The early morning mists rested lightly upon the African plain, the soft gray blanket rolling gently across the land, broken here and there by the jutting crowns of the great trees. One such tree in particular, a huge baobab, dominated its surroundings, seeming to watch over the countryside with a monarch's benevolence.
Rafiki sat quietly in its uppermost branches, cleaning his teeth with the frayed end of an acacia twig as he waited for the dawn. His eyes peered interestedly out over the otherworldly landscape which lay before him, sensing the frenzied hum of activity hidden in the mists below, waiting patiently with the sure knowledge of one who has stood such guard many times, a wizened steward of the land keeping careful watch over his wards.
The air around him was filled with the reddish gold of sunrise as the fiery orb made its appearance, bathing the land below in its warm rays. A gentle breeze ruffled his brow, setting the leaves around him to rustling. He smiled to himself as he listened to them, talking amongst themselves about the funny old mandrill in their secret leaf language. Peering below, he watched with interest as the breeze tore great rents in the mists, opening holes through which he could see clear down to the ground below.
He leaned forward, eyes focusing sharply as he caught signs of movement. Rafiki smiled and relaxed as he recognized the group of lionesses, weary and footsore as they padded slowly home after the night's hunt. Lifting his gaze, he looked out over the thinning mists to the outthrust shape of Pride Rock, its massive shape looming in the distance. They had quite a way to go, yet; it would probably be well into midmorning before they arrived, he thought.
He clambered slowly down the branches to his home in the heart of the baobab, hearing the soft tinkle and clink of his wood and bone wind chimes as they swayed in the breeze. Humming a little ditty in time to the sound, he wandered over to the small shrine set in a niche in the bole of the tree. Picking up a small bowl of ochre, he began to daub gently at the half finished portrait of Habusu, adding the fringes of a reddish mane to the head and shoulders. He paused for a moment, uncertain, then sighed, setting down the bowl and dusting off his fingers. His heart was not into painting, today, and he had no wish to botch the job with a half-hearted attempt. He gazed around the baobab, feeling suddenly lost, the warm tinkling of the chimes now a lost and lonely sound, reflecting what he felt inside.
He felt so old. What he had tried to deny to himself was too obvious to ignore. He was not just old on the outside, and the time was not too distant when Minshasa would come and take him away with her.
He blinked suddenly as a guttural grunt sounded from below. Peering down, he saw a lioness sitting under his tree. Rafiki smiled as he recognized Uzuri peering upwards at him. "Hello, madam."
"Good morning, Rafiki! Up early again, eh?"
"As always." He nodded to her. "How did you fare last night?"
"Pfft!" She snorted. "A waste of time; we saw only a few gazelle, and they must have had cheetah blood in them somewhere." She shook her head. "Gods, they were fast!"
He chuckled. "Not to worry, I'm sure you'll fare better next time."
"Are you still going to come by and check on Misha?"
"Yes, of course."
"Why don't you come with me, then? It's a long journey to make by yourself, and I would certainly enjoy the company." She looked at him inquiringly. "Unless you've got something else to do? I don't want to interrupt anything important."
A smile lit his face as he picked up his staff and descended to stand next to her. "You twisted my arm."
She smiled at him as they began to move off. "It’s one of those days that makes you happy just to be alive."
He looked at his friend and nodded. "Yes. I know what you mean." As they made their way slowly along, he mentally berated himself for being so gloomy. There had been a time, he thought ruefully, when he could count friends like Uzuri on the fingers of one hand, and beautiful mornings like this had been few and far between.
CHAPTER 55: MAKEDDE'S REST
Once Makedde said he prayed he would not die on a rainy day, but that he would go on a beautiful day. He wanted to die with reminders of Aiheu’s beauty to comfort those he left behind.
Indeed, just as the sun gilded the perfumed grass, and the wind swept the trees to wordless melody, Zazu came flying to Rafiki’s tree with urgency in every word. “Come quick, your brother’s dying!”
Rafiki grabbed a gourd with painkillers, but took nothing else. There was no need. This was an expected death, one that crept on its victim with the determination of wild dogs on a blood trail.
He ran as quickly as he could, which was not very fast. His pulses pounded, and beads of sweat popped up on his aging brow. Still, he pressed himself to make the effort. He knew his brother would do the same for him.
By the time he got to Makedde’s cave, the old mandrill was lying still on a bed of fresh hay gathered by a friend. The hay smelled like a morning meadow, masking the dampness of the cave. Still there was another lingering smell--the smell of death. Perhaps only a shaman like himself could smell it, but it was unmistakable.
“Is he dead?” Rafiki asked Zazu.
Makedde opened his eyes. “Not yet.” He reached out weakly with his hand. Rafiki took it. "I knew you'd come.” He smiled. “Zazu didn’t get you out of bed, did he?" Makedde’s head fell over and hand went limp.
"Oh no," Rafiki said, giving the limp hand a little squeeze and putting it softly on his brother's chest. "Oh no." Tears welled up in his eyes. "He was the last of my family. Now I am all that’s left," Rafiki told Zazu.
"The last of your family? Don’t be ridiculous. I mean there’s Simba, Nala, Misha, and don’t forget Uzuri.”
“Or you?”
Zazu preened his wing feathers. “Well yes, actually. And I’m sure you could think of others too."
Rafiki mused over this later as he sat up in the top of his baobab. He smiled to himself, fresh tears tracking down his face as he thought of the other members of his family, long gone in the past. Busara’s visage sprang up, then his mother’s. Kinara, ever complaining about old Maloki. Asumini, Penda...he sighed deeply.
Cool light flared at his back, and he turned to see a cub sitting in front of him. The fact that the cub was hanging in mid air sixty feet off the ground was irrelevant as he recognized the features. “Taka!”
A smile appeared on Taka’s face as he rubbed against Rafiki’s ankles. “Hello, Uncle.”
Reflexively, Rafiki felt at the pouch for his side, then stopped himself. It had been ages since he last had a use for it; what use had an old mandrill now for....
His throat closed as his palm slipped around the Tiko root in the pouch. He withdrew it, his hand trembling.
The reaction was immediate. The cub sat upright, haunches splayed against nothingness as he fought to keep his balance.
“Who do you love?” Rafiki whispered.
“You, Uncle ‘Fiki.”
“How much do you love me?”
“More than life.”
Rafiki dropped the snack and Taka snapped it up. “I really do, you know, no matter what I may have said!” Tears began to run down his cheeks. “Please forgive me!"
“Of course I do, Fru Fru,” he said, stroking the soft fur of Taka’s face lovingly. “You don't have to hide from me.”
The cub bowed his head. The light flared again, brighter this time. Rafiki squinted, unable to make out the features. “Taka?”
A wave of feeling washed over him as the light touched his face. "How could you still love me?"
"I always saw that light. It got buried deeper and deeper through the years, but never so deep that I couldn't see it."
The light shifted for a moment, then coalesced into the familiar form of the lion. His once dark mane now shone, shot through with brilliant strands of light as he looked at Rafiki. “Service,” he said. “I am here to serve, and through service find growth and peace.” He stepped forward and nuzzled Rafiki. “You are ripe with knowledge, Rafiki. It is time for you to b
ear fruit.”
“I don't understand.”
“The bond between Ka and flesh is strong, but it cannot last forever. You must seek out someone to pass on your wisdom to, before it is lost to the winds.”
“I tried! I tried, but Aiheu had other plans for Uhuru. He has found his place.” Tears threatened Rafiki again, and he wiped them away. “I have no one else.”
“I do not speak of the hyena. The tree of knowledge starts at the roots; try looking there first.” Taka smiled at him. “You will find the fields much more fertile than when you left.” He reached out and placed a paw on Rafiki’s shoulder. “It is imperative you not be hasty to accept unwanted advice. Be brave in making the hard decision. Respect the first impression.” He withdrew slowly. “I must go, Uncle. You have tarried too long with me. Return to your home.”
"Go now?"
"Yes, now. Hurry."
Rafiki straightened up, blinking. The leaves of his tree swayed gently as he shook off the effects of the vision.
"Rafiki?"
"Who calls?"
"Misha."
At the very mention of that name, Rafiki lit up like the sun. The lioness came to his entranceway. "I had an accident."
It was only a small cut on her shoulder, but when Rafiki saw it, he was very pained. Misha saw his tear stained face.
"Come now, it's not that bad. I almost didn't come."
"Not the cut, my dear. I just...." He put his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. "I just needed a friend tonight. My brother died today."
Her ears laid back. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you. It was expected, you know. I guess they will say the same thing about me someday: ‘the old ape had to go sometime.’ I can remember your great grandfather. He was my dear friend and to you a worthy ancestor."
"I don't know whether to envy you or pity you," she said frankly. "Who wants to outlive all their friends?" She looked at the tears that started in his eyes and regretted saying it. Nuzzling him, she asked "Why won't you come live with us at Pride Rock? It may seem a little crowded at first, but we all love you. You know I have invited you many times."
"And I have thanked you many times."
Her face drew down in a frown. "You are going to say no again, aren't you?"
"My dear little Misha. My work takes me into the forest. I would never get my herbs if I lived there. I have a place for everything, and everything in its place. Such as it is, this tree has been my home for most of my life. Most likely I shall die here.” He kissed her. “Still, every time you ask me, I feel warm inside."
"Then I must ask more often."
He quickly retrieved some heal-all and crushed it into a paste. This he put on the wound with all the care he could muster. "There, that should feel better."
"It sure does." She touched his cheek with her warm tongue.
"Take care of yourself, honey tree," Rafiki said.
"I'm not in a hurry," she replied. "Sit down. We'll talk."
With a smile that made his old face beautiful, he sat cross-legged on the ground. She came and laid her large, shapely head in his lap. Tears of grief and love flowed freely as he stroked her soft fur.
CHAPTER 56: THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD
Rafiki was not afraid of death, but he felt his own mortality stalking him. Someday it would spring and he would be cut down, and he must find someone to carry on his work.
He decided to go home for the first time since he left many years ago. He would return to the scenes of his youth and find what little of his past is left to him. And while he was there, he would look for the future. He took a gourd and hung it near his entrance. The moon painted on it said “I am away,” and from it he hung five small bundles of grass. One would mean “back momentarily.” Two would mean “returning later today.” Three meant, “try again tomorrow.” The message of five was unmistakable. “I will return someday, God willing.”
Taking only his staff and a few herbs for his back pains, he left his home in the baobab.
The herbs he needed grew in the edge of the forest, but it had been a long time since he immersed himself in the dense trees. The light was dim, and fell in small golden patches around him that shifted drunkenly in the wind. Huge trunks like columns bore a roof of verdant leaves. It took him a moment to find where he was.
The path had changed some, but it brought back many old memories. Rafiki found himself deeply stirred. Crossing a stream where he used to play as a child, he reached in and got a small flat rock. He pulled back his hand, and unhampered by age gave it a quick snap, skipping it once, twice, and again across the water. “Still got it,” he muttered with satisfaction. He went and sat on the bank in the spot where his father had talked with him about the facts of life. Much of the anger that he had carried for years was gone. He was left with the good memories of a kind father that loved his family.
After a rather long walk, he finally got back to the village where he was born. With a smile of fond recognition, he looked at the clearing, and at the lone acacia that stood in the center. One of the females was pounding roots with a stone. Another was nursing an infant and gossiping with her companion. Young were running about, playing tag. “Asante sana, squash banana! We we nugu, me me apana!” Once he had been one of those.
He stopped to talk with one of the females. One after another of the friends he asked about was dead. Chango’s son was still there, as was a nephew of Bugweto. Duma, who had once terrorized him, was a pale shadow of his former self. He didn’t recognize Rafiki, but as his son said, “Some days he does not recognize me. Today is not one of his better days.” Pity surged in Rafiki. He tried hard not to associate the trembling, drooling specter with his childhood arch enemy.
Most never heard of, Rafiki, even though he used his old name. Finally he saw his old friend Wandani.
Wandani came up to the strange mandrill, still looking rather young. “Sir, can I help you find something?”
“Don’t you sir me, Wandani! What’s the matter--don’t you know your best friend?”
Wandani looked at him carefully. His eyes misted up. “Oh my gods!” He reached out and touched the snow white whiskers and looked at the wrinkled face. “Metutu, what happened?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“I’m sorry!” Wandani hugged him firmly, stroking his back and patting his shoulder. “Metutu, I didn’t realize how long it had been! My dear friend!” He wept.
“It does my heart good to see you again.”
“Same here. So how is Asumini? How many children did you have?”
“You mean you don’t know?” The freshness of the pain surprised Rafiki as the tears welled up in his eyes. “She died after the first year. My daughter Penda too. It was a crocodile.”
Wandani gasped, bit his lip, and began to sob. “Oh no!” He hugged Rafiki so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Forgive me, but I must tell you I was in love with her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It doesn’t matter. She never returned my feelings. Oh gods! Not my little Asumini!”
“Rafiki Wandani. My dear old friend. How many times I’ve wondered what happened to you.”
Wandani struggled to regain his composure. “Well, let’s see. Your brother Makoko died about three years ago of blood fever. His son Kudura is now in charge. Of course your dad is long gone, but you would have expected that.”
Wandani took Rafiki to the spot where his father died. “Here we buried his totem, right next to the effigy of Kima. It was his wish. Now some wanted to destroy it because he was an Aiheuist. It’s still not a safe philosophy, but it’s not actually illegal anymore. It’s beginning to spread, too.”
Rafiki smiled. "That’s what Busara said. He knew what he was talking about."
Next Rafiki passed by the tree where he had grown up. It still stood much as it had then. But there was a different home that called to him, one that had briefly been a refuge from the harshness of the world.
The cave
was unoccupied. He and Wandani felt their way back into the dark recess as far as they dared. The few remaining lamps were long dried and withered. He had never even reached the stone column where he had first pledged his life to Aiheu.
Suddenly there was a soft blue light. They looked about, startled. “Asumini?”
The lioness purred. “Honey tree, welcome home. Hello Wandani!”
“It’s her!” Wandani said, shaking. “The ghost!”
“She’s quite nice when you get to know her.” Rafiki knelt and hugged her. “Oh it’s good to see you again! Has it been so far to travel that you won’t drop by?”
“You don’t need me. Most of my crowd are dead, so there’s not much left to hold me to this world. But my love for you is deathless.” She nuzzled him. “Take the cord from around my neck.”
It was the tooth that Busara had worn--her own canine on a cord braided from Ahadi’s mane. Rafiki pointed to himself, and she nodded. He slipped the cord around his neck.
“Now when you are lonely for me, I will be next to your heart. But don’t live in the past. As I have been to Busara, Uzuri has been to you. Appreciate what Aiheu has given you.”
“I know, but I shall not forget you.”
She nodded her head. Suddenly the lights twinkled to life. It was as if Busara had only just stepped out. Glad for the light, Rafiki walked on past the pillar of stone and looked at the wall. Busara’s paintings called to him with messages both pious and joyful. But they were also reminders of a happy time that had long since fled. He knelt down and looked at the painting that represented himself. Next to him was young Asumini, and their hands were joined. Rafiki reached out with his fingertips and brushed them lightly over Asumini. “My wife, my lover, my dear friend.” He looked at Wandani, a melancholy smile on his face. “I am fast growing old. Someday when my people are free, you must bring them here and show them these paintings. Tell them about Busara. Tell them that death itself could not destroy the work of Aiheu.”
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