William Kamkwamba - The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind

One day, after hearing another of my pathetic stories, Shabani took me aside.

“Every day you’re complaining about these bullies, and I’m tired of hearing it,” he said. “I can give you mangolomera . You can become the strongest boy in school. All the others will fear you.”

Of course, possessing superpowers was my most frequent daydream. I’d imagine myself a Goliath on the soccer pitch, with legs like rocket launchers. With mangolomera, bullies would crumble at my touch and wet themselves from fright.

My father had always warned us against playing with magic. Now as Shabani stood there, smiling like a mongoose, I saw my father looking down at me, standing next to Jesus. I then felt my head shaking yes, and my mouth beginning to move.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take it.”

“We’ll do it in the blue gums behind Geoffrey’s house,” Shabani said. “Meet me there in one hour, and bring twenty tambala.”

I arrived in the forest first and waited in the dark shadows, my mind racing with all the possibilities. Shabani then appeared through the trees. He held a black jumbo that sagged at the bottom, containing something heavy, something powerful.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yah, I’m ready.”

“Then sit down.”

We sat down in the dirt and leaves and he opened the bag.

“We’ll start with your left hand, cutting the knuckles and inserting the medicine into your veins. Then we’ll do the right.”

“Why the left hand first?”

“You’re right-handed, man. Your right hand is the strongest. I’m giving you equal power, so your punches will be deadly from both sides.”

“Oh.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out a matchbox.

“In here are the blackened bones of the lion and leopard, along with other powerful roots and herbs.”

He fished out a wad of paper that contained more black ash, which he began mixing with the other potion.

“These other materials are very scarce, found only on the bottom of the ocean.”

“So how did you get them?” I asked.

“Look boy, I’m not just another person. I got them from the bottom of the ocean.”

“Okay.”

“I stayed there for three whole days. If I wanted to, I could take every person in your stupid village and put them into my scarf and sling them over my shoulder. Don’t play around with me, bambo . If you want this kind of power, it will cost you lots of money. What I’m giving you is only a small taste.”

I didn’t even see him pull out the razor. It just suddenly appeared, and before I knew it, he’d grabbed my left hand and dug into my first knuckle.

“Ahh!” I screamed.

“Be still and don’t cry!” he said. “If you cry it won’t work.”

“I’m not crying.”

One by one, my knuckles began to swell with bright drops of blood that poured down my hand. Pinching the powder between his fingers, he rubbed it into the bloody wounds. It stung like hot coals. Once he finished with both hands, I exhaled with relief.

“See, I didn’t cry,” I said. “Do you still think it will work?”

“Oh yeah, it will work.”

“When? When will I have power?’

He considered this for a second and said, “Give it three days to work its way through your veins. Once it’s complete, you’ll feel it.”

“Three days.”

“Yes, and whatever you do, don’t eat okra or sweet potato leaves.”

“I’ll remember,” I said.

“And lastly, tell no one,” he added.

I walked out of the forest, looking down at my wounded, blackened hands, which by now had begun to swell. They looked tough. I imagined my arms swinging heavy at my sides like two thick hoe handles. A rush of confidence filled my lungs.

That evening, I hid in my room and spoke to no one. I went to bed feeling good. I’m a big man now, I thought, drifting off to sleep. A big man .

Three days was a long time to wait, but it worked with my plan. It was summer holiday, and the following morning I was supposed to travel to Dowa to spend time with my grandparents. Dowa was the perfect place to polish my powers before returning home a legend.

Well, three days crept by so slowly I thought I might die from boredom. I loved my grandparents dearly, but there wasn’t much to do at their house. As I said, my grandmother was a tough lady who’d made her own bricks and was always putting me to work.

On the fourth day, I awoke and immediately felt different. Sitting up in bed, my arms felt light, yet hard as tree trunks. My hands were as solid as two stones. Heading outside, I took off running down the road to test my speed. Sure enough, I felt the wind in my face like never before.

That afternoon my uncle Mada invited me to watch a District League soccer game at the town pitch, and I went in hopes of testing my powers. The game was Dowa Medicals versus Agriculture, and as expected, the place was packed. As is our custom, the women looked after the children on one side of the field, while the men and boys huddled closely on the other, smoking cigarettes and shouting insults at the officials.

I had no interest in the game. I scanned the crowd until I saw a boy, perhaps my age, standing near the far corner of the pitch. He appeared to be alone, so I made my move. I cut through the crowd toward him, and as I walked past, I crushed his bare feet with my sandal. He let out a cry.

“Excuse me, you just stepped on my toes!” he shouted, hopping in pain.

I looked at him with two dead eyes.

“I said you stepped on my toes. It hurt.”

“So?” I said.

“Well, it’s rude, don’t you think?”

“What are you going do about it?”

“What am I going to do?”

“You heard me. Why don’t you do something, kape .” A kape is a drooling idiot.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I’m going to beat you.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

We began dancing around in circles, and I wasted no time. I unleashed a flurry of punches so fast my arms became a blur in front of my eyes. I gave him lefts and rights and uppercuts for good measure, my two iron fists moving so quickly I couldn’t even feel them smashing his face. Not wanting to kill the poor chap (I’d forgotten my potato vines), I finally backed away. But to my amazement, the boy was still standing. Not only was he standing, he was laughing!

Before I could release another deadly round, I felt a terrible pain in my right eye, then another, and another. Soon I was lying on the ground while his fists pounded my head and face, and his foot stomped my stomach. By the time my uncle raced over and pulled him off me, I was crying and covered in dust.

“What are you doing, William?” my uncle shouted. “You know better than to fight. This boy is twice your size!”

Humiliated beyond anything I could imagine, I ran home to my grandparents and stayed inside until it was time to go home. And once there, I immediately found Shabani and confronted him.

“Your magic doesn’t work! You promised me power, but I was beaten in Dowa!”

“Of course it works,” he said, then thought for a second. “Listen, did you bathe the day I gave it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s why. My medicine doesn’t allow you to bathe.”

“You never said that.”

“Of course I did.”

“But…”

As you can see, I was clearly cheated. My first and only experience with magic had left me with a sore eye and hands that throbbed from bad medicine. With my luck, I thought, they’ll probably become infected and fall off. I began imagining myself a handless beggar in the market, unable to even use the bathroom. The fear of this occupied my mind for hours at a time. I’m telling you, it would be terrible!