Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

The Wizard of the Crow was puzzled, for though they spoke in earnest, what they said did not make sense. Did he hear right that the money he had buried in the prairie had given birth to three dollar-producing plants, later eaten by an army of strange-looking termites, allegedly sent by him to the State House?

“You did a good thing to send the termites,” they told him. “The Ruler has not a grain of gratitude in him.”

They became a nuisance. If he moved a step back, they moved with him, and if he turned they did the same, each clinging to his chosen ear.

It was a Sunday morning, and with the cathedral seething with worshippers, the hymns and prayers above incongruously interacted with the ceaseless whispering around his ears.

And then suddenly came an even more jarring note: the sound of a bullhorn.

“We know the sound of that bullhorn,” added Kahiga. “Please, tell us the secret,” he pleaded urgently.

“You can surely save our families with just a few words,” added Njoya.

“Please tell us the secret of growing money,” they urged him in unison.

At long last it was out. So all of them, the Ruler, Tajirika, and these two, were after the secret of money growing on trees? But that thought was now superceded by the more immediate worry of what they said about the bullhorn.

Just then the cat meowed again, twice. It had come back to him. And then he saw Maritha and Mariko at the far end of the basement beckoning him to follow.

All at once he made a decision. In the past he had escaped from many a tight situation because of words. His words. But now he had trapped himself inside a wordless silence. Who was he, without a voice?

“Leave me alone,” the Wizard of the Crow suddenly said, just to get Njoya and Kahiga away from his ears and also prevent them from following him farther.

The startled pair moved back a step but when it suddenly dawned on them that the Wizard of the Crow had actually spoken, they rushed back to his side and set their ears close to his mouth. He did not disappoint them.

“It is unnatural for money to give birth to money” he said irritably. “Banks alone know the secret of money producing money. They hide the secret in ledger books and computer screens. I am now going for the word of God,” he said in a tone of finality, and began to move.

Njoya and Kahiga brimmed over with joy. Was that why Tajirika had started Mwathirika Ltd.?

“Here!” shouted Njoya as he and Kahiga ran after him.

“We promised your assistant, remember?” said Kahiga, pulling a small plastic bag out of his pocket. “In our joy, we almost forgot.”

“Your fallen hair,” said Njoya, as he and Kahiga headed for the exit.

In those days church and mosque attendance had gone up considerably, mainly because many religious centers preached and prayed for the banishment of Satan, who had come to stand for all that was wrong with the country. Some religious leaders had strongly defended the right of free assembly and had become heroes of the new democratic surge.

No religious center attracted more people of so many persuasions as All Saints Cathedral. Orthodox and non-Orthodox, Christian and non-Christian, all made their way to the place. Debates about the origins of the cathedral’s popularity still rage to this day.

Some said it stemmed from when Maritha and Mariko told weekly stories of their strange desires and their battles with Satan, pointing out that many of those who first came to the cathedral to hear of the couple’s temptations had joined the church even after the pair had stopped baring their hearts.

Others asserted that the church’s rise started long before the confessions of Maritha and Mariko, tracing its beginnings to the Sunday when Bishop Kanogori chased away the daemons that the Ruler, riding a donkey in imitation of Christ, had brought into the building.

Yet others insisted that one did not have to go beyond the personality of Bishop Kanogori himself. His reputation for voicing in the light of day the many concerns whispered at night had spread so wide and far that some even believed that he spoke with God. Many went there just to hear his interpretations of the Bible. One of his most popular was his rendering of the Sermon on the Mount, and when he declaimed, in a slightly tremulous voice, that the poor shall inherit the Earth, sighs of agreement could clearly be heard all over the place.

It is said that the Ruler did not like his outspokenness, and so when some thugs raided his house one evening and roughed him up, everybody in Aburlria assumed the State House was responsible. The thugs had warned him to keep his mouth shut or else.

But Bishop Kanogori did not; instead, he begged his congregation to pray for his attackers so that they might emerge from darkness into light. His church would always be open to receive them. This declaration was met with disbelief and uncertainty. It was one thing to forgive those who have sinned against us; another to welcome them into the building.

The cathedral had also started attracting crowds from the People’s Assembly outside Parliament and the law courts, as well as the media. Kanogori’s sermons, albeit in truncated form, started appearing in the papers.

One Sunday, when the bishop was in the middle of prayer, a bullhorn outside was heard making a strange demand. At first the worshippers ignored the bullhorn’s interruption; they remained on their knees, their eyes shut in prayer. But when the demand was repeated, people opened their eyes as the bishop rushed to conclude what he was saying. Those packed near the windows and outside the door were first to scream. The cathedral was surrounded by armed police. Marksmen had climbed the trees, their guns trained on the compound. The operations officer, Wonderful Tumbo himself, stood atop an armored car; through his bullhorn he ordered everyone to go inside; any who tried to escape would be shot on sight. The entire congregation was to remain inside until Bishop Kanogori delivered the fugitive: the Wizard of the Crow.

Bishop Kanogori asked his followers to be orderly and peaceful. He was sure there had been a misunderstanding and it would all be cleared up once he spoke to the officer in charge. He had no idea what the police were talking about. Who was this Wizard of the Crow? Why would he be in the cathedral? Wonderful Tumbo told Bishop Kanogori that he was not in the mood for evasiveness. The church had to surrender the sorcerer or face the consequences.

The Bishop went back to the altar and asked the congregation if there was a sorcerer among them. Their solemnity broke; they laughed. He called upon all the sorcerers who might be in the congregation to see the error of their ways and repent. Anybody who genuinely repented would no longer be a sorcerer; if they were sorcerers before setting foot inside the church, they no longer were, having been born again in Christ.

And that is what he told Wonderful Tumbo: that the church was God’s abode. Outside was subject to earthly powers. Neither Bishop

Kanogori nor Officer Tumbo would give an inch, and people feared that the standoff would end in bloodshed. The officer had been on the phone with the Ruler. So when he proclaimed his ultimatum, everyone knew that it had the backing of the State House. All Saints had one hour to give up the sorcerer, and after that the police would storm the holy abode.

Then Maritha and Mariko stood up, and there was silence all around. They asked if they could speak to the bishop alone. People thought that Maritha and Mariko were intent on recounting a new episode in their battle with Satan. I thought their battle with the Tempter was over, some whispered among themselves. Even the bishop told them to please hold back their testimony until after the crisis was over. In the meantime, would everybody please close their eyes so that we can ask the good Lord for a peaceful end to the situation?