Wizard of the Crow (66 page)

If only the closeness at their recent wonder could be reproduced in their other dealings at home, Vinjinia sighed, but the possibility made her break into one of her favorite lyrics:

She was in the fields outside her house, picking green corn for dinner, and she now continued in song all the way to the gates of her yard.

It was evening after sunset and everything felt peaceful, when she was suddenly grabbed by people she had not seen approach and was dragged into a vehicle that drove off immediately. The whole thing happened so swiftly that she did not have the time to scream. She did not even realize that she had dropped the sisal bag in which she had gathered the green corn.

She found herself seated between two men stinking of alcohol. It was dark in the back of the vehicle, and she could not tell how many
people were in it. Like Tajirika, at first she thought that these were ordinary criminals who had kidnapped her in the expectation of a ransom. But suppose her husband refused to pay the ransom? Or had plotted all this as vengeance?

There were many stories of spousal murder in Aburfria: husbands arranging their wives’ deaths and then shedding crocodile tears while claiming to be hunting down the killer; wives incinerating their husbands at home while making sure that they themselves sustained superficial burns as proof that they had narrowly escaped the fire. Had Tajirika gotten into his head to hire thugs to silence her forever? Maybe this whole thing was a dream, a nightmare, and when she woke up everything would be back to normal? But it was not a dream, and Vinjinia was now horrified at the thought that she was about to be raped. Where are you taking me? she asked in a tremulous voice.

“Mrs. Tajirika,” Kaniürü replied from the passenger seat next to the chauffeur. “My name is John Kaniürü. I don’t think that this is the first time that you and I have met. But in case you have forgotten, let me remind you. I am your husband’s deputy for Marching to Heaven. You graced the opening of our office with your presence. I am also the chairman of the Commission of Inquiry into the Queuing Mania, appointed to that position by the Buler himself. But more to the point, I am also the leader of the Mighty s youthwings in these parts. I am telling you all this to make sure that you know and understand that your life is in my hands depending on whether you tell me the truth. Only you can decide whether you want to go back home to cook for your children or to the Bed Biver as food for crocodiles.”

“Young man, why are you doing this to me? How have I wronged you? Or has my husband proven himself too strong for you and you have decided to take it out on me? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Your husband? He should not rejoice too soon. I am not through with him yet. But today, or rather tonight, we are not after your husband. In fact, you could say that he and I are on the same side. We want you to tell us about the women you have been consorting with, the women who have embarked on this campaign of terrorizing men. These dancers and jurors: how do you know them?”

“I don’t,” Vinjinia said without hesitation, though she felt pained at Kaniürü’s suggestion that he and Tajirika were working together.

How could her husband close ranks with his own enemy simply to destroy her?

“Okay You have sealed your fate. Not a single soul in all Aburfria knows where you are tonight. Driver, drive on. You have heard for yourself. This woman has elected to feed the crocodiles of the Red River.”

The car accelerated. After an hour or so it stopped, and three men forcefully removed her from the back of the vehicle. They were in the bush and despite the moonlight it was a little dark. The men dragged her across some empty space toward the river, Kaniürü and the driver following. There at the bank of the river now under the clear light of the moon she saw some crocodiles rear their ugly heads among the reeds. She who had been so stoic, she who had not so much as raised her voice, now screamed so hard and loud that she thought her head would split. But to her horror all she heard in response was her own echo. “Nobody can hear,” Kaniürü, one or two steps behind, now said. You know this river? It is called the Red River because these crocodiles have come to love the blood of any person who entertains any foolishness against the Ruler. Has your husband been foolish enough to promise to make you Mama Aburfria? Tajirika to overthrow a government? He is deceiving you. He is not capable of even throwing a stone across a river if he knows it has crocodiles. Like these you see here. These are very hungry because, to tell you the truth, since the Ruler went to America, they have not had their normal ration of human meat.”

She could not tell whether it was because of the words, the tone of their delivery, or a combination of both, but Vinjinia had never been so sure of anything: Kaniürü was not simply trying to scare her; he meant what he said; he might even be looking forward to throwing her to the crocodiles. How would she extricate herself from this madness? The fear that gripped her whole being with the certainty of death clarified her predicament. If she was going to save herself from these cutthroats, she had better think very fast and come up with something, anything, to buy herself some time. She stopped screaming. She said a quick prayer, asking God to help her calm her nerves. And she decided that the Wizard of the Crow would rescue her.

“I am a bit confused. You asked me about two groups of women, dancers and jurors.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“The truth is that I have no idea who the dancers were. I had come to the opening ceremony to see Minister Sikiokuu. I found them in the compound outside your offices. I assumed they were there for the ceremony.”

“Yes, I invited them,” Kaniürü said as if he did not want to dwell on how they had betrayed him. “What about the women who beat up your husband?”

“What is it about them that you want to know?” Vinjinia asked, calmly as if she was ready to cooperate.

“Who are they? Where do they live? And what is your connection with them?”

“I don’t know them.”

“You must be joking.”

“They are not real,” she said bluntly.

“What do you mean they are not real?”

“They are just shadows. Virtual. They exist only inside the mirror of the Wizard of the Crow.”

Tajirika did not understand how his wife could decide to stay out so late, especially now, when they were trying to put their lives back together. The workers at home told him that they had seen her go out to the cornfields but they never saw her return. The fact that her car was still in the garage confirmed that she may not have gone far. But when midnight came and she still was missing, Tajirika wondered: Might she have gotten stuck in the Lake of Tears and become part of the Museum of Arrested Motion? He jumped out of bed and went in search of her.

He stood a few yards from the lake. The moonlight fell on the surface, making it glisten with the color of silver. His eyes fell on the birds, the cat, the dog, the antelopes, the butterflies, all suspended in motion, but he was relieved to find no sign of any human figure. He
decided to go back into the house. At the gates to the yard he stopped. His heart was pounding. A sisal bag full of green corn lay on the ground, with a few cobs scattered on the grass.

Why should she have gone to pick corn only to dump it here? Had she been attacked and dragged away by an animal? But there were no signs of struggle. Or maybe she was simply the victim of a crime? These days criminals had become so bold that they raided people’s homes with impunity, and despite electric fences, high stone walls topped with broken glass, security guards with attack dogs, and even the latest devices for electronic surveillance, no house was really safe.

Then he recalled his most recent conversation with Minister Sikiokuu. Maybe Sikiokuu’s men had struck again? But had Sikiokuu not solemnly promised him that any investigation into the case of the women would be done quietly and secretly? They had not spoken about the possibility of questioning Vinjinia, let alone detaining her in any way, and even if they had, this time he would have said, Hands off my wife.

Since they had started talking again, Tajirika’s feelings for Vinjinia had returned. He actually felt grateful to her for her efforts in forcing the government to admit that he was in their custody. But his was gratitude tinged with fear, fear of the women of the people’s court, the shining machete pointed at his penis.

He was up and about early, and he reached for the phone to call his new friend Sikiokuu but there was no answer. Then he looked at his watch and realized that it was not even seven o’clock and the minister might not be in. Tajirika decided to go to his own office to make the call from there, hoping that by the time he got there it would be nearer to eight o’clock and Sikiokuu would be at work. At the gate, the sisal bag stared at him and he wondered, How will I explain Vin-jinia’s disappearance to the women?

No sooner had he thought this than he saw Vinjinia walking toward him. One look at her and he could tell she had had a rough and perilous night.

“What happened to you?” he asked with concern. Vinjinia could instinctively tell that there was no hypocrisy in his tone.

She collapsed on the spot as if weighed down by all the fatigue in the world. Tajirika lifted her up, took her inside, and put her on the
bed. Vinjinia sat on the edge of the bed without saying a word. Tajirika thought that she was angry with him, and he started to explain himself.

“I don’t know where you have been, much less what happened to you. But whatever the case is, I am very happy to see you back and alive. I have hardly slept. You just caught me as I was going to the office to work out how to look for you, where to begin. I had already tried to get Minister Sikiokuu, but no one picked up the telephone.”

“Leave Sikiokuu out of it,” Vinjinia said. “This was all Kaniürü’s work.”

“John Kaniürü?” Tajirika asked, feeling like hacking him into pieces. Kaniürü had gone too far, intruding in his affairs. Not only had he taken over his job, but he had had him arrested and tortured for not obeying his summons. Now this same Kaniürü had dared touch his wife. “This has to stop. Both of us cannot be tethered in the same kraal,” he said bitterly, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t waste your time on the likes of him. Let him be. He did not beat or rape me. I managed to untie the noose around me.”

Vinjinia told him everything, from being kidnapped at the gate to almost becoming fodder for the crocodiles of the Bed Biver.

When Tajirika heard the nature of Kaniürü’s interrogation, he knew immediately that Kaniürü was acting at the behest of Sikiokuu. He felt ashamed that he himself had been party to the inquiry into the women who had beaten him, for now he felt indirectly responsible for the kidnapping. He held his tongue and said nothing that might reveal his own complicity. He was glad that he had not said a word about his telephone conversation with Sikiokuu. Still, it was hard to keep anger and frustration at bay. Why did Sikiokuu entrust Kaniürü with a task that clearly belonged to the police?

“How did you manage to get away?” he asked.

“The Wizard of the Crow! I remembered him in my hour of need,” Vinjinia said, but she did not tell him that she had disclosed to Kaniürü that she had been to the shrine to ask for help. She still did not want Tajirika to know about her earlier face-to-face involvement with the Wizard of the Crow.

By the time she finished relating her story, Tajirika was beside himself with laughter. He laughed until his sides hurt.

“You told them with a straight face that those women did not exist,
that they were figments of the imagination, mere shadows? And they believed you? Kaniürü’s brains must be mush!” Tajirika said, recalling how the women had sat on him; how heavy they had been; how they had swaggered, one even brandishing a machete; how, finally, they beat him up. He broke into hilarious laughter again.

“Why do you laugh so? A wounded bird will land on anything.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for them to go to the shrine in search of the wizard to question him,” Tajirika tried to explain amid his laughter. “They will not find him there.”

“Not find him?” Vinjinia asked quickly, guiltily, because she feared that the story she had told Kaniürü might mean trouble for the Wizard of the Crow.

“The Wizard of the Crow is in prison under heavy police guard.”

“In prison? How do you know?”

“Because I saw him there with my own eyes. I was with him in the same cell. And I left him there, under Sikiokuu’s care.”

Vinjinia did not say another word.

Tajirika’s jollity persisted. Had Kaniürü, his archenemy, been outwitted by Vinjinia, a woman? He was full of admiration for his wife, and, on his way to the office, he savored Kaniürü’s injured manhood.

As for Vinjinia, she was stunned: How had the Wizard of the Crow managed to be in two places at the same time? How could he be in jail and at the shrine, promising to send a delegation of wise elders to restrain Tajirika? The Wizard of the Crow had indeed fulfilled his part of the bargain. Now it was time for her to fulfill hers. She changed into the traditional leather skirt and ochered top.

“What?” Sikiokuu lashed out the following day when Kaniürü called to report the goings-on at the banks of the Red River.

“Just what I told you. They are not real women. They are shadows out of a mirror—mere reflections. That’s why, now you see them, now you don’t. Like the women dancers at the ceremonial opening of my office. I have never seen or heard of them again.”

“Is that what Vinjinia told you? Those shadows—who creates them?”

“The Wizard of the Crow. Through his mirror. Something like a hologram. What they now call
virtual reality.”

“Wait a minute. The women who beat men, alias the women of the people’s court … Are you saying the Wizard of the Crow sent them as holograms or virtual reality to actually beat up Tajirika?” Sikiokuu asked with a touch of sarcasm. “Is that what she told you?”