Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

Kamltl staggered toward the door. But even before he reached it, a few listeners had blurted, This drunk has spoken the truth. There is something not right about this country. Then they suddenly ceased to speak, so mesmerized were they by what was unfolding before them. The storyteller, shaking with terror, was running, trying to catch up to the drunk.

“Wizard of the Crow,” the storyteller called out. “Don’t you remember me? I am Arigaigai Gathere, alias A.G.”

Still more wonders were to come. A man who had just arrived at the bar called out: “Wizard of the Crow! I am Elijah Njoya, the one who took you to the airport, remember?”

Kamltl showed no sign of recognition.

The roar of a motorcycle outside was heard, and within seconds its rider was standing at the door, panting. “Wizard of the Crow,” he said, “I am Peter Kahiga. You remember me, don’t you?”

Kamltl did not so much as open his mouth.

The three men, A.G., Kahiga, and Njoya, now said in unison: You are wanted at the State House!

But Kamltl wa Karlmlri, alias the Wizard of the Crow, did not seem to hear the trio but continued staggering toward the door, followed by the three police, who were in turn followed by the bar crowd. He went outside, stumbled a bit along the road, stopped, and threw up on the grass by the roadside. He fell and lay in the vomit; almost immediately he started snoring.

A.G., Njoya, and Kahiga, who had trooped behind the Wizard of the Crow, now fell into sharp disagreement, each claiming to have been first to apprehend the wizard and that it was his right to take the sorcerer back to the boss who had ordered their mission. Those who watched from a safe distance say that the bickering among the three got so bad that they took out their guns and would have shot one another had they not reached a compromise. They would bypass Sikiokuu, Machokali, and Kaniürü and take the Wizard of the Crow directly to the Ruler at the State House, and they agreed that on account of A.G.’s seniority-he was SS while they were ASSes-A.G. should call the State House to alert the Ruler of his prized trophy. When they reached the State House, they would call their respective bosses on mobile phones and inform them of the fait that was about to become accompli. That way none of the three bosses would have the advantage of prior knowledge over the others and the three officers themselves would get all the credit for handing over the wizard.

For his part, the Wizard of the Crow heard none of this. He showed no sign of consciousness, not even when tied to the backseat of A.G.’s motorcycle. With Njoya in front and Kahiga at the rear, the three motorcyclists zoomed triumphantly toward the State House.

Those left behind at the bar fell into a heated dispute as to what had just happened, each trying to impose his version on others, all except one, who hid behind the door, clutching a cross-shaped walking stick as if to defend himself, his mind absorbed by the drama outside. He was Mr. Walking Stick, a wanderer from bar to bar after he had heard Kamltl teil how he had once floated in the sky while his body reposed on a dumpsite. Now the very apparition he had tried to avoid had found him. Stricken with terror, as soon as he saw the motorcycles vanish in the distance, he quietly left the bar, clutching his walking stick, not quite believing his own luck. Once on the road he started running in the opposite direction.

He ran for seven days and nights without resting until he reached his destination, the Santalucia headquarters of the Soldiers of Christ. Exhausted, he collapsed at the feet of the Christian soldiers, and it took them a while to decipher what he was trying to tell them.

“I am one of the three garbage collectors that Satan once ambushed at a dumpsite in the prairie a couple of years ago. You remember me? Much has happened since. We three took different measures to protect ourselves from the Evil One. One joined your group, armed as you always are with the Bible and the cross and the word of the Lord on high. Another, the driver, sought protection from the Mighty s Youth, with their guns and whips and the mandate from the Ruler. But I did a foolish thing. I tried to hide wherever people gather to drink. With my walking stick I would defend myself against any sudden Satanic mischief, I thought. What can I say? I first saw and heard him boasting where I used to drink regularly, and I said, You will never see me again, for from now on I shall be on the move all the time, never drinking at the same place twice. Well, I was wrong, because, lost to alcohol, I did not know that Satan would follow me from bar to bar; no matter where I hid, he would find me. He finally caught up with me. Well, let me tell you. I had a narrow escape. Had it not been for this cross-shaped walking stick, he would have seen me and I would not now be here to bear witness that I have seen with my own eyes the very Satan who appeared before us at the dumpsite in the prairie. I am here to say that I have converted. All these years past, I have foolishly sought solace in booze. Now I need the support of Jesus. I want to become a Soldier of Christ.”

As they were not so sure about this man, they sent for Sweeper-of-Souls, who was overjoyed at seeing his former workmate. They embraced, and this touching scene confirmed to the others what had already been revealed to them: that the newcomer was a messenger from Christ sent to lead them to Satan’s hiding place. They received him as one of them and baptized him Soul’s Walking Stick.

“Where is he?” the Soldiers of Christ asked him after the baptism. “Where did he go? Where can we find him?”

“You will never believe this,” said Soul’s Walking Stick. “Three hell riders on red, black, and golden motorbikes took him to the Ruler at the State House.”

“Does he think he can hide in there?” one of them asked.

They would keep watch on all the roads to the State House with a view to capturing him as he came out, no doubt having led the Ruler astray like that time when Satan had forced the Ruler to go to the All Saints Cathedral riding a donkey in imitation of Christ. But they must take care not to draw hostile curiosity that could abort their plans. They were as adamant as ever: arrest Satan, drag him through the streets of Eldares, and then put him on trial.

A.C. tells a slightly different version of what happened at the bar they called Sell-Me-Death. According to him, the Wizard of the Crow was not drunk with alcohol; he was simply overwhelmed by a vision of all the evils he saw before the land; his throwing up on the grass by the roadside was his way of saying that the land needed cleansing. Otherwise, in his narrative A.G. is short on details about the episode, and there are things he is not able to explain. When pressed by some spoilsports who do not know a good story when they hear one-what was the Wizard of the Crow doing in a cheap bar that served poison? they wanted to know-he would answer rather cryptically: Remember Jesus? Muhammed? They dwelled among the poor.

What he tells with more clarity and authority was how the three motorcyclists, of whom he had been one, stopped at the graveyard of All Saints Cathedral before reaching the State House to call their respective bosses on their mobile phones, simultaneously informing them that the wizard was in tow.

At the agreed-upon time, A.C. had quickly dialed Machokali’s number to tell him the news. A.C. emphasizes how happy the minister sounded, that A.C. had never heard him exude such joy.

“True! Haki ya Mungu. I knew the minister quite well, nearly all his moods. He and I were in America together, remember? He and I used to share meals, and it was he and I who went to receive the Wizard of the Crow at the AIA, the American International Airport. So when I tell you that he was unusually happy on hearing that I had successfully completed the task assigned to me, you’d better believe me. Imagine that even when I told him that Njoya and Kahiga had unfairly claimed a share of the credit, harvesting where they never planted, Machokali did not seem upset that his rivals, Sikiokuu and Kaniürü, would partake of the glory”