“Here I know only how to chase away real illnesses in even the deepest recesses of the body or mind. So I can be of no use to you.”
“Please help me,” Kaniürü pleaded. “Whatever you want for your services I will pay”
What’s ailing you? Your heart or mind or both?”
Kaniürü quickly decided that he had no alternative but to fake an illness. But what illness? Then he recalled the video and Tajirika’s account of the malady of words getting stuck in his larynx. Well, nobody holds a monopoly on any illness. If he could take over Tajirika’s seat as chairman of Marching to Heaven, why not also his ailment? Kaniürü now bent his head like one weighed down by grave matters. He raised his head and cleared his throat.
“To tell the truth, talking about my illness is a little embarrassing. The situation is like this. Sometimes, when I think too much about my new wealth, words get stuck in my throat, Wizard of the Crow, and when I try to force them out, out pops If. “
“Only one word?”
“Yes, but it repeats itself many times.”
“And when does this terrible thing come upon you? What triggers it? Do the words get stuck only when you think about your new wealth?”
“Sometimes, but also when I’m not thinking about anything in particular.”
“So, what do you want?”
“First, I need medicine to prevent words from getting stuck in my larynx.”
When did you last have an attack?”
“Oh, this morning. I mean, late this afternoon. That’s why I came here in darkness. Emergency.”
“But now the malady is gone; it’s in remission.”
“I told you. It’s an on-and-off thing. It’s sudden.”
“Is it even worse than usual?”
Kaniürü tried to recall what Tajirika had said in the video but he could not remember all the details. So he just improvised as he went along.
“It normally happens at home in the evenings, after office hours. It is worse when I look at a mirror.”
“What do you see in the mirror?”
“My face.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. My face. I know my face.”
“The reflection of your face: it makes you say If?”
“Yes.”
“So the malady attacks you only when you look at yourself in the mirror?”
“Yes, yes. That’s true. You got it right.”
“Even in the office? I mean, when you look at yourself in the mirror in the office?”
“Everywhere, I tell you,” Kaniürü added, and now he gave his imagination free rein as he tried to elicit maximum sympathy from the Wizard of the Crow. “It’s a terrible malady, Mr. Wizard of the Crow. Wherever there is a mirror I know the malady is lurking behind it. In the toilets of the big hotels and nightclubs. In buses and taxis. It is as if my enemies inflict me with the malady every hour, wherever I may be. Mr. Wizard of the Crow, I am now scared to leave my home.”
Suddenly the Wizard of the Crow did what Kaniürü had not expected. He handed him a mirror.
“Here! Take this. It sees everything,” said the Wizard of the Crow. “Even what is most hidden.”
Kaniürü’s hands were shaking as he took the mirror. Many thoughts whirled through his mind. For a second he thought of faking a seizure and spurting a profusion of ifs, but he got scared. Suppose the mirror can see all my secrets? No, I am not going to look at myself in his mirror, no way. Kaniürü did not even pretend to look at it.
“I am not saying that words get completely stuck,” he said, trying to dig himself out of the hole he had dug. “What I am talking about is more like a whisper, an echo; it is not a distinct sound. The word whispers itself to my brain. Oh, Mr. Wizard of the Crow, whispers in the brain are worse than actual sounds because they impede the flow of thought. I need protective medicine around my property, for this will allay my anxiety, which is obviously the cause of these whispers. I need protection from my enemies, a permanent cure. Here, take the mirror back.”
The Wizard of the Crow did not take back the mirror. He looked long and hard at Kaniürü’s face.
“Is that all you want?” he asked Kaniürü.
“That’s all I want.”
“Then don’t worry yourself to death,” the Wizard of the Crow told Kaniürü. “You are young. You can still turn your life around. What you need is to get rid of those things that trigger anxiety standing in the way of a new self, a different self. They are the enemy”
“Thank you, Mr. Wizard of the Crow. You have read my mind correctly. Get rid of the enemies who stand in my way or at least neutralize their power over me. I believe in you and your medicine.”
“Hold the mirror before you,” the Wizard of the Crow told him. “Hold it firmly. Now look directly at it and don’t let your eyes wander. Concentrate all your thoughts, all your desires, all your needs, into the gaze. If you lie, you are lying to yourself. If you speak the truth, you are speaking the truth to yourself. When you feel yourself ready to receive the magic of curative and protective words, let me know.”
“I am ready. I am ready for the cure and the protection,” Kaniürü said quickly, fearing that the Wizard of the Crow might suddenly change his mind.
“Are you are looking at the mirror directly?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Say after me: Remove from me the enemy of life; the days of thieves and robbers are numbered.”
“Remove from me the enemy of life; the days of thieves and robbers are numbered.”
“I want you to chant that seven times.”
Kaniürü did as he was told and chanted the magic words seven times, his eyes and their reflection gazing at each other, his lips and their reflections mimicking each other seven times.
“Now remove all the wax in your ears and anything else that may block my words,” the Wizard of the Crow pronounced with authority. “Listen to me. Every morning you must stand in front of a mirror, look at it, and say the formula seven times. Do that seven days a week for seven months.”
“Is that all?” Kaniürü asked.
“That’s all,” said the Wizard of the Crow, now taking back his mirror.
“And will that cast a protective spell over my life and property?”
“Yes, if you do it right.”
“What is the fee?”
“There is no charge because I did not dispense any herbs, powder, or liquid. Yours is a malady of riches and property, and the medicine for that resides in the heart. Your soul and all you have will be well if and when you arm yourself against your enemies of the soul with the right words.”
“Words?”
“Yes, words. And actions born of the right words. So take good care of what you say from now on. What poisons a person goes through his mouth. I must never hear that you have repeated to the ears of another what you have seen or heard in the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Say after me: And if I say what I should not say, may the words tell on me.”
“And if I say what I should not say, may the words tell on me.”
6
Kaniürü felt a big load off his mind. His riches were now protected. His monies were beyond the reach of his enemies, whoever and wherever they were. He was so preoccupied with his lightness of being that when the same woman who had earlier received him now gave him a piece of paper, he just took it and put it in his pocket and moved on without a thank-you, a glance, or a word. The only person to whom he felt enormous gratitude was the Wizard of the Crow. The man is a true wizard, Kaniürü kept saying to himself, marveling at how much the witch doctor knew about him and his condition. And that he had not asked for a fee proved his authenticity all the more. The false are always ready to take and the true to give. No less amazing was how the Wizard of the Crow had managed to lull his fears so that, except when he had lied to the wizard about his malady, Kaniürü had felt at peace and talked to the wizard as if they had m
et somewhere else and were just renewing their acquaintance. He quickly dismissed the possibility of a previous encounter and attributed the ease and familiarity of their conversation to the wizard’s divining skills.
That night he hardly slept: his entire body was taut with joy, relief, hope, and self-congratulation on the success of the deception. He had even gotten the better of the Wizard of the Crow, he thought.
But the face of the Wizard of the Crow kept appearing to his mind’s eye. The face danced just so in his mind as to awaken his dormant artistic instincts. At school, his artistic bent was in portraits; his mind had been a storehouse of the different faces he had encountered. He had, however, become disillusioned with art as a means of material accumulation; his memory had lost its clarity and sharpness. Now he turned the face of the Wizard of the Crow over and over again in his imagination. There were moments when he saw the face exactly as he had seen it during the divination. But there were others, particularly in the twilight of sleep and wakefulness, when he saw the face floating above the streets of Eldares, calling unto him: Come, follow me and I shall make you fishers of everything: trees, property, people, men, women. Yes, women particularly…
He recalled the woman who had given him the piece of paper. What was all that about and what was written on it? He felt too lazy to get out of bed and retrieve it from his pocket. But unable to sleep, he slipped out of bed, put on the lights, and read the heading: The Seven Herbs of Grace. This witch doctor was endlessly amazing: hmmm, talking about the care of animals and plants and even insects? How funny! A witch doctor who cares about life all around him? A modern witch doctor, an environmentally conscious witch doctor, he said and yawned, returning to bed.
He dreamt of the Wizard of the Crow and himself chasing each other in some forest. Sometimes it was he, Kaniürü, who was in pursuit of the Wizard of the Crow. At other times it was the Wizard of the Crow who was chasing him, and wherever Kaniürü sought to hide and take breath, a tree would be saying: Look at the mirror in your heart seven times.
He woke up in the morning and went to the mirror in the bathroom and chanted the sorcerer’s incantation seven times, only to have the word seven echo in the corridors of his mind as if it had a life of its own and was asserting itself. The magic must be working. Seven. The Seven Herbs of Grace. The word kept playing tricks on him. Sometimes the word seven found itself in the middle of a sentence: The Herbs of Grace were Seven. Sometimes at the beginning: Seven were the Herbs of Grace. Seven Grace. Grace Seven. Grace Mügwanja. Grace Mügwanjar
Nyawlra’s other names were Grace Mügwanja. Was this possible? He felt paralyzed with disbelief at the thoughts now forming in his mind. Had the Wizard of the Crow been trying to communicate something to him about Nyawlra? That Nyawlra could be found? Seven herbs of Grace. Grace. Seven. Grace Mügwanja. The different faces of the Wizard of the Crow started floating in the air. He was now certain that he had seen that face before. It was the face of the person who had changed himself into a beggar outside the gates of Paradise.
Kaniürü was so disoriented that he had to hold on to the wall of the bathroom in order not to fall. The man was no ordinary sorcerer. He was one of those djinns reputed to wield potent magic. That explains why he knew all about me even though he had never seen me. He even knew the drama in my heart! That’s why he asked me whether a woman was holding my heart captive. He was upset with himself, now recalling his response: that although it was true that he was looking for her, that had not been his mission in coming to the shrine.
The more he thought about that extraordinary exchange, the more it became clear that the Wizard of the Crow had been trying to direct his thinking toward Nyawlra. The man was as much as saying that he knew Nyawlra. Indeed, Kaniürü himself now recalled that he had once seen this man and Nyawlra talking animatedly on the side street next to Tajirika’s office. And according to Tajirika in the video, Nyawlra herself had proposed the visit to the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow. The Wizard of the Crow was offering his help. He should have taken up the offer.
An idea struck him. The Wizard of the Crow could easily find Nyawlra through the powers of the mirror. The more he thought about the astonishing divining power he had witnessed, the clearer it became that the wizard was the only person in Aburlria who could effect Nyawlra’s arrest. The solution stared him in the face. The government needed to enlist the Wizard of the Crow and his mirror to find Nyawlra’s whereabouts.
Kaniürü would kill several birds with one stone. Nyawlra would be captured. The Wizard of the Crow would get a reward for enabling her capture, Kaniürü s gift of gratitude for the Wizard of the Crow’s blessings upon his life and property without charge for his services. Most important, Kaniürü would reap all the benefits arising from the arrest of Nyawlra. He heard a tune forming in his head.
What are you waiting for!
What are you waiting for!
This is the moment
What are you waiting for!
It was then that Kaniürü went to the phone, dialed Sikiokuu, and heard a most welcome response: the minister was quick to send his chauffeur to help Kaniürü through the morning traffic.
7
“Thank you, my brother,” said Sikiokuu as he embraced Kaniürü and welcomed him into the office.
Kaniürü was taken aback by the sheer warmth of the embrace, implying that they were equals. Already he had felt flattered by being the sole passenger in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes-Benz flying a miniature Aburlrian flag. Never had he dreamt that he would one day find himself sitting in the backseat of a vehicle bearing a license plate beginning with CM for cabinet minister. The wizard’s magic was working in ways he had not expected, and for a moment he was lost for words.
“Take a seat, my brother,” Sikiokuu said, showering him with lavish attention. Kaniürü was by now a prince in his own mind, thanks to the magic of the Wizard of the Crow.
But he faced a quandary. The Wizard of the Crow had explicitly warned him against disclosing what he had seen or heard at the shrine. What precisely did the witch doctor mean? That he should never speak about the Wizard of the Crow? Or discuss his medicine? What would happen if he violated his oath to the wizard? Kaniürü was not about to find out at the expense of his own future. No matter how brotherly Sikiokuu was being, Kaniürü was not about to sacrifice his life for his minister.
Besides, Kaniürü feared Sikiokuu’s possible reactions. How was he, Kaniürü, going to explain his visit to the shrine without revealing that he had gone there to seek the very magical protection that Tajirika had talked about in the video? He feared that he might inadvertently disclose the sources of his new wealth, prospective contractors for Marching to Heaven. No. Sikiokuu must be kept in the dark. He might demand a share and even rights of seniority. No, the sources of his new wealth and the bank accounts would remain a secret known only to him and Jane Kanyori. But how was he going to impart information without placing himself at risk vis-ä-vis the Wizard of the Crow or jeopardizing his own interests by letting Minister Sikiokuu know more than he should know?
Once again, memories of the Wizard of the Crow came to his rescue. The wizard had said, Take good care of what you say from now on. What poisons a person goes through his mouth. He knew that in Aburiria the truth could get you in trouble: he must control how much of it issued from his mouth.
It was as if Kaniürü had rehearsed the story, so effortlessly did he now tell how he, after watching Tajirika’s video, had gone to the Wizard of the Crow to verify the truth of Tajirika’s whole story and had pretended to suffer from the same malady of words.
“Brilliant,” exclaimed the minister in admiration of the wiles of his brother Kaniürü.
“You know the most amazing thing about this sorcerer?” continued Kaniürü. “He knew my name, my new employment, everything about me, and he read all these facts in a mirror he held in his hand. Unfortunately, he also knew straightaway that I was lying about my illness.”
“He did?”
> “Yes, and to tell you the truth, I was even more surprised by his reaction. He has time for only those with true illnesses, so he dismissed me from his presence and told me never to be seen there again. So I did not leave there any wiser about Tajirika’s extravagant claims. In fact, I did not see or hear anything useful to repeat. What I am telling you now is, therefore, not what I heard or saw at the shrine but rather what I reasoned in retrospect. You see, once I was back at my place, I started contemplating the enormous powers of this individual, and it immediately occurred to me, like some kind of revelation, that the sorcerer might be the one to deliver Nyawlra to us.”
“This Wizard of the Crow seems to be the object of obsession of every Tom, Dick, and Harry,” Sikiokuu commented, a little disappointed. “But I hardly knew that he was a detective to boot,” he added sarcastically.
“Believe me, Mr. Minister, from my brief encounter with him, I can claim that he is every inch a seer. The eye of his mirror sees far and deep,” Kaniürü waxed poetic, only to stop himself upon recalling the sorcerer’s solemn warning. “I regret lying about my illness, for if I had not done so, I would have found out much more. As to what I saw and heard, I have forgotten the details and so cannot repeat them. But my exposure to him convinces me that the Wizard of the Crow is the way to go.”
Sikiokuu kept quiet for a while as he turned over in his mind what Kaniürü had just said. Up to now Kaniürü was the only person who had managed to come up with information that yielded any success in the State’s attempts to crack down on the Movement for the Voice of the People. He had helped to flush Nyawlra out. He had come up with the pictures of Nyawlra as a young unmarried woman and some as the wife of Kaniürü: these were the only photos of the woman that the police had. He had helped trap Tajirika and had been instrumental in securing the pictures of Vinjinia and the dancing women. How, then, could Sikiokuu dismiss outright Kaniürü’s idea, however crazy it sounded? After all, the Buler had told him that he must leave no stone unturned in the hunt for Nyawlra.
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