It was the morning after her night flight into the mountains. Nyawlra had not slept well in Kamltl’s rudimentary shelter under a sycamore tree. Nightmares of impending captivity had recurred. The makeshift bed of dry fern and reeds she had slept on had not helped. She had woken several times and was glad when dawn came.
The terror of the night had subsided, although occasionally she would feel her heart race at the thought of how narrowly she had escaped being caught. The peace surrounding her and Kamltl was a far cry from the occurrences during the previous weeks when she and her companions had waged their struggle. Some of their planning sessions had lasted a whole night. Weekends, they held meetings in the queues, better to study what people were up to. As the day of dedication approached, they had made sure to the smallest details of the State’s plans, intentions, and mood.
The Ruler and his advisers were elated, especially when they saw that people started arriving at the site a week early. Radio commentaries enthused about the pilgrimage to the site and the people’s love and support for Marching to Heaven. Machokali was tireless in his praises of the wisdom and vision of the Ruler and as the queuing intensified he kept the Bank Mission appraised.
Naturally Sikiokuu was not happy about the whole thing, but he swallowed his hurt and envy, hoping that something would go wrong.
To bring this about, the minister was lax in demanding effective vigilance on the part of the M5.
Nyawlra and her companions had gone to the site on Thursday night to join the others in the movement; they wanted to use Friday to put the finishing touches on their own plans.
“I have never seen such a large gathering,” Nyawlra told Kamltl. “The crowd at the unveiling of Marching to Heaven paled in comparison. Now the government provided free buses and lorries plastered with posters of the Ruler. People, some carrying green twigs, banged the sides of the vehicles, beating out the rhythm of their songs. Others on foot waved green branches as they sang. Each queue had its own song, and the songs reflected as many interests as there were queues. There was no unifying theme except a general feeling that the Global Bank was on a mission that had to do with money and jobs.”
In the wake of the big turnout, the state functionaries concentrated on the important business at hand: the seating of the dignitaries, reflecting the order of importance of the guests, at least in the eyes of the State. To the right of the Ruler sat the Bank missionaries. Next to them were foreign ambassadors, with the American having pride of place. Religious leaders were in abundance-Catholic cardinals, Protestant bishops, Muslim sheikhs, rabbis, and priests of various Indian sects. The Ruler and his advisers were keen to refute rumors that the religious community had rejected him as an incarnation of the Prince of Darkness. To the Ruler’s left were his ministers, members of Parliament, and leaders of the various branches of the armed forces. Directly behind the Ruler sat his official biographer, Luminous Karamu-Mbu, who as usual held a book and a pen so huge that both items could be seen from afar.
When the Ruler arrived surrounded by his guard, he shook hands with all the members of the Global Bank mission, all the ambassadors, and leaders of the various religious communities.
In his opening remarks, Machokali once again stressed the colossal magnitude of Marching to Heaven. He asked the people to imagine Mount Kilimanjaro multiplied by a thousand! Imagine, he went on, a shadow across Eldares, Aburlria, the African continent, extending to the other end of the Indian Ocean on the eastern side and to the other end of the Atlantic Ocean on the western side: even that could not begin to describe the shadow that, on completion, Marching to Heaven would cast across the globe.
“Aside from the Tower of Babel, it will be the only other human attempt to reach Heaven’s gate,” he continued, “and once completed it will be the one and only superwonder of the world! That is why we in Aburlria are so happy and feel extremely honored that the Global Bank mission has joined this assembly of ordinary citizens. The mission, which also represents the Global Ministry of Finance, has not yet issued its report, but we are confident that when they do so they will not forget what they have seen with their eyes: this project enjoys massive grassroots support. The mission has seen for itself the queues cropping up all over the city. And what are the queues and this assembly telling the Global Bank and the world? It is all quite simple. The Aburlrian masses are ready to forgo clothes, houses, education, medicine, and even food in order to meet any and every condition the Bank may impose on the funds it releases for Marching to Heaven. Upward Ever, Downward Never. That is our new slogan. We will not rest until we get to Heaven’s gate. We swear by the children of the children of the children of the children of our children to the end of the world-yes, we swear even by the generations that may be born after the end of the world-that we shall pay back every cent of the principle along with interest on interests ad infmitum. The Buler is not like some of those Third World leaders who are always whining about their commitments, going so far as to ask that their debt be forgiven.”
Those who had thought that the Global Bank was on a mission of doling out dollars directly instead of to the State were a little disappointed; some even groaned in protest, but they assumed that Machokali was only dampening expectations, that the real thing would be announced by the Buler or by the leader of the Global Mission.
Machokali, who did not want a repeat of the public display of interministerial tensions that had surfaced at the birthday ceremony, did not give any other minister an opportunity to speak. After his opening remarks he quickly announced that various performing troupes would now entertain the Buler and his guests, preparing people for words of wisdom from the great leader himself.
First were schoolchildren from Eldares and its environs, singing mostly in praise of the leader’s well-known trips abroad in search of food for the people, particularly in times of drought and famine. His cry on behalf of the people had reached even the ears of the Global Bank, who had now sent a mission to Aburlria to give money for Marching to Heaven. They sang of their hope that the project would be completed as soon as possible. Then the Ruler would be at one with God.
Machokali was ecstatic: the songs had succinctly summarized the major themes of the project. He asked the crowd to give the children a round of applause. Didn’t you hear what they said? he asked the crowd rhetorically. He who is close to God will always be the first to close in on His blessings.
Most of the other groups, including adults, ended their songs and dances with the same praise for the leader and his efforts on behalf of Aburlria in the capitals of the Western world. Holding his customary club and fly whisk, the Ruler received these praises with a broad smile, leaning now toward his guests on the right or left to remark on the detail of the performance. At other times he would simply raise his fly whisk as if conferring a blessing.
And now the turn of the women. The expectation was that their songs and dances would climax in prolonged ululation, a prelude to the main item, the Ruler’s speech. Women’s performances, particularly by those advanced in years, always produced a stir in audiences, as if those present identified with the women’s celebration of youth in age. A similar air of predictable anticipation was now pervasive.
Sikiokuu, who resented not sharing the limelight, now found, in the women, an opening to ingratiate himself. He walked up to the leader to tell him that at some appropriate moment it would be nice and an excellent photo opportunity for the Ruler to mingle with the dancing women and even attempt a step or two himself. He should then invite some of the diplomats to join him, for that way the whole world would see that the Ruler was truly a man of the people. Machokali could not oppose an idea that seemed to please the leader so enormously, but he modified it by proposing that it would be better for the Ruler to do so after his speech, during the grand finale with all the singers and dancers grouped together. The Ruler was pleased with the phrase grand finale and agreed.
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