Wizard of the Crow

by Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong'o

  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 thought.

  “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?”

  “You should know,” Sikiokuu shouted at Machokali. “Stop pretending. You were the one who requested that the Wizard of the Crow be sent to America. I have kept all your faxes and e-mails on the matter. The Ruler is ill, you alleged in one of them.”

  “I did not call you all here to hear you crow about the wizard,” the Ruler said, wagging his finger at Machokali and Sikiokuu. “Why can’t you two talk plainly like my chairman of Marching to Heaven?” he added, nodding toward Tajirika approvingly.

  Tajirika felt joy continue springing within. If things continue this way, he might emerge from this ordeal free from the power of these two ministers.

  “Thank you,” he told the Ruler.

  “Titus,” the Ruler called him by name, still trying to soften him up with regard to the money, “you see now the kind of ministers I have?”

  “Well, you will have to do with what you have. What gives birth in the wilderness suckles in the wilderness,” Tajirika said.

  “What did you say?” the Ruler shouted at Tajirika. “What did you say about giving birth?”

  Only Machokali knew why the Ruler had become so touchy. Still, he did not show by look or gesture that he understood. He and Sikiokuu turned to Tajirika as if adding oil to the fire with the unspoken Yes, why did you say that!

  “It is just a proverb,” Tajirika said quickly, wondering why the Ruler had so suddenly turned against him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?”

  “Forgive me.”

  “Forgive you for what? Just answer my questions plainly. Riddles and proverbs are for evening entertainment at one’s own home.”

  “Yes, Sir Holiness.”

  “Listen to me. I have it on good authority that the queues started outside your office,” the Ruler said, to change the subject from pregnancy and sorcery to queues and money matters.

  Fajirika had no clue that the Ruler was so sensitive on this subject, and in his eagerness to undo the error he had made with his proverb he now hastened to expound his theory that it was the Wizard of the Crow who had started the whole queuing mania. At that, Sikiokuu cast him an evil eye, for he had expressly told Tajirika not to make the Wizard of the Crow the originator of the queuing mania, for that explanation would tend to exonerate Machokali. Machokali, for his part, cast him a glance of gratitude. Tajirika saw the evil look from Sikiokuu, but he knew that the eyes of a frog in a brook do not prevent cows from drinking water. Instead of halting his narrative, Tajirika now sat up and recounted how the Wizard of the Crow came to his office disguised as a job seeker …

  “Why are you so obsessed with this sorcerer?” the Ruler interrupted him. “Cut out the business of who started the queues and go straight to the question of envelopes of self-introduction.”

  In a second it dawned on Tajirika what the Ruler had been driving at all along. Was that really why he had been summoned to the State House? To answer questions about money that he had not used or even banked? The money was cursed, and it had now come to haunt him even inside the State House.

  “The envelopes? I was coming to that. You see, there is a connection between the queues and those envelopes,” he said without hesitation.

  He told how he had learned of his appointment to the chairmanship of Marching to Heaven and how soon after that a queue of seekers of future contracts had formed outside his offices, how they handed him envelopes of self-introduction, and how by the end of the day he had filled up three big sacks, each at least five feet by two, with money.

  “Three sacks full of money? And each bag more than five feet by two? In one day?” asked the Ruler.

  He could not tel
l where or how it came to him—it may have been triggered by the eagerness for knowledge in the Ruler’s eyes—but the idea of vengeance against Kaniürü suddenly formed in his mind and Tajirika found himself exaggerating the story of the money and enjoying it.

  “It was not even a whole day” he now said. “Just a matter of a few hours in the afternoon.”

  “One afternoon? A few hours?” pressed the Ruler.

  “Yes, a couple hours.”

  “And three big sacks, each more than five feet by two, full of money?”

  “Not just full. I had to push the notes down with my hands and even with my feet until each bag was tight and as heavy as a sack of grain. But, alas, just when I thought that I had finally crossed the valley of poverty into permanent wealth, I became ill.”

  The idea of vengeance, initially vague, was growing, and now it formed itself into a definite plan. So far he had talked only about money in general, and his listeners understood it to be in the form of Burl notes. Now in the plan the Burls became dollars. All he had to do was find a way of dropping the name of the currency to ensure maximum impact on his listeners. Tajirika paused and bent his head slightly in a dejected manner, and this reflected in his voice as he now said:

  “But after getting well I never once received another envelope stashed with dollars, all in hundred-dollar bills.”

  “Dollars? They bribed you in American dollars?” the Ruler kept asking.

  “Well, they were out to impress me. Some said openly that they knew that the Aburlrian Burl was nothing, that it changed its value every other day the way chameleons change color. Bunni bure, some would say in Kiswahili, and, because they wanted our friendship to be firm, they thought that it could be made so only by money that was global, firm and permanent in value, and the American dollar fits the bill.”

  “They said Burls were valueless?” the Ruler repeated. He was about to explode with expletives, but he changed his mind. “Why no more dollars afterward?” he asked.

  “Your Mighty Excellency, when I recovered from my illness, I found that all the powers of my office had been assumed by my deputy, John Kaniürü.”

  “And your deputy, did he also receive envelopes of self-introduction?” he asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. I think the person who can best answer that question is Minister Silver Sikiokuu. Kaniürü works for him. They are very close friends.”

  “I swear, I know nothing about this,” said Sikiokuu, alarmed and shaken by the implications.

  “Go on, Mr. Tajirika,” the Ruler said, ignoring Sikiokuu’s interjection. “Please continue.”

  “Even though I don’t know much about it,” said Tajirika, “I have heard that the queues moved to his place and that up to now Kaniürü continues to receive an endless stream of seekers of contracts. I have heard it said that there are some who have been to visit him twice or three times, with newer and fatter envelopes of continuous self-reintroduction. Dollars to help keep hope alive,” Tajirika added.

  “Three big bags of dollars a day,” repeated the Ruler slowly.

  “At least twice or thrice a day” said Tajirika.

  “That makes it at least six or nine bags of dollars every day. Sikiokuu, how many months have gone by since your Kaniürü took over as deputy chairman for Marching to Heaven?”

  Instead of answering, Sikiokuu rose to deny once again that he had any connection with the envelopes. He swore time and again, pulling his earlobes for emphasis, that this was the very first time he was hearing about the scheme.

  “But I will conduct an investigation. I will get to the bottom of this matter. I will set up an investigating team tomorrow,” said Sikiokuu, the veins of his neck popping.

  “No, not tomorrow,” said the Ruler. “I must have some accounting for this. I am sending for that Kaniürü now.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Sikiokuu enthusiastically. “Let him come here to expose the naked lies of some people and their cunning friends,” Sikiokuu added, obviously referring to Tajirika and Machokali.

  The Ruler phoned instructions for Kaniürü to be brought immediately to him, wherever he might be, even if it meant sending a helicopter to fly him to the State House.

  Sikiokuu was happy at this turn of events. If there was anybody whose loyalty Sikiokuu was sure of, it was John Kaniürü. He had done many favors for the youthwinger, raising him up from a simple lecturer at a polytechnic to a powerful presence in the land. There was no way Kaniürü would have collected such an amount of money without telling him and clearing it with him. Tajirika’s lies will be exposed, he mused, and to whom will this betrayer of friendship turn for help? And just as he was laughing inwardly in triumph at the image of Tajirika beating a hasty retreat, his tail between his legs, Sikiokuu heard Tajirika say:

  “This is the same Kaniürü who is the leader of the gang of thugs that kidnapped and beat my wife.”

  “Why? Is there something going on between them?” asked the Ruler.

  “No! No!” Tajirika protested, and started to tell his story.

  As he told how Vinjinia had been humiliated, his voice broke with the memory of the shame, and for a few seconds after he had concluded his story, there was an awkward silence in the room. They all could not help but be touched by the sincerity in his voice. The Ruler broke the silence by looking askance at Sikiokuu.

  “I am the one who asked Kaniürü to investigate those women of the people’s court,” Sikiokuu said. “Rut Kaniürü went too far. I was only trying to help Tajirika. He and I had spoken, and he had agreed to the investigation. If anything, it was Tajirika who urged me to take strong measures to uncover the women who had beaten him.”

  “Is that so, Tajirika?” asked the Ruler.

  “Yes, the part about my agreeing to an investigation is correct.”

  “Thank you, Titus,” Sikiokuu said in English. “You are a good man surrounded by false friends.”

  “Stop it, Sikiokuu,” the Ruler said. “I did not ask you for an assessment of anybody’s character.”

  Machokali did not like that Kaniürü would give a report on the investigations into the queuing mania and was all too happy to see and even contribute to the undermining of his credibility.

  “And is John Kaniürü, this friend of Sikiokuu’s, not the same who had earlier made false allegations about Vinjinia, resulting in her arrest and illegal detention?” asked Machokali with feigned innocence.

  Sikiokuu could no longer restrain himself at the antics of his rival.

  “Kaniürü is my friend,” Sikiokuu said. “Rut you, too, Machokali, have lots of strange friends in Santamaria. If not so, to whom did you go to say farewell in Santamaria just before you left for America? Or will you deny that you made a secret trip to Santamaria?”

  Caught unaware, Machokali, not sure how much his archenemy knew about this visit, decided to come clean but tinker with the truth here and there.

  “Yes, I did visit Santamaria, as I do many other parts of Eldares. I did not know that it was prohibited to visit certain parts of Eldares.”

  “Yes, but why then did you go there incognito?”

  “Look. I went there to meet with my friend Tajirika. We met openly at the Mars Cafe. Is that what you call incognito?”

  “Why did you take a taxi instead of your chauffer-driven Mercedes-Benz?” Sikiokuu challenged him.

  “Surely everybody knows how difficult it is to drive through Eldares during rush hour. It might even be quicker to take a mko-koteni pushcart.”

  “Was the taxi going by some other route?”

  “Taxi drivers know side streets better than anyone.”

  “Was it not during the meeting at the Mars Cafe that you asked Tajirika to be your eyes and ears in Aburlria while you were away?”

  “Don’t twist my words,” Machokali said heatedly. “I told Tajirika that, in my absence, he should be my ears and eyes as far as Marching to Heaven was concerned. In other words, I had gone to see him not only as my friend but also in his capacity as the
Ruler-appointed chairperson of Marching to Heaven. Strictly speaking, as the chairman he should have been a member of the official delegation to the USA, and I was there to explain to him why his name had been left off the list. But I did not know then that some people would scheme behind my back to prevent him from effectively carrying out his duties. I did not know that his designated deputy, your friend Kan-iürü, would take away from Tajirika what the Ruler had given him,” he finished, pointing a finger at Sikiokuu before turning toward Tajirika. “Is that not so, Titus?” he asked in a solicitous voice.

  “You have spoken some truth,” Tajirika said, without too much enthusiasm, for he still resented not having been included in the delegation.

  The Ruler was always happiest when his ministers, especially these two, were at each other’s throats, for it was during these heated exchanges that he was able to learn a thing or two that may have been hidden from him. But now he did not want their bickering to take the focus away from the bags of money, knowing that dollars, not Burls, were at stake. Three, six, nine bags of dollars a day? Probably more?

  “Mr. Sikiokuu, I asked you how many months have gone by since Kaniürü assumed his position as the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven. You have yet to answer me,” the Ruler said to Sikiokuu.

  Before Sikiokuu could respond, it was announced that Kaniürü had arrived and was now waiting at the door.

  “We can now hear from the horse’s own mouth,” the Ruler said.

  5

  Kaniürü strode into the room confidently, holding a briefcase in his right hand. For him to be summoned to the State House in his own right for whatever reason, bad or good, was a great honor. One look at Sikiokuu, though, and he knew that all was not well. Then he saw the Ruler pointing at him. The size of the hand and of the Ruler came as a surprise to Kaniürü, but he did not let it show or unsettle him.

  “We want to hear a full report from the deputy chairman of Marching to Heaven,” the Ruler told him, waving him to a seat next to Sikiokuu.