He did not know where or how to begin, Sikiokuu said, for he had much to report, and although he had not yet broken the back of the Movement for the Voice of the People completely, he had planted undercover agents in virtually every sector of society and had managed to harass the illegal movement into inactivity. Most important, he had been able to unearth and identify the brains behind all the evil in the land. He paused to see the effect of his revelations. The Ruler raised his eyebrows and asked: Who? Sikiokuu’s face tightened and his cheeks became puffed up with barely suppressed anger.
“How can I say when I hate the very thought of my tongue having to repeat his name?”
“Who is he?” the Ruler asked, raising his voice with impatience, which is exactly what Sikiokuu had wanted, to seem as if he were simply acceding to the Ruler’s command.
“The Minister for Foreign Affairs,” he said, lowering his voice in sadness at this obvious betrayal of trust.
“Machokali?”
“He of the very name you have just mentioned,” Sikiokuu said, once again showing the greatest reluctance to say the name.
“Machokali?” the Ruler asked again.
“Yes.”
Silence. Sikiokuu stole a quick glance to see what the Ruler was thinking, but the only thing he noticed on the otherwise immobile face was a twitch, one of those involuntary reactions to fear of pain, and that twitch, together with the next question, How do you know? prompted Sikiokuu not to respond with words but to open his briefcase and take out two voluminous typescripts, “The Kaniürü Report on the Origins of the Queuing Mania and Its Possible Connection with Anti-government Activities” and “A Secret Report on Acts of Treason.” He dramatically placed them on the table, his cheeks still puffed with anger at the presumed traitor.
“Everything is in there,” he said, pointing at the two volumes, “and it might be a good idea for me to go away and let you read them for yourself,” he added, knowing that the Ruler had not much patience with lengthy written reports and would no doubt ask him for a summary. Sikiokuu was therefore surprised when the Ruler stretched out an arm to receive the two volumes, and the minister nearly tripped over himself as he rushed to hand them over. The Ruler took one, leafed through it, put it down, and did the same with the other.
“Are you sure that all your allegations are true?” said the Ruler.
“I swear before you, the Almighty on Earth, and to the One in
Heaven that the people who compiled these two reports are absolutely loyal and trustworthy,” said Sikiokuu, pulling his right earlobe in confirmation before adding, “Even a bank could entrust them its keys.”
“Who are they?”
“John Kaniürü, deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven and chairman of the Ruler’s Commission of Inquiry into the Queuing Mania. The second volume is by Elijah Njoya and Peter Kahiga, both first-rate intelligence officers.”
“Would you repeat these charges in the presence of the accused?” asked the Ruler, fixing his eyes on Sikiokuu.
“I am not afraid of traitors,” Sikiokuu said, this time pulling both earlobes.
The Ruler sent for Machokali.
“And do you understand that I don’t want Machokali to know of the existence of these reports?”
“I understand, Your Mighty Excellency. Top secret. They’re between you and me.”
“Give me a brief summary of the main findings of the reports before the traitor arrives.”
Sikiokuu would have preferred not to have a personal confrontation with Machokali but eagerly took advantage of the invitation to fill the Ruler’s ears with poison to ensure that the Ruler viewed everything through Sikiokuu’s eyes.
“The bug that bites one’s back is carried in what one wears,” the Ruler said, greeting Machokali with barely hidden sarcasm. “Have you ever heard of that proverb?”
“Oh, yes. It is a well-known Swahili proverb. Kikulacho kimo nguoni tnwako.”
“And do you know why the Waswahili coined it?”
“Well…” Machokali said and paused, not quite knowing where the Ruler was going with the question.
“Sit on that chair and face your mate,” the Ruler told him. “That way you will soon learn the proverb’s true meaning. And you, Sikiokuu, say what you have to say about Machokali to his face, just to teach you all that I don’t rely solely on what is spoken behind a person’s back.”
Sikiokuu now told the story of treason as culled from Tajirika’s confession, but without once mentioning the source, and accused his rival of being behind the recent queuing mania and planning to create an intelligence network reporting to him directly.
“This plot was hatched at a secret meeting at the Mars Cafe just before Machokali accompanied you to America,” he finished.
At first Machokali hoped that the Ruler would see through the patent fabrication and dismiss it as mere nonsense, but when his eyes met those of the Ruler, awash in bitterness, he simply fell on his knees and began swearing to God in Heaven that he had no connection whatsoever to the queuing mania. He had never dreamt of taking power by any means. The allegation of a rival intelligence network issued from Sikiokuu’s envy and hatred.
“Tajirika is my witness!” Machokali said in desperation but confident that Tajirika, owner and CEO of Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate and chairman of Marching to Heaven, and his dear friend, would fully back him up.
“Let’s call him,” Sikiokuu said with alacrity, and this readiness made Machokali uneasy, though he was still confident that his friend Tajirika would not let him down.
“I will certainly send for him,” said the Ruler. “It is now late. My men will make sure that Tajirika is here the first thing tomorrow morning. But as I don’t want any of you to interfere with the witness, both of you will spend the night here. You don’t mind sharing a bedroom in the State House, do you?”
3
Sikiokuu and Machokali were locked in a room with displays of the bones and skeletons of past enemies of the Ruler adorning the walls. After a while lights were turned off and they found themselves in total darkness. The room was cold and miserable; they were paralyzed by terror, as they could not tell whether or not they had already been condemned to death, with their skeletons slated to become part of the grisly decor. They did not speak a word to each other, each huddling in his own corner, at the mercy of his own thoughts and imaginings that the spirits of the dead were present. Machokali was first to sense a silhouette in the dark, and as he thrust his hand in the air, he pinched what he was sure was a spirit. Sikiokuu felt the pinch and he too assumed that it was one of the spirits, and as he thrust out his hands to ward off another pinch he pinched something himself, and this confirmed his worst fears. In the morning, each one was relieved that he was still alive and well. Now Machokali and Sikiokuu prayed that Tajirika had been found, for, apart from the fact that each expected support from his testimony, they did not want to spend another night in the company of emissaries from the underworld.
4
The police whisked Tajirika from his Golden Heights residence to the State House early that morning and ushered him into a room with white drawn curtains. They did not tell him why he had been summoned, and, though he had all sorts of conjectures in his head, the last thing he expected was to see Machokali and Sikiokuu enter the room barely minutes after his arrival. He did not know how to react or whom he should greet first, so he just said good morning without addressing anybody in particular.
Neither answered back, both avoided eye contact with him. He quickly figured that his confession was at stake here. He tried to work out what he would say if asked about it, only to come to a mental cul-de-sac, for quite apart from the fact that he could not possibly recall each and every word, he had no idea which of the two ministers was in favor with the Ruler. He decided to be as vague as he could when answering the first few questions put to him, the better to find out.
The curtains parted and Tajirika saw before his very eyes a human monstrosity emerge. Taj
irika was about to bolt but when he saw that Machokali and Sikiokuu took this apparition in stride, he took courage and sat still. The Ruler must have eaten a lot of steaks in America, Tajirika thought to himself, recognizing a semblance of the Almighty Ruler in the figure that now sat in judgment.
In the dock were Machokali and Sikiokuu, who sat opposite each other; an observer could not tell the difference between the prosecutor and the accused, because their faces were equally solemn. Tajirika sat in the middle, facing the judge directly. Inwardly, the three waited for Tajirika’s words as if he were an oracle.
Machokali was fairly confident that the words would help clear him of all the false allegations against him. Sikiokuu was equally sure that the words would confirm the charges.
The Ruler was the only one not worried whether the words supported the charges or not, for he had a different and more immediate agenda.
He had read the two volumes that Sikiokuu had given him, and what captured his attention, to the point of its becoming an obsession, was the fact that Tajirika had already collected money from the Marching to Heaven scheme. The unexpected discovery that some people had already profited from the project hit him hard: so people had already started making money from Marching to Heaven and no one had said a word about it? So here I am, roaming the world, my hat in hand, enduring insults from the Global Bank, and these people are amassing fortunes behind my back? How much money had they collected? Who else was involved in the scheme? Those were the questions to which he now hoped to get answers, but he knew that he had to tread carefully in order not to frighten Tajirika and make him retreat into his shell before disclosing the names of his fellow schemers.
So Tajirika was not only at the center of charges and countercharges between Machokali and Sikiokuu, but also at the source of suspicions and resentments in the mind of the Ruler. He sensed the tension but assumed it had something to do with his confession, and, like Machokali and Sikiokuu, he expected to be asked about it. But even the two ministers, familiar as they were with the unexpected ways of the Ruler, were taken aback by the first question from the judge.
“What have you brought us?” the Ruler asked Tajirika almost gently.
“Your Mighty Excellency, they came for me in the morning and I did not have the time to, uh, to…” Tajirika stammered and then stopped.
The Ruler realized what had made Tajirika pause and hastened to put him at ease.
“Don’t worry about coming here with empty hands. Send your gifts later. What I am now asking you is this: what do you want to tell me in the presence of these counselors?”
“About what?” Tajirika asked, puzzled, for he felt that he was being treated as if he was the one who had asked for the audience.
“Whatever weighs on your conscience. Anything that troubles you,” said the Ruler, trying to make it easier for Tajirika to confess about the money. “Do you have a weight in your heart that you want to lay before me?”
The question threw Tajirika into turmoil. He had always dreamt of an opportunity for precisely such an audience with the Ruler, and now he was at a loss for words. Maybe he was caught off-guard by the Ruler’s solicitous tone, which had reminded him of a pronouncement he had heard long ago: Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Or was this a trap? Will I reveal my innermost thoughts and in the process land myself in more trouble? Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. How alluring the words! Relief was being tendered! Where would he start? He went over recent events in his mind-from the humiliation of having his chairmanship of Marching to Heaven weakened to being beaten by women-to see which burden he would first lay at the feet of the Lord. He recalled lying on a cold cement floor under the weight of three big strong women, and he felt the pain of being beaten with renewed force. He thought of Vinjinia, his own wife, being dragged to a dark forest by none other than Kaniürü, his usurper who had him arrested simply for refusing to obey a summons to appear before him. How could Kaniürü dare lay his dirty hands on his wife? This seemed a bigger blow to his manhood than anything else. He remembered that Kaniürü had been acting on behalf of Sikiokuu, and the bitterness of the humiliations from the man who now sat before him almost choked him. He now unconsciously opened his mouth to unburden himself.
“What I don’t understand, even now,” Tajirika said, as if continuing a soliloquy already begun, “is the connection between Sikiokuu and the women of the people’s court.”
“People’s court?” asked His Mighty Excellency, glancing in the direction of Silver Sikiokuu.
“Your Mighty Excellency,” Sikiokuu said defensively, “I have not had the opportunity to brief you fully on everything. I think Tajirika is referring to the women alleged to be beating up men.”
“And they started with me,” Tajirika said in self-pity. “I ask myself: why me?”
While Sikiokuu was baffled and worried by the direction of things, Machokali for his part felt a bit more buoyant, for the conversation was drifting away from the charges of treason. He even felt like laughing at the thought of his friend being beaten by women, but he controlled himself.
“This is not a laughing matter,” said the Ruler, as if he had sensed Machokali’s thoughts. “It is very serious,” he added for emphasis, recalling the drama of shame at Eldares, especially the women’s call to set Rachael free. Somehow these reflections made the Ruler feel closer to Tajirika as a fellow sufferer of shame at the hands of women. “Go on, Titus,” he told him.
Tajirika sensed pity in the Ruler’s voice, giving him the courage and strength he needed to tell the story of his misadventures. He told how the women kidnapped him and then later charged him with domestic violence before sentencing him to several strokes of the cane, and as he now came to the end of his ballad of woes, Tajirika felt overwhelmed by a sense of joy and gratitude at having shared his misery with a sympathetic audience. May His Holy Excellency live for ever and ever, he sang to himself.
“And how does Sikiokuu come into this?” asked the Ruler.
“No connection. Absolutely no connection!” said Sikiokuu, flapping his ears from side to side.
“I am not asking you,” the Ruler told Sikiokuu.
“What I don’t understand is this: why did Sikiokuu stop me from beating my wife? Or let me put it this way. Sikiokuu orders me not to beat my wife. But I, desiring to assert my male prerogative, lay my hands on her. A week hardly passes before these women come for me. And after they punish me, they warn me not to beat my wife, the very same words that I had first heard uttered by Sikiokuu. What a coincidence!” he added in English.
“Those were not real women,” shouted Sikiokuu in desperation, unable to restrain himself. “They were shadows created by the Wizard of the Crow.”
Tajirika looked to the door as if he feared that the wizard might be standing there. Machokali and the Ruler did the same, but the latter pretended not to have heard properly and now fixed his eyes on Sikiokuu. For a few seconds there was nothing but silence.
“Mine were real women,” asserted Tajirika, breaking the silence.
“When did the women beat you up?” Machokali asked Tajirika sympathetically.
“When the Ruler was in America,” said Tajirika, trying to nail the date down.
“But that was when the Wizard of the Crow was in America,” said Machokali, forgetting that Tajirika did not know this.
The Ruler, Sikiokuu, and Tajirika looked at Machokali at the same time but for different reasons: the Ruler because Machokali’s mention of the Wizard of the Crow revived the pain inflicted by the sorcerer’s letter; Sikiokuu because he knew well that Machokali was trying to keep alive a story that was against his interests; and Tajirika because he was hearing about the Wizard of the Crow being in America for the first time. What games were the two ministers trying to play, with Sikiokuu claiming that the women who beat him up were mere shadows and Machokali claiming that the Wizard of the Crow had somehow escaped prison and gone to America? Tajirika thou
ght.
“I know nothing about the Wizard of the Crow being or not being in America. All I know is that I left him in prison,” said Tajirika.
“You were in prison?” asked the Ruler. In the reports that he read the night before, there was no mention of this. “Why were you in prison?”
“Your Mighty Excellency, I was intending to brief you on this and other matters,” Sikiokuu said. “Tajirika wasn’t actually arrested-it was just protective custody. Or, what do you say, Titus?” Sikiokuu asked, hoping that Tajirika would confirm this.
“No, no,” protested Tajirika. “I was being detained for real. I was imprisoned in a real cell. But Your Mighty Excellency, being put in a prison cell was not the worst…” Tajirika paused as if overcome by the recollection of past wrongs.
“Go on, Tajirika,” the Ruler said encouragingly. You have the floor. What is this that you say was worse than prison? A conscience troubled for not disclosing some wrongdoing?” the Ruler added, hoping to direct Tajirika’s revelations to the question of money.
“No, not even that.”
“What could be worse than withholding vital information or keeping bad deeds locked up inside oneself?”
“Being thrown into the same cell with that sorcerer. The Wizard of the Crow.”
“What is all this about?” the Ruler asked Sikiokuu.
“I will explain everything when I report about Nyawlra,” Sikiokuu said, looking at the Ruler with eyes desperately pleading for mercy and understanding.
“Tell me something, Sikiokuu: when you put the Wizard of the Crow in prison, was that before he left for America or after?” asked Machokali innocently, but still trying to stoke the fire of tension. “The Wizard of the Crow cannot have been in two places at once. If he was in America when Tajirika was being beaten, when did he manufacture and unleash these shadows?”
Wizard of the Crow Page 59
