John Burkitt - The Spirit Quest

“Rafiki, mix a poultice quick!” Makedde rushed to the bleeding cub. “Oh Master Taka, what have you done now!”

Rafiki looked up. His favorite cub was suffering. “Oh gods!”

Makedde held up his hand on one side of Taka's head, then the other. "No sight on that side. This is bad. Very bad. But perhaps I can fix it."

Makedde got some moistened Alba from Rafiki and squeezed it on the ground. The dust became mud, and he took this mud carefully in his hand.

“These are badger marks,” Makedde said. “If I couldn’t see it, I could sure smell it.” He shook his head. “What on earth possessed you to play with the badgers? You know they are dangerous.”

“It was a white badger,” Taka said. “I wanted to get a wish, like N’ga and Sufa.”

“Oh I see.” He frowned. “You don’t know the difference between a white lioness and a white badger! So you wanted a wish, did you?”

“It was my idea,” Mufasa said. “When we died, I wanted my brother to sit by me with the great kings of the past.”

The remark misted Rafiki’s eyes.

“Noble sentiment indeed,” Makedde said, “but all living things are precious to Aiheu.”

Makedde packed Taka’s damaged eye with herbal mud, then pressed it carefully back into its socket. The eyeball had been lightly scratched but not punctured. Makedde washed away some of the mud a little at a time, then he sealed the edges of the cut with Dwe’dwe resin.

Rafiki brought a gourd of water for Taka to which Makedde added blood builders, pain killers and a disinfectant. A little honey went in to sweeten the mix, but not by much. “It won’t taste good, but it will feel good.”

Taka found the mixture hardly bearable, but he was terribly thirsty after losing so much blood in the heat. And it did feel good.

Sarabi asked, "Will that eye work again?"

"Rafiki," Makedde asked, "You heard the lady. What will come of Taka?"

Rafiki was nervous. He was as afraid of the answer as Taka was. It was his first time to scry for another, so he looked into the water thoughtfully, trying to remember all his brother taught him. A wind came out of the west and stirred the water. It carried with it the odor of decay. The ripples died down, and he gasped. "Wait, something appears. It tells me...."

"What?" Sarabi asked impatiently.

Rafiki stared into the water. A chill swept over him as he suddenly felt his spirit being seized within his own body by a tremendous force. “Makedde, help me!” he shouted, but no sound came out. He tried to show his distress by gestures, or even by a look of horror. He had no control of his own body, but apparently the spirit inside him did.

A deep voice came from inside him. “The road is long and hard. Those who smile to your face bare their teeth as you leave.” Rafiki felt himself leave the bowl and stoop in front of Taka. He fought but was weak and helpless as a newborn. Pointing an accusing finger, the spirit said, “Friends come from unlikely places, then abandon you in your hour of need. He who is first to touch you shall beget your doom, and she who gives you love shall let it turn to hate."

The prayer! Rafiki had forgotten the prayer of protection. “Mano!” he cried out in spirit. “Minshasa! Help me! Aiheu! Oh gods!”

"Rafiki!" Makedde shouted. "Control it! It’s an evil spirit!"

“Anger is your only salvation,” the spirit muttered, gripping Taka by the fur of his cheek. “Arm yourself with cruel hate. Take what is yours, for it shall not be freely given.”

Taka broke away and tried to hide behind Sarabi and Mufasa, crouching low and trembling. “No! It’s not so! Tell me it’s not so!”

“Stop it!” Makedde shook him violently. “Stop it in the name of the gods!”

Rafiki looked wild-eyed as if he’d seen a ghost. He could move--he could speak! It took him a few moments to fully come to himself. “Brother! Oh gods, what happened to me?? I could not control myself. I was a stick, and some hand was swinging me!”

Mufasa’s jaw was slack with horror. "Is this going to happen for sure? Can’t we stop it?"

Rafiki was as weak as a newborn kitten. He crawled behind Muffy and Sassie to look at the cringing Taka. “Don’t be afraid, my son. It’s gone! I didn’t say those things!” He stroked Taka and wept. “Oh gods, that was not me speaking. That was not me! I love you. I would never say such things. You must love, always love, the way I love you. Forgive me. Please forgive me!”

"My brother did not know what he was saying," Makedde said. " Smell the reek of death in the air? If you forget to pray for protection, evil spirits come to speak, and they use a half-truth to work mischief. When I can see you alone, Taka, I'll tell your future and I will do it right."

Taka wept. "Do they really hate me?"

"No, Taka," Mufasa said. "We all love you, even if you do get in trouble all the time."

"But what if it's right?" Sarabi asked. "I mean if its a half-truth, doesn’t that mean half of it is true?"

"None of it’s true," Mufasa said. He touched Taka’s shoulder with his paw. "There--I'm the first one to touch you. I'm your bestest friend in the world, so you don't have to worry any more."

"And I'm the one that loves you most," Sarabi said. "When we grow up, I'm going to marry you."

Taka smiled. "I can see you! I can see you with both eyes!" He nuzzled her. "You would never hurt me, would you, Sassie?"

"Never! Not in a million years."

After the cubs had left, Rafiki crawled to the wall of the baobab where he rested his head and wept. “Poor little child! Don’t let them hurt him! Please don’t let them hurt him! I would give him the blood of mercy! I would die for him!”

“Rafiki, are you all right?”

“Who cares! Is Taka all right??”

“Do you think so?”

"Brother, I'm afraid there is more than half truth to this.”

"I know," Makedde said. "But sometimes it is from the telling that the prophesy comes true. You did not pray for guidance first--you left yourself unprotected. Evil spirits just wait for chances like this. They speak their piece, filling innocent little heads with foul thoughts to stir up trouble. Sometimes silence is the wisest prophesy of all."

Rafiki hung his head. "I am so ashamed. Can't I undo it, brother? Is there nothing I can do?"

Makedde went back to the scrying pool. He looked deeply into the water, praying first to Mano and Minshasa for protection. Then there was a gentle breeze from the east and on the wind was wafted the comforting scent of wild honey. The wind stirred the surface of the water, and after it had passed, the power of the holy pair had dispelled the shadows.

Makedde stared like one in a trance. “Rafiki, if you would hear the words of Aiheu, pay attention. For a little truth is like a little branch that will not reach to the choice fruit.”

The young mandrill fell on his face. “Speak, Lord.”

“A spirit has entered your world. The evil which you have set free, you must also bind. All the years of your life shall you toil to undo a careless moment. Milk and mud join quickly, but do they separate quickly? Your words have made the milk unfit to drink, yet I have not forsaken you. For if milk and mud are my creations, I can appoint whom I please to separate them, and it will be done.”

Makedde gently helped Rafiki to his feet and helped him climb up a large branch to a fork near the top of the huge baobab. Here, the branches had interwoven tightly, forming a kind of nook in which he sat down.

Cupping his chin in his hand reflectively, Rafiki sat silently, feeling the great tree sway beneath him, listening to the wind whisper past his ears, and watched the sun track its way across the great dome of the sky.

Some hours later, the twinkling stars emerged from their daytime hiding places to find him still there, unmoving. The gentle breeze had turned cold with the passage of the sun, but the mandrill sat shivering, and made no move to go below.