Wizard of the Crow

by Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong'o

  9

  The cabinet ministers jumped to attention like terrified cadets at the entrance of their commanding officer. The Ruler sat down and gestured for them to do the same. He then let his eyes wander from one side of the table to the other, resting briefly on each face before finally dwelling on Sikiokuu. The Ruler did not have to utter a word for Sikiokuu to know that he was being asked a question.

  “Your Mightiness, you are father to us all, and I, as a dutiful son, know that you are asking me to say something about the whole women thing. In my humble opinion, the people who are best placed to explain the fiasco are those who persuaded us that the queues should be interpreted as a mania in support of Marching to Heaven. In light of what happened, they might want to enlighten us as to what they really intended.”

  The Ruler glanced at Machokali. Big Ben Mambo, Minister of Information, quickly followed suit. He was like that: always alert to see who, Machokali or Sikiokuu, would eventually come out on top in order to side with the victor. Machokali seized the challenge.

  “Ruler who art our father here on earth, the English who gave us civilization, freedom, and parliamentary democracy taught us the doctrine that cabinet decisions are collectively binding. If a given minister does not agree with a collective decision, then he should resign his post. At our last cabinet meeting I did not hear Sikiokuu say that he was going to resign his post on account of his principled opposition to the mania of the queues. Instead he offered to dispatch motorcycle riders to the north, south, east, west, and center to advance the cause. They left weeks ago. By the way, where are their reports?”

  Sikiokuu hardly wanted his five riders and their mission to become the dominant subject of discussion, and he considered distracting attention from it by accusing Machokali of talking as if the British still ruled Aburiria but thought the better of it, recalling how the Ruler had reacted when Sikiokuu said something similar in relations to the Global Bank. He was confident about what he had up his sleeve and was waiting for the right moment to pounce, so he just sat quietly like a cat awaiting its prey, allowing Machokali to continue without interruption.

  “If truth be told, without adding or subtracting A or B,” Machokali pressed on, “we must admit that except for the one unfortunate occurrence, Eldares has never had so well attended a gathering. All Eldares was practically there.”

  Sikiokuu saw his opening:

  “Yes, but what was the outcome? How do we know that the amassing of the crowd was not part of their plan? Who was the mastermind of this woman thing?”

  One of the consequences of the event was the effect of the words woman and women on the Ruler; at their mention the Ruler’s heart beat faster; he became visibly agitated. Now everybody noticed the look he gave Sikiokuu, as if demanding to know what pleasure the speaker was getting out of constantly repeating the accursed word.

  “He is evading responsibility for the five riders,” Machokali complained. “As to who is behind the event, he should ask himself. Everyone knows that it is the so-called Movement for the Voice of the People. Toy snakes were again scattered all over the field. What I want to know is this: what has Sikiokuu done to ensure the arrest of these criminals?”

  With melodramatic slowness, Sikiokuu rose and intoned: “Your Holy Fatherness, to eradicate an underground movement is not as easy as some people might think. These renegades are cowards, meeting under the cover of darkness. They dare not into the light because they are not men at all. They are women, cowards. I am very happy to report that we have identified someone high up in the movement. Her name is Nyawlra.”

  “Is she in custody?” the Ruler blurted.

  “No, not quite—she slipped through our fingers.”

  “Oooh,” other cabinet ministers sighed, disappointed by the anticlimax.

  “But we know where she works,” Sikiokuu hastened to add, firing their curiosity. “We are keeping round-the-clock surveillance of the premises to make sure that her employers are not hiding her.”

  “Why don’t you arrest the whole lot? Employees, employers, whatever?” the Ruler asked.

  “One is now in custody,” Sikiokuu said, looking around triumphantly. “And this person is cooperating.”

  Wanting to share in the imminent triumph, some ministers started singing: Sikiokuu singe the enemy! Siki singe them all.

  “And who might that be?” the Ruler inquired, waving the singing ministers to silence.

  Sikiokuu cast a victorious glance at Machokali as if to say, You want a piece of this? I am not finished with you yet. Machokali tried his best not to panic, but his crestfallen look belied his attempts at indifference.

  “It is with deep regret that I announce that the person in question is none other than Vinjinia, Tajirika’s wife, Tajirika the chairman of Marching to Heaven, and as everyone knows a great pal of our friend here,” he said, nodding toward Machokali, expressing more sorrow than anger at this treachery and ingratitude.

  “The wife of the chairman of Marching to Heaven?” Big Ben Mambo, heretofore a staunch Machokali ally, asked, preparing to jump ship.

  “Yes, one and the same,” Sikiokuu said, and sat down, lowering his head in sorrow yet again, confirming the awful truth.

  Silence filled the room; Machokali felt it creep under his skin. His first inclination was to fall to the ground and ask for mercy, but he knew that by doing so he would be stepping into the trap that Sikiokuu had laid for him. His second impulse was to jump up and be the first to denounce Tajirika: demand his immediate arrest and summary execution. He realized the problem with this. Machokali cursed himself for his own negligence. Tajirika had tried to reach him, had left countless messages at his office and with the chauffeur, but Machokali, busy as he was trying to delay the departure of the Global Bank missionaries, had put them off as social calls. Had he returned them, he would now have the facts of the situation instead of being at the mercy of his enemy.

  He rose, not knowing what he was going to do or say. But when the Ruler icily told him that he need not bother to stand up, that he could say whatever he wanted to say seated, Machokali knew without a doubt that he was in big trouble. But he would at least go down defending himself, like a wounded animal.

  “Our Holy Father, who art …”

  “Skip the preliminaries and go to the point,” the Ruler snapped.

  “Any person who threatens the peace and stability of this nation should be done away with, even if that person is the wife of who is who in Aburiria. I know for sure that Tajirika was at the big ceremony. I remember him telling me that he had left his wife at home. Answer me this: Was Vinjinia at the meeting or not? Has she admitted to being a member of the movement or not? Or is the issue that she and her husband employed the madwoman Nyawlra? Anybody can inadvertently employ a thief or a murderer; criminals don’t go about announcing their crimes. But even if it turns out that she was at the meeting or is a member of the movement, it does not follow that Tajirika has anything to do with this. A wife can well turn against her husband, for as the Waswahili say, there is no man who is a hero to his wife.”

  With his Swahili proverb and statement about the treachery of trusted wives, Machokali stumbled into scoring an important point with the Ruler, who was reminded of the recalcitrant Rachael.

  “I don’t understand why Machokali is defending his friends with such vigor,” Sikiokuu said, sensing this shift and a little taken aback that his rival had put up such a gutsy defense of Tajirika and Vinjinia. “I have not claimed that Vinjinia is actually a member of the movement or that she was at the meeting. We arrested her because we believe that she has important information that will lead to the arrest of the criminals. Even she has not denied that in Tajirika’s absence from the office she and Nyawlra worked closely.”

  Machokali sensed that even the other ministers were becoming exasperated with Sikiokuu, and he smelled advantage.

  “We have been told that Vinjinia is still helping in the investigation. But this is what I don’t understand. How long h
as she been in custody?” he asked with mock interest.

  “Oh, not long at all, about seven days,” Sikiokuu answered quickly.

  “And in those seven days, what has she coughed up that might lead to Nyawlra’s arrest?”

  “This is not the proper forum to disclose that,” Sikiokuu said, angry at being compelled to answer Machokali’s questions. “I mentioned only a few details to show how much we who truly love Our Lord and Master have already done.”

  The Ruler cleared his throat and twice knocked the table with his club. Already he was feeling a little better, for there was nothing more likely to put him in a good mood than an acrimonious exchange between his ministers. He was able to compare what they said to what he had gleaned from his own sources. That he already knew about the arrest of Vinjinia was more than a distinct possibility.

  “Have you questioned Tajirika?” he asked.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Does Tajirika know that his wife is in police custody?”

  “I don’t know, but I am sure we have not yet told him of her arrest.”

  “And why have I myself been kept in the dark about these developments? Or are you, Sikiokuu, the one governing Aburlria today?”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ no, no, my Holy Almighty. I tried to contact you but, I mean, I don’t know why my calls were not being passed on to you. I wanted you to hear it from my own lips because of the delicate nature of the matter.”

  “Is there anybody else who has something to say?” asked the Ruler, addressing them all. “Or have you all decided to be keepers of secrets from me? Yes, for seven days, and then claim you could not reach me? It seems to me that you have all joined Sikiokuu in governing Aburlria.”

  The pendulum of power was swinging unpredictably, and, sensing that his rival was in trouble, Machokali once again took advantage of the moment.

  “Almighty Esteemed Father, it would have been much better if Sikiokuu had arrested Nyawlra first and forced her to give up names. Then further arrests could have been made. But Sikiokuu, despite his big ears, seems deaf to the din of the obvious. He arrested the wife of the chairman of Marching to Heaven in the vain hope that she would reveal where Nyawlra is hiding. I have only two more points to make. First I would like some guidance on what to do about Tajirika. Shall I dismiss him from the chairmanship of Marching to Heaven? And how would that be perceived by the Global Bank?”

  There was nothing more likely to command the Ruler’s attention than an obstruction to the flow of money for Marching to Heaven.

  “Sikiokuu,” the Ruler called out, “if you have ears, listen. Did it not cross your mind that the arrest of the wife of the chairman might make it appear as if the people around me are not to be trusted?”

  “She hasn’t really been arrested, just in custody,” Sikiokuu backtracked. “She is helping us out, that’s all.”

  The Ruler ignored Sikiokuu’s blabber and turned to Machokali.

  “How is the Global Bank mission taking the whole matter?” he asked without rancor or sarcasm but with anxiety.

  “Your Holiest and Mightiest Excellency, Beloved of the Whole World,” Machokali quickly responded, his eyes a little brighter, “well, about the shameful acts in Eldares, I told them, just as you had then tried to explain, that what they saw was a sacred Aburlrian dance performed only before most honored guests. They seemed quite satisfied and, to tell you the truth, the Bank is not particularly concerned with our traditional customs. Their main concern is only those forces, remnants of a bygone socialist age, that threaten stability and pose danger to the free flow of capital. If Nyawlra herself had been arrested, it would have made them happy. And since Sikiokuu has gathered sufficient information to effect an arrest, it would be good for him to do so before the Bankers leave for New York.”

  “What, are they leaving?” asked the Ruler.

  “Yes,” Machokali said.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow!”

  “Without seeing me?”

  “My Lord of Excellency, I tried everything possible to delay their departure so they could have the honor of being received by you. They did delay out of respect, but in the end said they simply had to return to New York.”

  “What of their report?”

  “They are going to work on it in New York and come up with appropriate recommendations.”

  “How do things look?”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all. In fact, they have invited you or me to visit New York should we need to bolster our case before they make a final decision. I told them to put it in writing, in black and white, as the English say.”

  Slowly he pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to the Ruler, who, try as he did to restrain himself, could not contain his curiosity and ripped open the envelope immediately. He perused the letter and a smile lit up his face.

  “The invitation is a bit general, though,” remarked the Ruler. “It says if I happen to be in New York … what do they mean, Markus?”

  With the Ruler’s comment about the invitation being open and vague, Sikiokuu saw a chance to talk himself into favor and deflect the focus from the issue of Nyawlra and Vinjinia.

  “Congratulations to you, Our Savior,” he chimed in confidently. “The invitation is timely indeed; and the new American president might even be behind its issuance. The Global Bankers are cunning. They may have made the invitation open only to see if Aburlria is serious about securing the loan. To send one minister might make the bank think that the project is not very high on our list of priorities, but if Your Mighty Excellency went there in person, accompanied by some of us who know how to listen”—and here he touched his ear-lobes for emphasis—”it would make the directors know that we mean business and that we are all united behind Marching to Heaven.”

  “Yes,” another minister commented. “Let’s leave the messengers aside and go straight to the man at the top for a face-to-face.”

  “Time for a state visit,” another minister offered.

  “And it would be good for His Royal Excellency to appear on TV, especially on GNN’s Meet the Global Mighty,” Big Ben Mambo suggested. “All the greats of the twentieth- and even twenty-first-century Western civilization have appeared on it.”

  The discussion had become a free-for-all.

  “I have heard it said that there has not been a single leader from Africa on that program, is that true?” another one asked.

  “Except Nelson Mandela,” another one said.

  “You see how these people discriminate against Africa?” another said with a touch of anger. “From the West they choose statesmen but from Africa, jailbirds. Unbridled racism.”

  “That means,” observed yet another, “that if and when the Ruler agrees to appear on the program, he will be the first real leader from Africa to join the Global Mighty.”

  The chance to go to New York to be wined and dined while lobbying for support for Marching to Heaven was medicine to the Ruler’s wounded soul.

  “It is time for all of you to listen,” he barked, instantly creating a hush. “It is said that there is no smoke without fire. Dark clouds precede a storm. I was not very happy to hear that Tajirika, my chairman for Marching to Heaven, employs people without first checking their background and history thoroughly. Do you hear me, Machokali? At the same time I was not pleased to hear of the arrest of his wife, what is her name, Vinjinia, and I don’t want the story to spread beyond these walls to the press. I want Vinjinia released immediately. I don’t want even a whisper of this botched affair to reach the Bank people. But I want Tajirika investigated, though subtly. Do you hear me, Sikiokuu?”

  “Yes, sir. And will Tajirika continue as chairman of Marching to Heaven?” Sikiokuu asked, emboldened by the Buler’s judgment. “I suggest that he be relieved of his post immediately so that he cannot interfere with the investigation.”

  “Shut your mouth,” the Buler warned Sikiokuu, “or I will do so for you. We do not change horses in midstream. Tajirika remains in his po
st.”

  It was Machokali’s turn to feel victorious; he even managed a smile that vanished as quickly as it had come.

  “I will appoint a deputy chairman; I charge Minister Sikiokuu to give me recommendations. And Sikiokuu, I want you to set up a commission to investigate this matter of queues and the ensuing mania. The commission of inquiry must find out where, when, and how the queues began and how the enemy came to exploit it as cover for her shameful acts. While the other ministers are welcome to suggest members of the commission, I leave its composition, including the election of chairperson, to Sikiokuu.”

  Sikiokuu was elated by the developments. He had triumphed over his archrival, or so he thought. His euphoria was dashed when the Buler announced: “I want full reports on my desk when I return from New York!

  “And as for you, Machokali,” the Buler said, turning toward him. “Busy yourself with arranging my forthcoming trip to New York. Fit in as many state visits as you can. I don’t want these Global Bank people to think that I am making the trip for the sole purpose of negotiating with them.”

  As disappointed as Sikiokuu was about not going to New York, Machokali on his part was displeased to leave his archenemy conducting a possibly damaging investigation. He tried to figure out ways to tie Sikiokuu’s hands.

  “What is to be done about Nyawlra?” he asked. “If the back of the Movement for the Voice of the People is not broken, the Global Bank might feel reluctant to release money to a country threatened by insurgency.”

  These words pierced the soothing dreams of state visits, reviving memories of the scandal of Eldares. The anger at the women and the lust for vengeance came back with a force that almost choked the Ruler. Why did they do that to me in front of all the eyes of the world?

  10

  How does one separate fact from fiction in telling the story of what the women did on that day? All who told it, and there were many versions, insisted they had witnessed it with their own eyes. Not in dispute was this: there had never been so large a public gathering than at the site of the dedication for Marching to Heaven.