Wizard of the Crow (36 page)

“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 has 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 post.”

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?

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.

What accounted for the crowd? Party stalwarts? The radio station that kept on urging people to go to the site? The answer may very well lie in the statement that Big Ben Mambo, in his capacity as the Minister of Information, disclosed that the Global Bank missionaries would be the major guests of honor. This revived and intensified the rumors that the delegates had come to dole money out to the people, a radical departure from their normal practice of giving it all to the State.

NGOs sprang up to advise the grass roots on how to use the money. Yet others on the rights of the grass roots vis-ä-vis free gifts from banks. Some feminist groups, noting that the members of the Global Mission and the ministers who took them from queue to queue were all men, saw male intrigue and formed a Just for Women movement for a share of the Global Bank. Rival NGOs initiated their own queues with their own slogans.

When the day of promise came, all the queues that had mushroomed
in Eldares for different needs now zigzagged their way to the park. People, some of whom came from far away, began camping out at the site days before the event.