Ngũgĩ Thiong - Wizard of the Crow

The Wizard of the Crow looked at their faces and instead of feeling pity for the couple he felt something like envy. These two were so deeply in love that even their thoughts came out clothed in identical words and phrases. He felt like calling out to Nyawlra to come and see this image of mature love, a model for them in the future. But quickly he dismissed the temptation and forced himself to resume the task at hand.

“Since you do not believe in magic and divination, old or modern, I don’t really know how I can help you,” the Wizard of the Crow said. “A person cannot get cured by word or deed unless he or she believes in the power of that word and deed. Now, our people say that good advice springs from frank words, and when it comes to curing an illness, taboos should not be in the way. So I am going to ask you one more question. When you go to bed, who unclothes the other?”

They became shy with each other, a little embarrassed by the question and thoughts of being naked in each other’s presence.

“Doctor, can’t you see that we are too old for that kind of foolishness?” they said in unison, not realizing that they had thought of him as a doctor rather than a sorcerer.

“So you have never carefully examined each other’s bodies to see if there is any blemish, scar, growth, or anything?”

“No!” they said frankly, wondering why they had not done so, the better to account for the hot and cold behavior of their bodies.

“Now, I have no magic potions to give you,” the Wizard of the Crow told them, unmistakably frank. “I have no magic incantations; just continue in the path you have been walking. But look to how you walk. Have you ever danced, because those who…”

“Oh, we used to dance all right when we were young,” they both protested, as if the Wizard of the Crow had slighted them.

“We would swing each other around till all the others stopped to stare at us,” said Mariko.

“So it is your generation who sang, Dancing is a matter of two steps and a turn’’?” the Wizard of the Crow asked.

“Yes, but these days we dance only the dance of Christ, our Savior,” Maritha said.

“Two steps and a turn to Jesus,” added Mariko.

“Keep dancing to your faith,” said the Wizard of the Crow, in his divination mode, “and if your faith allows you, you may want to try this. When you get back home, see if there is any oil in the house. Castor oil is the best. But first, tell me, in your home, who cooks?” he asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“Are you truly a black man, doctor?” asked Mariko quickly, as if insulted by the question. “When we become Christian we don’t give up each and every one of our traditions. Cooking has always been a woman’s job,” he said, but this time Maritha did not add a yes or a no to Mariko s words.

“Is there anything in the Bible that says a man must not cook?” the Wizard of the Crow asked.

“No, no,” Maritha said.

“It is just a custom,” Mariko explained.

“Then that is one custom that you may want to change, as it does not offend your faith.” The Wizard of the Crow addressed Mariko. “One of these days, you should make her a delicious dish so that she may know how your cooking tastes. A little surprise. Then get a candle, light it, put it on the dining table, and dim all the other lights or even switch them off. Talk, tell stories, or eat in silence. The important thing is for you to eat together in soft light. Then warm some water. Undress each other. Wash each other. Then take turns rubbing oil onto each other; no spot, no scar, should be left untouched. Is it not you, Christians, who say that the body is the temple of the Lordr Take your time. The night will be yours. If you find blemishes on your bodies, go see a doctor or come back to the shrine for the right herbs.”

They left clutching their Bible and cross, happy and relieved that the Wizard of the Crow had not engaged them in any magical rites involving dry bones, beads, and cowry shells, as they had heard that sorcerers and witch doctors were given to do. Perhaps their Bible and cross had warded off his intent. They were glad that they had brought their sacred icons with them. They went back to their home, engaging in small talk about what they had seen and heard for themselves at the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow, and still marveling at the power of their Bedeemer, who had tamed the sorcerer, making him meek and mild.

“There was no evil in his eyes,” Maritha said.

“There was no evil in his voice,” Mariko added.

“What he told us is something that we ourselves should have thought about,” Maritha said.

“Yes, he spoke the truth,” Mariko said. “Our ancestors used to say that one cannot see the back of one’s head.”

Rumor has it that when they reached home they did not bother with the preliminaries, so consumed were they with curiosity about the scars they might find on each other’s body. They locked the door from inside and went to their bedroom. Theirs was a gentle and tender search that produced endless sighs and hisses, and it seemed a miracle that at their age their bodies could grow such strong wings of glory yet so light.

From that day, Maritha and Mariko went everywhere hand in hand, their eyes full of light, their bodies exuding youth, their confident gait compelling passersby to stop dead in their tracks with unanswered questions.

So when it was announced that on a certain Sunday Maritha and Mariko would be making new revelations about their war with Satan, the regular and occasional worshippers now found their way to All Saints Cathedral. Among them were the Soldiers of Christ with their candles still lit, and Bishop Kanogori had to ask the sect to please stay outside in the yard and keep watch for Satan, who hates being exposed and might come to disrupt the proceedings, he explained to soften the obvious disappointment on their faces.

The place was jammed with the curious. What would their latest struggle with Satan entail? Would Maritha and Mariko finally reveal the identities of the people used by Satan to play havoc with their flesh?

As for those who had seen them recently in a new light, they joined the congregation in the hope of learning the secret of their rediscovered youth.

As it turned out, Maritha and Mariko did not offer any startling or scandalous news. Their bodies no longer yearned for those of others. They were now at peace with their union blessed by God though recently threatened by Satan. Life was hope, and they were very grateful to all the brothers and sisters in Christ who, through prayer and their presence at the Sunday confessions, had helped keep that hope alive, and how could they ever forget the Soldiers of Christ, who had kept their vigil every night so the light could overcome the darkness of Satan? You shared in our grief, now share in our victory:

I will knock Satan down

I will knock Satan down

I will tell him

Leave me alone, Satan

I don’t belong to daemons

Maritha and Mariko sang and danced with such joyous abandon that they infused the entire congregation with energy. Even those who at first felt cheated of a more titillating climax now joined in the celebration.

I will fly above the earth

I will float in the sky

As I behold our Lord do wonders

Never seen on earth before

But the group who gained most from the drama of victory was the sect of the Soldiers of Christ, whose fame started growing beyond the boundaries of Eldares. Their vigilance had driven Satan from San-talucia, and Maritha and Mariko’s confessions of victory over Satan were both evidence and vindication of the sect’s earliest claims that they had once encountered Satan face-to-face or, more accurately, face-to-back in the streets of Eldares. Satan had been driven away from Santalucia, but in case he thought of coming back, he should know that the Soldiers of Christ would stand their vigil with lighted lanterns.