Wizard of the Crow (81 page)

Kaniürü pranced about in joy and disbelief. Kahiga did not know whether to follow Kaniürü’s example and jump up and down, elated, or risk seeming ungrateful by remaining seated. For a second or two Peter Kahiga was unable to figure out what he had actually heard. He had been referred to as ASS, whereas before today he had only one S. Now two and an A to boot. Should he ask the Ruler to clarify his honorific? His uncertainty disappeared with the Ruler’s next words.

“I want the leaders of rebellious youth and women to be crushed like ants, and I don’t think this should pose a problem to Assistant Senior Superintendent Peter Kahiga.”

Kahiga felt his heart skip a beat. The other wizard had yet to seek retribution. For now he was safe and felt joy in his heart. He now rose and ran a lap of victory around the room. The Ruler gestured for Kaniürü and Kahiga to resume their positions, and he told them that the State House was not an athletic field, that they should remember that they were in Aburlria, that if they wanted to be runners they should emigrate to Kenya or Ethiopia.

“May I say a word,” Sikiokuu said, stung by the promotion of this traitor. “You asked me about queues and the queuing mania. Since you banned the mania, queues have not come back. I am confident when I say that the queues are practically gone. In addition, I have already lined up people to report to me should there be a resurgence of the mania anywhere in Aburlria,” he added, hoping that further inquiry into the queuing mania would be denied as a mandate to the proposed unit.

“So if I hear that the queuing mania has resurfaced, I will have heard lies?” asked the Ruler.

“Well, not lies, but misinformation,” said Sikiokuu. “I can say that whoever were to tell you this would not be in possession of all the facts, and he should have checked with me. Some people will say anything to get promoted,” he added, glancing at Kaniürü, who he assumed had lied yet again.

As the Ruler still resented the way the Global Bankers had condescended to him as if they knew more about his own country than he did, he did not mind hearing Sikiokuu’s reassurance, though his suspicions
about the motives of the Global Bank in urging him to return home increased.

“You have done well to contain the queuing mania,” said the Ruler, “but this does not mean that we should become any less vigilant. What do the English say? The price of internal vigilance is freedom.”

“Thank you, Your Mighty Excellency, for your faith in my abilities,” said Sikiokuu, though he was sure that the Ruler had jumbled the words of the English proverb.

“Yes, Sikiokuu, and here is one more test for you,” said the Ruler. “I want you to come up with a repayment plan for the money you have made so far on Marching to Heaven,” he said curtly. “And another thing: before I went to the USA, I instructed you to comb the land, leaving no stone unturned, to find that woman Nyawlra. I have been back for several weeks, and no one has come to tell me she is in custody. If you thought that I was going to relieve you of this duty, think again. Put aside your envy of other people’s abilities and deliver her to me. I will make it easier for you. ASS Njoya will assist you.
Here is the deal.
If you bring me the woman, I may even forgive the money you owe me.”

The Ruler is truly gifted with the carrot and the stick, Sikiokuu said to himself, grateful that he had not been fired from his ministry and had retained one of his loyalists, Njoya. But still, he smarted at the thought that Kaniürü had been promoted and given a subdivision to head. Sikiokuu foresaw nothing but conflict.

“Your Mighty Excellency, I would like a clarification of the chain of command. To whom will Kaniürü be reporting?”

“Kaniürü’s unit is part of your ministry, so he will be reporting to you most of the time and me, sometimes, as I see fit.
Is that clear enough?”

“Yes, sir,” Sikiokuu said, although he could see that his hands were now tied.

“What did I tell you?” the Ruler asked them before answering his own question. “I know who the real enemy of the country is.” He paused and stared at each of their faces, finally resting his eyes on Machokali. “And I will tell him this,” he said, wagging a finger at Machokali as if to identify the culprit, “wherever he is, he might think he is very cunning, but …”

Anger silenced the Ruler for a few seconds, as if all the pain he felt, all the troubles he had been through, all the humiliations he had endured, were flooding his brain.

It was not clear to Machokali where the Ruler was headed. At first he was happy about Kaniürü’s rise because it meant Sikiokuu’s demotion. But now with that wagging finger directed at him … ?

“Any questions?” the Ruler asked, to buy time to compose himself.

Kaniürü stood up. He cast an eye of triumph first at Sikiokuu, then at Machokali, and finally at Tajirika, and he was even more joyous to see Tajirika cowering with fear of the unknown that awaited him. Kaniürü seized this moment to ask to be made full chairman of Marching to Heaven.

“Speaking on my own behalf and on behalf of all the others …”

“Speak for yourself …” Sikiokuu and Machokali struck back in unison.

“Okay Speaking on my own behalf, and on behalf of everybody who knows the meaning of patriotism, I will repeat what I said the other day. Your Mighty Excellency, you will recall that I said that if a hurricane were to blow God’s hat and yours off your heads at the same time, I would pick yours up first. I know you have warned us against comparing you to God, but my Lord and Master I cannot help it.
Asante sana,
my Lord. I have a tiny request. May I?”

“Ask and it shall be given.”

“What about the deputy chair of Marching to Heaven?”

“He will still be reporting to the chairman.”

“And who is he?” Kaniürü asked, almost certain that he would be asked to take on the full chairmanship.

“Thank you for asking,” said the Ruler. “I was about to forget. Allow me to introduce the Governor of the Central Bank to you.”

They turned their eyes to the door to see the new governor. But they saw nobody come through.

“Titus Tajirika, my new Governor of the Central Bank and Permanent Chairman of Marching to Heaven, please stand up and be properly acknowledged.”

They could hardly believe their ears. Even Tajirika first looked over his shoulder as if there was another person with the same name. But when he understood that the reference was to himself, Tajirika fell to his knees in humility and gratitude, even as the others were terrified by the potential consequences of his elevation.

“Our Holy and Mighty Excellency,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you. You are a deity who dispenses fair justice to us mortals, giving hope where there is despair, even resurrecting dead souls. How can I repay your tender mercies? I renew my pledge: Now and forever, your enemy is my enemy”

Kaniürü saw an opportunity for him to show that he appreciated his elevation better than had Tajirika his. He got to his feet and jumped into the arena.

“Down with the enemies of the Ruler!” he shouted.

“Down with all the enemies of the Mighty Ruler!” Sikiokuu shouted, not to be outdone by Kaniürü.

“Down with every enemy of the Mightiest Ruler!” joined in Ma-chokali, not to be left out of the circle of praise singers.

These people may have been tired after seven days and nights of writing the pledge over and over again, but now their rivalry gave them a new lease of energy as they, now on their feet, tried to outdo one another in barking out their hatred of the Ruler’s enemies. They would have gone on, out of the fear of losing the right of the last word to the others, but the Ruler himself shouted at them, Down with all of you, in response to which they now suddenly shut up and retreated to their seats.

But Kaniürü, Sikiokuu, and Machokali did not even take one step forward. They stopped and stood there, frozen to the ground with fear, each gazing with wide-open eyes at the scene before him. Tajirika, A.G., Kahiga, and Njoya turned around to see what it was that had made them freeze.

“True!
Haki ja Mungu!”
A.C. would later tell his listeners. “Even the Ruler seemed shaken. Wouldn’t you if you saw termites building anthills on the floor and walls before your very eyes? The Ruler knew as I knew that this was the work of the Wizard of the Crow …”

With white termites multiplying ad nauseam in the room, the Ruler could no longer afford to ignore the powers of the Wizard of the Crow, a threat to his perceived omnipotence. This sorcerer had insulted him by calling him a woman, even claiming he was pregnant, had sparked the queuing mania, had inspired wives to rise against their husbands, and now this: an infinitude of white termites making mounds of earth inside his palace! This man could not be left free to roam the country. Neither could he be left with a power that the Ruler did not possess! He would have him apprehended and soften
him with flattery and promises till he revealed the secrets of his knowledge: how to cultivate money trees and divine through mirrors. Having incorporated the powers of the wizard into himself, the Ruler would have him thrown into a dungeon, fry the pig in his own fat, for the Ruler now intended nothing short of becoming sorcerer number one.

Heaving with rage and expectation, the Ruler ordered Kaniürü, Sikiokuu, and Machokali to stand up.

“Whoever has wax in his ears, dig it out so that you can hear clearly what I have to say. Machokali. Bring the Wizard of the Crow to me. With the assistance of SS Arigaigai Gathere, bring him to me not dead in a shroud but alive in chains. And to you three: From today on I want to see results. I want to see which of you will be first to complete his task!”

The competition to see who would come out on top in the three-way rivalry among Kaniürü, Sikiokuu, and Machokali would start in earnest, paling in intensity and expected outcome, next to their writing down of the pledge, about which the Ruler had said nothing. The prize for success, each thought, would be exhilarating, the cost of failure fatal.

He dismissed all except his newly appointed governor of the Central Bank. He felt good about the decisions made; he had finally started to take full control of events since the Global Bank mission and his own calamitous visit to America, returning empty-handed.

“And now, Governor Titus …” He smiled, welcoming Tajirika to the inner counsel.

One day a man on a motorcycle arrived at the police headquarters in Eldares, demanding to see the police chief urgently. His hair was down to his shoulders; his beard reached his knees. His clothes were more like rags and the paint on his beaten up motorcycle was long gone, though on closer scrutiny one might have imagined the color
red. Had he not shown his badge of office, nobody would have believed that he was a policeman: the police chief would not have wasted so much as a minute on him. Responding to puzzlement, he claimed that he was one of five police riders dispatched to all corners of the country to tell people about the virtues of queuing. When was this? he was asked, and he could not remember how long ago or how long he had been gone; all he knew was that he had been ordered by his superiors not to return without accomplishing his mission. When the bearded rider was asked about his four fellow riders, he said he did not know their fate, and that if they had not yet returned, he clearly had won the race. What race? the police chief asked. The race to prolong the queuing, of course. The bearded rider seemed irritated by what seemed pointless questions when he had more important news to deliver: that in the central region, school kids, following in the footsteps of the university students, were forming queues, not for food in the cafeteria but to demand additional books and teachers and an education that would teach them about their own country and its relation to the world. Were these old or new queues? To tell the truth, he said, there was no discernible difference between the old and the new, for all had neither beginning nor end. The police chief rushed the report to Sikiokuu, who rushed it to the Ruler, who at first reacted with an angry frown, as if to say, What is this nonsense you bring to me? But, recalling what the Global Bank in New York had told him, that there were people going around his country preaching the virtues of queuing, and considering that this had ended his visit abruptly and might even have cost him the loan for Marching to Heaven, and now, realizing that the agents for this sedition were members of his security team, he ordered the rider to face a firing squad and the Minister of Information, Big Ben Mambo, to announce this on the airwaves, as a warning to any other miscreants in his armed forces.

The rider would have been executed except for his pleas that they should not kill the Ruler’s messenger without reading a note he had sewn inside his jacket to ensure its safety. And, sure enough, the piece of paper was discovered, and when the police unfolded it, they saw its heading,
Messengers of the Ruler,
and a line below,
To My Messenger to the Central Region,
followed by a directive to the rider to tour the region spreading the gospel of queuing. It said that the Ruler
would be pleased with those who had heeded the call, and, most important, it ended with the Ruler’s clearly legible signature. The police chief referred the matter to Sikiokuu, who remembered writing such words and who took the piece of paper to the Ruler, who, when he saw that the signature was his, rescinded the earlier order and said that the rider should be told that the Ruler had felt mercy. The rider was to go away, shave, and cut his hair short, then take an indefinite leave without pay. The rider pleaded, pointing out that he had faithfully executed the spirit and letter of the Ruler’s command, setting in motion another round of consultations, after which he was assured that he could return to duty after several months of needed rest; he would be put under Kaniürü’s command as a road specialist in case it became necessary to track the students of the central region.

Kaniürü could not believe his luck. He had not known where or how he would start the search, but now? He hated university students with a passion, for their radicalism had deprived him of a good wife. If Nyawlra had not entered student politics, she might very well still be living under his protective wings. He dwelled on the news brought by the crazy rider. These students had been behind the snake incident at the aborted birthday ceremony. They were definitely behind the recent queuing mania. Kaniürü recalled that even the Ruler had said that students and youth caused the downfall of many a government. And all at once he saw the solution, simple but effective. Crush the university students, and all forms of queuing would come to an end. But how would he go about it? The students had been poisonously indoctrinated. Empty their heads of all foolishness and fill them with good and correct ideas supportive of the State. But how would the government go about this?