and their presence at the Sunday confessions, had helped keep that hope alive, and how could they ever forget the Soldiers of Christ, who had kept their vigil every night so the light could overcome the darkness of Satan? You shared in our grief, now share in our victory:

  I will knock Satan down

  I will knock Satan down

  I will tell him

  Leave me alone, Satan

  I don’t belong to daemons

  Maritha and Mariko sang and danced with such joyous abandon that they infused the entire congregation with energy. Even those who at first felt cheated of a more titillating climax now joined in the celebration.

  I will fly above the earth

  I will float in the sky

  As I behold our Lord do wonders

  Never seen on earth before

  But the group who gained most from the drama of victory was the sect of the Soldiers of Christ, whose fame started growing beyond the boundaries of Eldares. Their vigilance had driven Satan from San-talucia, and Maritha and Mariko’s confessions of victory over Satan were both evidence and vindication of the sect’s earliest claims that they had once encountered Satan face-to-face or, more accurately, face-to-back in the streets of Eldares. Satan had been driven away from Santalucia, but in case he thought of coming back, he should know that the Soldiers of Christ would stand their vigil with lighted lanterns.

  Sweeper-of-Souls, one of the three garbage collectors to whom Satan had once revealed himself, now rose a few ranks in the sect of the brave.

  5

  As they had found no blemish on their God-given bodies, their scars having turned into stars, Maritha and Mariko did not return to the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow for a cure. Neither did they see the need to convert the Wizard of the Crow to Christianity. The whole experience had taught them that there were things on earth that defied understanding and it was better to let them be. God indeed works in mysterious ways to perform His wonders, and who were they to question God’s mysteries?

  Yes! Like the mystery of the young woman with a kanga wrap around her head and shoulders who one evening appeared at their doorstep unannounced to claim that she had come to convey the best wishes of the Wizard of the Crow and make sure that the couple was well. She followed this initial visit with others. Most times she seemed hurried and would not stay for long. But there were times she would hang around and engage them in conversation. Now she did not pretend that she was merely passing by as a well-wisher for anyone else; she did not even mention the Wizard of the Crow. She came, she said, to glean wisdom from their experience. She never pried into their private lives. They never asked her where she came from or where she went. For them her coming and going was an act of God.

  They liked the kanga lady. They liked her words. They enjoyed the peace that followed their victory over Satan.

  However, and despite the near unanimous agreement that theirs was a great victory, there were a few skeptics who scrutinized each and every thing, comparing and contrasting this and that, picking holes here and there, and they would shake their heads and say: Hmmm, isn’t it rather strange that the victory of Maritha and Mariko over Satan came only a few months after the return of the Wizard of the Crow? Still, nobody had heard the couple say anything about the Wizard of the Crow, and nobody claimed any longer to have seen them anywhere near the shrine before or after the victory.

  Except once. But that was several years later, and even then it was not Maritha and Mariko who were seen near the shrine but rather the Wizard of the Crow who was seen near their house, running for dear life, hounded by the Ruler’s police, and it was on recalling this dastardly hunt for a human being that people would pause and say: Do you see? There are elements of truth in the rumors we used to hear. Why else would the Wizard of the Crow have chosen to bypass all the other homes to seek help from Maritha and Mariko when it was clear by then that all in Santalucia would have felt honored to help him escape the bloodhounds led by Kaniürü?

  6

  The name John Kaniürü started attracting attention in the country from the day a radio announcement said that he had been appointed deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven. Kaniürü, who? People asked. What a name, others commented. Kaniürü sent the press several pictures of himself, but controversy erupted when two people initially claimed the name. Both won. Both retained the name. Your works alone will tell who really owns the name, the judge told them. Unable to decide whose picture to carry, the newspapers ended up with a pictureless story.

  A few weeks later people heard, again through the radio, that Kaniürü had been asked to serve as the chairman of the Commission of Inquiry into the Queuing Mania. The same Kaniürü? people would ask. Once again Kaniürü sent several photos of himself in different poses and sizes, but the newspapers once again carried the story without an accompanying picture. Kaniürü was so angry that he personally telephoned the various editors: why had they not used any of his pictures? They owed him no explanation, they told him. Kaniürü was bitter, he saw these editors as his enemies, and he felt frustrated because there was nothing he could do about what he then saw as a vast conspiracy of envy.

  He quit his job as a teacher at Eldares Polytechnic, dismissing the teaching profession as pure misery. Then he bought a new MercedesBenz, paid for it in cash, and engaged a uniformed chauffeur. The dramatic change in his lifestyle following the dual appointment confirmed people’s suspicions of his role in the Nyawlra affair, especially after they learned that she had once been his wife.

  To impress the university professors who had worked with him as youthwingers but denigrated him as merely a lecturer at the Polytechnic, Kaniürü would spring on them at their homes or offices, telling them that he was only passing by, that he would not stay long, but as he left he made a point of asking if there was anybody who wanted a lift to town, assuring them that there was ample room in his Mercedes-Benz, one of the latest models. Knowing the power he now wielded, they would look at him with envious admiration, call him Big Man, and ask him where they might meet up with him again to renew their friendship and bring him a little token. We teachers should stick together, they would tell him. I am not a teacher, he corrected them, and they would quickly apologize for their gaff. He enjoyed these moments when those who used to think t
hat they were more important than he groveled before him to buy favors.

  An idea struck him. Why not take his enjoyment to a higher level? Why not pay a visit to Nyawlra’s father, Matthew Wangahü, the man who thought he, Kaniürü, was too poor for the hand of his daughter? Maybe Nyawlra was hiding there. Why not kill two birds with one stoner

  “On to Wangahü’s,” he said, stroking his Mercedes, talking to it as if it were a horse.

  7

  When Wangahü saw a sleek automobile stop outside his house with what he took to be a cabinet minister inside, he rushed to meet him. The chauffeur came out and opened the back door and saluted. Wangahü almost collapsed when he saw Kaniürü emerge, but, well schooled in decorum, he did not display undue surprise. He invited his visitor into the living room and called out for his wife, Boithi, to come and greet him. And remember that one does not ask a hungry person for news, he told her after she had rubbed her hands in her apron and shook the visitor’s. She returned to the kitchen and ordered the house help to prepare a chicken dish.

  “Congratulations on your recent appointments,” Wangahü told Kaniürü. “Our people say that hard work always pays. I was even thinking of coming to see you in your new role as the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven, but you have beaten me to it, and I am glad. Just because you and Nyawlra don’t get on does not mean you and I shouldn’t. You are an in-law, and in this house you will always be treated like an in-law. Now, what I was thinking is simple and straightforward. If and when the Global Bank releases funds for Marching to Heaven, you and I should put our heads together on a contract to supply timber. You and I can become partners. A kind of father and son partnership, eh? What do you think of that?”