Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

All the rumors, however, agreed that some police had been dispatched to Nyawlra’s workplace with a warrant for her arrest.

Two of the policemen, with Kaniürü as their informant, sat at separate tables in the Mars Cafe, waiting to pounce on Nyawlra on her way to the offices of Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate. Three in plainclothes were deployed at strategic points around the area. Perched in his accustomed corner, reading or trying to read a newspaper, Kaniürü was so conscious of the weight of the task entrusted to him that it took him a while to realize that he was holding the newspaper upside down.

The recent drama at the dedication of the site for Marching to Heaven had given Kaniürü the opening he had sought all these years to ingratiate himself properly with the powers that be, and he seized it with alacrity. He placed a direct call to Sikiokuu in the Ruler’s office.

The minister could not believe the good fortune coming from the other end of the line. He felt a guardian angel had come to his rescue even as he was drowning. He recalled vividly how as they left the scene of the drama the Ruler had called him aside and in an icy tone had asked rhetorically, How could so shameful a scandal have taken place without the ears, eyes, and noses of the State having even an inkling? I shall need a convincing explanation at the next cabinet meeting, the Ruler had warned him in English, and Sikiokuu had been in Aburlrian politics long enough to know that this amounted to a death sentence.

Days later, Sikiokuu had locked himself in his office, desperately trying to figure things out but all in vain. Unless fate intervened, his days were numbered. And then came the telephone call from Kaniürü. In all the time he had dealt with his numerous informers, none had ever given him information that made him so tremble with relief and anticipation. Sikiokuu could hear the words clearly but kept on asking Kaniürü to repeat them: Am I hearing right? You know some of the women? Oh, you don’t know if she is the leader? Ah, a follower of the movement? Boy, if we catch her, the latest Mercedes is yours. Oh, we’ll put such a squeeze on her that she will shit out everything she knows, he told Kaniürü as he summoned him to his office.

Sikiokuu would have wanted to be present at the moment of Nyawlra’s arrest, but he feared to be absent should the Ruler call an emergency cabinet meeting concerning the affair. In any event, it would be a little undignified for a cabinet minister to participate in the arrest of a common secretary deluded into anarchy, no doubt, by a cunning lover. After his face-to-face with Kaniürü, Sikiokuu decided that he did not trust the local police of Santamaria with the task of arresting Nyawlra. He would dispatch a special squad from his own office to do the deed, he told Kaniürü.

He had already formed a standing squad of Superintendent Peter Kahiga, Superintendent Elijah Njoya, and Superintendent Arigaigai Gathere as his eyes on the movement, and he now enlisted three constables to assist them. A.G. was to coordinate the operation not only because he had worked in Santamaria and knew the area well but also because of his legendary chase of djinns across the prairie, resulting in a reputation of relentlessness. A.G. was also to liaise with the informer Kaniürü, whose main task was to point out the criminal.

A.G. and Kaniürü agreed that the Mars Cafe would be the focal point. Kaniürü was to make sure to be there before the main squad and order a cup of tea. He would be wearing a white shirt and reading a newspaper as identifying markers for the squad.

The squad was to arrest the woman in secrecy, throw her into a van with a fake license plate, and take the prisoner directly to Sikiokuu. No one else, be he a police officer or cabinet minister, was to know. Sikiokuu did not want to share even the slightest credit with his political enemies like Machokali; he licked his lips at the thought of the dramatic arrest, his first crack at the women who had brought shame to the state in the eyes of the world. The state would now strike back, and he, Sikiokuu, was thankful that fate had chosen him to be the instrument of the Ruler’s revenge.

Nyawlra would always recall the morning of that Tuesday with trepidation. The Monday and the Friday before had been declared public holidays in honor of the dedication on a Saturday. Tuesday was her first day of work after the drama at Eldares. Later, describing the events of the fateful morning, she talked about how she had woken up at her usual hour in a state of bliss, quickly showered, and set out for the bus stop. The bus to Santamaria had been on time. In the bus Nyawlra was in a zone all her own-she felt like singing to celebrate being a woman. The victorious drama at Eldares was still fresh in her mind. She knew that security forces would be on the lookout for the members of the movement, but she did not feel unduly concerned about her own personal safety. She believed that nobody could possibly connect her with what the women had done. In Aburlria, politics was strictly a masculine affair; men would never think that women could plan and execute anything like what had happened. Ever since she started working for Tajirika she had covered her tracks well, acting the perfect secretary-a bit priggish, perhaps, which had earned her Tajirika’s respect and that of his circle of friends, who kept their lustful thoughts to themselves. She got off at her usual stop a few blocks after the Santamaria market. She crossed the Ruler’s Avenue and Parrot’s Way and went down Main Street to the offices of Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate. She was very keen on getting to the office to glean gossip from Vinjinia. Vinjinia had not been at the scene on Saturday, but she surely would have picked up a few tidbits from Tajirika.

Nyawlra knew that he had been at the meeting because a few days before the dedication, Tajirika, according to Vinjinia, had suddenly recovered from his so-called illness, saying that the queues had already served their purpose and swearing that no illness, real or fake, would keep him, the chairman of Marching to Heaven, away from participating in so historic a day.

She thought of stopping at the Mars Cafe for a cup of coffee before going to the office. Giddy with bliss, Nyawlra never entertained the possibility of encountering Kaniürü. At the thought of the aroma of fresh hot coffee, she did, however, think of Kamltl all alone in the forest, but she quickly shooed the image away. After all, Kamltl had freely chosen to dwell among the fauna and flora, and if he was happy with that, who was she to tell him that he was missing good coffee at the Mars Cafe on a glorious Tuesday morning? She did not envy him, and she most certainly did not miss the frosty morning air of the mountains.

She was a few blocks from Mars Cafe when she felt somebody touch her right shoulder. She ignored the brush, casually shifting her handbag to her left shoulder and moving on. It happened again and she turned around quickly. It was A.C. Nyawlra started ever so slightly. She had never seen him in daylight other than at her place, and not since the morning that he had come to tell of his promotion. What is he doing in plainclothes in Santamaria so early in the morning? Trying hard not to show surprise, she at first acted as if she could not tell who he was.

But A.C. was already murmuring gratitudes. What is the man talking about? she asked herself, but she had no way of getting a word in edgewise.

“I recognized you in the distance but I just wanted to make sure,” A.C. bubbled, lowering his voice as if he did not want anybody else to hear what he was saying. “Me? There is no way I would not recognize you even if you were to turn yourself into a bird or a turtle. True! Haki ya Mungu. And don’t think that I don’t know that you can change yourself into anything. Where did you go? I sent some other friends to you and they found the shrine closed with a notice that you had gone away…”