Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

“But you cannot say for sure that they did not know each other?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you never heard Nyawlra mention his name afterward?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you can say with absolute certainty that it was somebody else who had sent the sorcerer to your office to look for work? And as for this somebody, his real interest was to start the queuing mania?”

“Yes, that’s how it seems to me when I piece things together.”

Sikiokuu paused as if pondering what Tajirika had said. He felt malicious joy within, but he did not want to show it. Sikiokuu found Tajirika precisely how he had always wanted him to be: a supplicant in search of mercy and forgiveness. There were a few dots, though, that had yet to be connected. What was the connection, if any, between Nyawlra and the Wizard of the Crow? Why would the Wizard of the Crow want to pretend that he was looking for a job? More investigations were necessary. What pleased him most was that Tajirika had agreed finally that the queues had not simply sprung up, that somebody had started them according to a plan. The mastermind had to be rooted out.

“Mr. Tajirika, listen to me. I am not going to lie to you. You are in a lot of trouble. But I am going to help you. Let’s first agree on the facts. You don’t deny that the queuing started outside your office?”

“That’s correct.”

“And now you have stated firmly, unequivocally, that it is your belief and even calculation that the whole thing was a plot? And that somebody was behind it?”

“Yes.”

“Now, we know that the somebody is not me. It is not you. We know the somebody was not the Wizard of the Crow, because you do admit that he was only a messenger. What concerns us all is the identity of the mastermind. That’s why the Ruler set up a Commission of Inquiry with Mr. Kaniürü as the chairman. So you see that when you refused to obey the summons, whatever your reason, you were actually disobeying the Ruler. See my point?”

“Yes. Help me; please do whatever you can to make sure that this matter does not reach the ears of the Ruler.”

“God helps those who help themselves, and we shall soon find out how far you are prepared to help yourself. For my part, I can make sure that the confessions you make in this office will be sent to the Commission of Inquiry to be made part of its records. It will seem as if you had indeed appeared before that august body freely and willingly, or that you had made a written submission to it. Either way, you will seem to have fully cooperated with the commission; your having defied a legitimate summons, broken the law, and challenged the Ruler’s authority would no longer be the case. In return for that favor, you will promise that you will never mention to anybody that you were arrested or that you spent time in a cell. And all talk of Thomas and Descartes must end.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sikiokuu. Thank you,” Tajirika said. “Do not worry about those sects. I do not belong to any”

“Okay! Let’s proceed and see if we can identify the criminal mastermind. You have already said that you think that there is a connection between the wizard’s search for a job and your malady of words. In both cases the Wizard of the Crow was instrumental, so we can assume that the person behind his search for employment and the one behind your affliction are one and the same. Now tell me, did you manage to solve the riddle of the three words? Did you figure out who really infected you with the virus of white-ache?”

“Any of us could have given another the affliction,” Tajirika said, without realizing that he was repeating part of the conversation he had had with the Wizard of the Crow about the three words. “I’m not the only one who may have suffered from the disease.”

“In short, what you are saying is that somebody else infected you with the illness?”

“Perhaps.”

“Forget perhaps. Whom do you suspect? Friends? Maybe your friend Machokali?” Sikiokuu asked, a little irritated at being forced to voice the name.

“He could have. The trouble, if you followed my argument, is that even you could have done so.”

“Leave my name out of this, Tajirika! What you are trying to say is that Machokali gave you the virus. Do you still doubt this?”

“How can I doubt anything? You told me to forget Thomas Descartes.”

“So you have no doubt that it was Machokali who infected you with the virus?”

“I am still trying to figure out who else could have given me the germs. The way I now understand it is that the higher we climb in our circle the more vulnerable we become to the virus of white-ache as both carriers and recipients. So you see that even you, Mr. Minister…”

“Mr. Tajirika, I really thought you were serious about helping, but I see you are still playing games,” Sikiokuu said icily.

“I am sorry, Mr. Minister, but I mentioned you as an example only. I wanted to say that the only person with whom I socialized and who obviously belongs to a rank higher than mine is Machokali, and it is possible…”

“… that you heard him say ‘if’?” Sikiokuu completed his thought for him.

“Yes,” Tajirika said. “Or, it is possible…”

“… that you heard his desire for higher office, his wishing that someday he might become, say, president?”

“Not directly. But because he is a politician, it is not impossible to imagine that he may have, once or twice, said that if this happens then that could happen, or if it had been he who was…”

“… holding the highest seat of office in the land?”

“Yes. Something like that. But is there a politician who does not harbor those dreams?”

“Mr. Tajirika, do you know that what you are saying is very serious? That it is against the law to wish or dream of ever becoming president as long as the Buler himself is alive? Treason, in fact?”

“Yes. You might say so.”

“Let’s be clear about this. Have you harbored those thoughts, wishes, or dreams?”

“Me, ruler of Aburiria? Oh, no, no! Even for a parliamentary seat or a ministerial post, I have no ambition. My main and only interest in life is making money. Give me a prosperous business, and you will see a very satisfied man.”

“I believe you,” said Sikiokuu, as if congratulating him for his lack of political ambition. You love riches and this is borne out by the fact that it was only after you learned that your destiny as a white man was to be poor that your white-ache got cured.”

“That’s right. The jingle of coins in the pocket is beautiful music. As for political office, I leave it to you ministers…”

“Look, Tajirika, let’s not be like two bulls circling each other, reluctant to engage. Here I am the only bull in the kraal. So stop skirting the issue. Get to the point. What you are trying to say is that Machokali used to say something like…?”

“If he had more power. Like all politicians, yes. Isn’t that what we were saying just now?”

“You mean what you were saying!”

“He might have expressed a wish for even higher office, like all politicians.”

“But we are not talking about all politicians, are we?”

“I agree. We are talking singular, not plural.”

“You are now talking good grammar. You do agree that two people cannot hold the same office at the same time?”

“That’s true.”

“So when a politician eyes a seat held by another he can only be saying: I wish the incumbent were swallowed by the earth! I wish he would disappear or be made to disappear.”

“As you say!”

“Not as I say, as you say. Mr. Tajirika, what you are saying is vital to the security and well-being of this nation. Would you be willing to put in writing what you just said, or repeat it before the Commission of Inquiry?”