Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

“You will be most welcome. I sincerely hope you land a job,” Nyawlra said, turning serious as she picked up her handbag.

At the door, she turned to look back at him.

“Don’t forget to take down your bundle of magic, unless you want to continue advertising that here dwelt, for one night, the mighty wizard whose power brought down all birds, even crows, from the sky!”

By the time Nyawlra reached the premises of Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate, her boss, Titus Tajirika, was already there. Her office, which also served as reception, adjoined his, and before taking her place she went to announce her arrival to him. Tajirika was engrossed in the Eldares Times, so she stood awkwardly at the doorway, wondering if she should clear her throat to attract his attention. She could tell that he was angry, obviously not with her but with what he was reading. Tajirika was in fact aware of her presence and soon began to unburden himself.

“These beggars are just too much,” he started telling Nyawlra, who was relieved that he did not ask her why she was late. “I don’t know what should be done with them. How dare they stretch out their hands at the very same place where their own government was…” He was going to say “stretching out its hands” but he did not like the sound of it, and checked himself. “… busy entertaining very important guests?”

“I have not seen the papers,” Nyawlra said. “What happened?”

“Well, we the hosts and guests were inside Paradise, so we did not actually hear the commotion outside. In fact, if it were not for these newspapers-why for goodness’ sake did this paper feel it necessary to mention anything about those rioting beggars, giving them publicity for nothing?” He held the paper in his left hand and pointed at the offending column with his right, his face twisted in disgust and contemptuous incomprehension.

Nyawlra craned her neck and saw the banner headlines: BEGGARS IN PARADISE. She also caught a glimpse of the picture of beggars running away just a few yards ahead of baton-wielding police officers but did not want to show an undue interest by moving closer to the table. As Tajirika was talking, she did not want to interrupt him.

“That is why I have always said that the government should ban all newspapers. We can do without them. Before the colonials came to this land, didn’t our ancestors live to a ripe old age without ever reading a newspaper? They are a curse, these newspapers, but if I was asked what was at the root of last night’s fracas, I would answer with one word: envy. Those beggars must have been sent there by our political enemies to blemish the reception. Do you know that there are ministers who are very envious of my friend Machokali simply because he is a man who can see far? Let me tell you what is wrong with us black people. Unlike Indians and Europeans, we lack group solidarity. We hate to see one of us succeed.”

Nyawlra thought that this was the perfect moment to milk information.

“Did the Bank agree to bankroll Marching to Heaven?” she asked.

Her sympathetic curiosity touched him, and he responded with an alacrity that surprised her.

“Why are you standing? Pull up a chair and sit down.”

Tajirika sat up, ready to pour out everything about the reception in detail, especially his own role in it. Their interest in his narrative was mutual, and the telephone, which rang at that very moment, irritated both. Nyawlra made as if to go and take the call in her office, but Tajirika, not wanting to lose his audience for a second, told her to answer the phone from his desk.

“Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate. May I help you?… Yes… But may I please know who is calling?… Your name?… Hold, please… Let me see if he is in.” She covered the mouthpiece. “It’s for you.”

“Who is it?”

“He is not saying. He wants to speak to you personally, and he says it’s urgent.”

Tajirika grumpily snatched the handset, annoyed by the interference. “Congratulations? For what?… Today?” he asked, his sourness gone as he stood up and walked away from the chair while holding the phone to his ear. “On the radio?… The morning news?… Are you sure?… I think we’d better not talk about that on the telephone… Yes… Yes… Why don’t you come to the office?… Yes… We shall talk.”

As soon as he put the phone down it rang again; this time he himself quickly picked it up.

“Yes… Thank you… Come to the office.”

It rang a third, a fourth, and a fifth time, and he gave the same response: Come to the office. He glanced at the window and walked toward it, whistling and beckoning Nyawlra to join him there.

She staggered at what she saw. The road leading to their place of business was jammed with cars, the latest models of all makes, but mostly Mercedes-Benzes.

“What is this all about?” Nyawlra exclaimed, looking directly at Tajirika.

Rapt in thought, Tajirika paced the office, then stopped, looked at Nyawlra, and, in a somewhat tremulous voice, said, “This is one of the greatest days of my life, if not the greatest ever. You might think of it as the day I was born again. This morning Minister Machokali announced that he has recommended and the Ruler himself has agreed that I should become the first chairman of the Marching to Heaven Building Committee. Do you know what that means? You don’t, I can see it in your face, but those people you see in those cars all know the meaning and financial implications of that position. Every one of them wants to introduce himself to me- make my acquaintance is the phrase they will all use. But, as you can see, most of them did not even bother to call-they came immediately. I am sharing this with you because since you joined my firm you have brought me nothing but luck. Oh, no, not another call of congratulations! No. Just let the phone ring. I want you to go to your office, receive the visitors, and show them to my office one by one. Keep answering the telephone and making appointments in the usual way. This is manna from Heaven,” he said in English, as if loudly talking to himself.

Nyawlra hurried back to her office as Tajirika, sitting at his desk, struck the pose of an executive immersed in paperwork. Soon the reception area was packed, with an even bigger crowd outside trying to get in. And the telephone kept ringing. Nearly overwhelmed, she quickly worked out a solution. She wrote on two pieces of paper MAKE A QUEUE: NO SERVICE FOR THOSE NOT IN THE QUEUE. She pasted one on the wall inside and the other on the outside.

The people pushed and shoved, hurling insults at one another as each tried to move up the queue, like children, Nyawlra thought, and all this for the sake of an introduction to the chairman? The dignitaries, all from Eldares itself, were of different communities, nationalities, races, and each wanted to meet with Tajirika face-to-face, and alone. Nyawlra let them into Tajirika’s office, one at a time.

The first dignitary stayed for only a few minutes, but he must have had his needs met, because when he came out he was beaming. It was the same with the second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on. A few minutes with the chairman, and they all seemed in possession of a little happiness as they returned to their Mercedes-Benzes. Tajirika the sharer of happiness with all who came to see him! How was that possible, Nyawlra wondered.

Nyawlra, who had been ushering visitors into Tajirika’s office, taking down names, arranging files, and answering calls, was soon able to figure out what was happening. Each one was pitching business as a subcontractor for Marching to Heaven and hoped to be looked upon favorably. Whether they offered to supply cement, wood, nails, toilet paper, food, or drinks, they talked and behaved as if they knew for sure that the Global Bank had released the money for the project.