Finn waited while Templeton packed his pipe with tobacco and lit it. “And he is here,” he finally said. “This king, in Kitali?”
“It is the silence of Kitali that led me to the truth,” Templeton said. He was no longer looking at Finn, but at some point beyond him.
“I don’t understand. What truth?” Finn said in frustration. “To the truth of this king?”
“To more than a king,” Templeton corrected gently. “Imagine looking for a king and finding God.”
Finn was silent. The sun had begun its rapid descent toward the sea. Around them, the air was still and soft with color. “And this God,” Finn tried. “Does he live in Kitali?”
“Mohammad has made a home in a place where God has always existed. Without his faith, I would never have found this man. Faith links us, even through time. If you don’t understand now, perhaps you will someday.” Templeton paused, looking at Finn attentively. “It’s interesting how we are all here tonight. Even Wicks must be sensing his destiny.”
“Since when have you been interested in Wicks’ destiny?”
“I am merely an actor with a role, as are you. Mohammad would rather die than fight.”
“Fight who?” Finn asked urgently.
Templeton lowered his voice. “Mohammad’s niece was raped.” He stared hard at Finn, his eyes lit by the setting sun. “She was coming to see me, following the stream inland and on her way to me she was raped. She won’t speak to me about it—she’s afraid of me now. It had to be a white man: she used to trust me.”
Finn was shaking his head. “I don’t think Wicks has it in him.”
“No?”
“Besides, he’s been busy elsewhere.”
“I hold him responsible.” Finn stared at the older man, at the stubborn set of his jaw. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am alone,” Templeton added. “I’m not the only one who thinks something must be done.”
“So you have enlisted others to further your resolution.”
Templeton looked at him quizzically. “I didn’t have to. Your confusion is that you don’t know if you’re one of them.” Templeton uncrossed his legs and rose to leave. “I did not ask to play a role in your life,” he said. “But we are intertwined and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. I am glad you are here tonight. It is right for us to be together now.”
After Templeton had left, Finn gripped the handle of his walking cane, which for some reason he had left behind. Eventually he made his way to a shelter at the outskirts of the village and lay down on a makute mat as the light faded and the first torches were lit around Kitali.
When the sun had set completely and the night was dark, Finn found his way easily to the center hut, where a fire had been lit for the ceremony. Men and women gathered, arranging themselves in small groups. Finn hung back, listening to the low hum of conversation. Mohammad appeared out of nowhere and touched Finn’s arm. “Come,” he said. “Sit with us.”
Templeton settled himself across from Finn, his face animated in the firelight as he exchanged greetings. Wooden bowls were distributed, followed by squares of colored cloth woven into fine patterns. The children were excited and fidgeted until a clear female voice started a song of thanks and others joined in.
When the song was over, Finn could not help smiling at the jubilant mood around the circle. “This is a special day,” Mohammad said, as platters of food began to arrive and the air grew fragrant with the smell of coconut curry and roasted vegetables. “A day when once, years ago, a great change came to our people. It is said that there will be a time when change will come again. But as is fitting at this time, let me take you back to the beginning.”
Mohammad accepted a cup of tea and sipped it, surveying his guests through the steam. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fumes. No one spoke. Soon the sound of the surf and the song of night insects became like conversation, like music, and it was no longer silent at all. At this point, Mohammad began. His voice was soft and low and seemed to find a place between the surf and the night song, so that neither was diminished. Templeton smiled and bobbed his head, swaying slightly as if listening to a fine instrument.
“Our resources have always been limited by the sparse foliage on this dry side of the island. Thankfully, we have been blessed with water. It came to us like a miracle, trickling its way through the sand. The elders accepted this as a sign from God that they had taken the right course. ‘See what happens,’ they would say, ‘when evil is far away.’ ”
As the food was passed around the circle, Mohammad went on to describe how he had come to decide on the location of the new village after consulting with the white-haired mganga, who gave him the tools he needed to find the water. But the final tool, he stressed, was faith. He had been guided by the stars and by faith. “A faith that was patient,” Mohammad added. “Not angry or vengeful—a faith that allowed us to see with clear vision God’s greater plan and to have the wisdom not to interfere.” Finn noticed that first one man and then another leaned toward Templeton and spoke into his ear while he nodded, pressing down on the air in front of him with his hand.
Mohammad blessed the food, which was consumed with joy. It was a rare meal. Each dish contained a multitude of flavors that arrived on the tongue at respectful intervals, leaving the perfectly sated diners with the impression that every appetite they had ever possessed had been recognized and honored.
“And my friend Templeton,” Mohammad said. “You said you have something to share with us?”
“Yes,” Templeton said, setting his plate down and pulling a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I have long been an admirer of Swahili poetry. Recently I came across a poem that seemed appropriate to the occasion—to Kitali. Some of you may know it. It reminded me of our many discussions, Mohammad. It could be a manifesto for your village, a blessing for this meal. It could be any number of things. The poem was written by Sayyid Abdulla bin Ali bin Nasir almost two hundred years ago.” Templeton put on his glasses and began to read in Swahili:
How many wealthy men have we not seen
Who in their splendor shone like the sun itself,
Strong in their great hoards of ivory,
Powerful in stocks of silver and of gold?
To them the whole world bowed down in homage,
For them the Road of Life was broad and straight.
They went their ways in arrogance, unafraid,
Heads high in air, their eyes screwed up in scorn.
They swung their arms and tossed their haughty heads,
Retainers went behind them and before.
Wherever they went they took the seat of honor
And many bodyguards surrounded them . . .
Know you, the day will come when over all
The World there will be change: the Seven Heavens
Will be moved from their place. The Sun and Moon
Will tumble from the sky. And for us men
There will be fire and heat, both without cease.
Where will you turn on that last day, when flames
Rage within your spleen, and from your scalp
The skin is singed—where will you flee for help?
Tell me your refuge, for I would share it too.
Never forget that Day, when multitudes
Will assemble for every deed to be revealed;
That Day when the oppressed will kneel before
Their God and cry, “Decide between him and me!
Judge us, O Lord God! See how I was wronged
By this man—judge us in Thy rectitude!”
And God, by Whom all things shall be disposed,
Shall judge, repaying each his wrongs as due.
Nor can the injured ever be paid back
With golden nuggets, nor with coin of gold.
Money, even were it offered as recompense,
Is not accepted. Compensation must
Be rendered in good deeds performed in life.
And he whose record shows neith
er good deeds
Nor wrongs incurred from others—he, like a horse,
Is bridled, with bit pressed to his mouth,
And forced to bear the sins of those he wronged.
When Templeton had finished he looked at Finn, who turned away. A murmur arose around the fire as men and women discussed what they had heard, speaking in whispers about this day of judgment, when the sun and moon would tumble from the sky.
The mood of the gathering had changed; tranquility had been replaced by agitated whispers that traveled around the circle like electricity. Mohammad somberly thanked Templeton and rose to calm the villagers. “He who wants all will miss all,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “Let us not forget that this is a day of rejoicing, not a day of fire. Now, after dinner, we will have music and dance.” Mohammad smiled at the faces that were now turned to him. “I wish you all peace and God’s blessing on this beautiful day.”
When the meal had finished, the others gradually rose one by one, a few touching Templeton’s shoulder before they left. The platters and bowls were slowly cleared away, and in the background was a low drumbeat and the soft wailing of song.
“I will be visiting Stanley Wicks later this evening,” Mohammad said to Templeton when they were at last alone.
“Why ever for?” Templeton asked.
“He wanted to meet face-to-face, today of all days. I sent word that a meeting would not be possible until tomorrow, but he insisted that we meet tonight.” Mohammad gazed at the fire. “I imagine it is about the water.”
“What are you going to propose?” Templeton asked.
“That if he is patient, perhaps the water will change its mind.”
Templeton laughed. “I don’t know how receptive he’ll be.”
“He will not like it,” Mohammad said, rising to leave. “But we cannot become enemies.” He paused. “The island is too small for anger.”
When Mohammad had left, Templeton moved closer to Finn and sought to find out what had brought him there. Finn was distant as he told him about Fatima and her concerns. What he wanted to talk about was the poem. Templeton took some time to respond. As always, there was no quick answer. He talked vaguely about the riches you could see with the naked eye and others you could only sense. He talked about a day of retribution that reminded Finn of Fatima’s dramatic proclamations and his mind began to wander until it seemed Templeton’s oration was coming to an end. “On that final day, Finn,” he concluded, “justice is done. Any life worth living comes to such a day,” he added. “Yours is no exception.”
“My life?” Finn asked, rising to leave. “What would you know about that?”
“While we haven’t seen much of each other these past years, we are not strangers, you and I.”
“No. Strangers don’t have such high expectations.”
Templeton removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “If you’re referring to my letter,” he said, shaking his head in mute protest, “I merely wanted you to know what was happening here. This island is your home.”
Finn smiled rigidly. “You forget who my father was,” he said and turned to go, leaving Templeton illuminated in the dull glow of the now spent fire.
Not long after he had left Templeton, Finn took a torch and abandoned the warm hub of Kitali to skirt the site of Wicks’ hotel. He noticed that the construction had progressed considerably. The site was larger than he remembered it, and some of the structures seemed almost completed. Holding the torch low, he walked inland, to the farthest point of the site. There he crossed back over to Mohammad’s property and followed the stream that meandered through palms and sand.
Finn stopped when he came to an obstruction, where the water had begun to pool. It took him a moment to figure out what it was. Holding his torch up, he could see that Wicks or Gus had started to build a dam to raise the water level high enough to feed a pipe leading back to the construction site. The pipe was raised off the ground and supported by a truss. Finn jumped over the stream to inspect it more closely.
Wicks was sitting in the center of the largest of his round rooms, a kerosene lamp turned up dangerously high, surrounded by blueprints. Finn knocked on the wall next to where the door would be. Wicks started at the noise and then hunched back around when he saw who it was. “Hello, Finn,” he said sullenly. “What brings you to these parts?” Finn approached the island of paper, noting that Wicks smelled intensely of bug repellent.
“I came to talk to you about boundaries,” he said.
Wicks continued to examine his plans. “I see,” he said, without looking up. “How can I help you?”
“Have you or one of your crew recently helped yourself to an island girl?”
Wicks looked genuinely bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mohammad’s niece was raped,” Finn said. “You should know that the evidence against you is mounting.”
“I’d never touch Mohammad’s niece,” Wicks entreated. “You know that, Finn.”
“What I know doesn’t matter. It’s what others believe. In the meantime,” Finn continued, stepping now on one of his plans, “you’re building on land that isn’t yours. We both know this.”
Wicks stuck a pencil behind his ear and gazed indifferently at Finn’s foot. “We’re working on that,” he said. “I’m going to arrange a deal, a little give and take. It will all work out fine.” Wicks broke his stare to look at Finn. “Isn’t it a little late in the evening to be worrying about property lines?”
“You’re breaking the law, Wicks.” Finn squatted so he was level with him. “People here don’t take kindly to this. We have different ways of dealing with those who violate our laws than you do back home in England.”
“So you’ve come to threaten me, have you?” Wicks said as he gestured irascibly at his plans. “Tell me, Finn, how much can a few meters matter?”
“What matters is your disrespect for Kitali.”
“I have great respect for Kitali,” Wicks said. “Particularly its water.”
“If you had respect,” Finn said. “You would un-dam that stream and take your pipes back to your own property.”
“I can’t oblige you, I’m afraid,” Wicks said lightly. “We need water to mix cement. We’re finally going to have some level floors around here. Are you concerned about competition?”
Finn rose abruptly to take his leave. “I’ve said all I have to say, Wicks. Consider yourself warned.”
When Finn returned to his shelter, he lit a fire and began honing a machete. Templeton appeared from the shadows holding two cups of tea. He paused before coming forward. “I heard about Boni,” he said finally as he set a cup of tea next to Finn.
“I don’t want to talk about Boni,” Finn said, ignoring the offering of tea.
“I understand you found him out there,” Templeton said. “Saved his life.”
“Boni’s dead. I didn’t save anything.”
“You gave his life back to him. He chose to die.”
Finn stopped to oil his whetting stone. “It was Wicks’ damn wire line. Boni didn’t know any better.”
“I’m sorry, Finn. I know he was a friend of yours.” Templeton followed the motion of Finn’s hand, massaging his own as if to relieve pain. “Do you want to tell me what the knife is for?”
Finn was engrossed in the sharpening of the knife, vigorously shaving it against the smooth slab, filling the silence with the swish and ping of metal against oiled stone. Testing the edge of the blade with his fingertips, he glanced at the man across the fire. Even in the forgiving light, he looked old and defenseless. “What do you see in this place?” he asked evenly. “Another battle no one asked you to fight?”
Templeton was silent. The fire crackled between them. Finn got up to gather more wood, snapping precious branches in half to conserve them. Templeton joined him and when they returned to the fire, sat down stiffly. The effort of gathering the wood had tired him. Finn pretended not to notice.
“I don’t think
you understand that I love this place,” Templeton said at last. “That I have loved it for as long as you’ve been alive. What I have seen breaks my heart. For years there has been nothing to do but watch. I can no longer watch.” Finn continued to sharpen his knife. Templeton took out his pipe. “Tell me about Ingrid,” he said.
Finn laid the knife down. “You like to come when there’s something to save, don’t you? You like playing God.” Finn threw a few branches onto the fire so that the flames burned brighter.
“I can’t even play godfather, Finn. I’m a man with profound and obvious limitations.”
“Well, it didn’t work to push her in my direction, if that was your plan. You misjudged. She went the other way, fell backward. Fell into Wicks’ arms.”
“Wicks?”
Finn enjoyed the wrinkle of concern that appeared on his brow. “What’s happened?” Templeton demanded. Finn related a truncated story about her foot, the infection and the malaria that followed. He didn’t mention his night visits or elaborate on the subject of Wicks.
“Where is she now?” Templeton asked. “Who’s taking care of her?”
Finn ignored the questions. “I’m wondering what your plan was.”
“I wasn’t aware of a plan, Finn.”
“I think you always have a plan. I think your plan was to instigate some kind of insurrection in Kitali to give you an excuse to implement your own ideas of how things should be on this island. I think you didn’t want her interfering.”
The wrinkle on Templeton’s brow smoothed. “I see you’ve decided to care,” he said. Finn did not look up from his knife. Templeton reached for the machete and took it from him, wrapping his fingers around the handle and holding the knife out in front of him. “And what about your plan, Finn?”
“The man who doesn’t act is as bad as the man who acts wrongly.”
“I see,” Templeton said with a smile. “And what ‘act’ do you have in mind?”
An Obvious Enchantment Page 31