Wizard of the Crow

in agreement.

Before parting they entered a pact of mutual cooperation. They would go their separate ways but whoever came across information about the whereabouts of the Wizard of the Crow would share it with the others immediately. All three had to be present when the Wizard of the Crow disclosed how to grow money on trees.

“True! Haki ya Mungu!” A.C. would later tell his listeners. “From that day we clothed in civilian clothes and joined the ranks of thousands of others, from the foot soldier to members of the elite air force, who had been fired. From being fishers of men to sustain the State, we three were now fishers of the Wizard of the Crow to sustain ourselves. But for me-True! Haki ya Mungu!-it was not the lure of the money-producing plants that attracted me to the search but the desire to know the secret of the being of all things.

“One day I heard that the Wizard of the Crow had been seen in the vicinity of All Saints Cathedral, and I searched out Njoya and Kahiga to share with them this bit of information. They, it seemed, had beaten me to the cathedral. Had they forgotten our pact? Well, I, too, headed there, and imagine my surprise when I found that the entire cathedral… but surely you, too, must have been there that day?”

BOOK FIVE. Rebel Daemons

SECTION I

1

Given all that was happening in the country, that the Limping Witch and the Wizard of the Crow were on the loose made the Ruler feel like a cornered, toothless animal. At the State House, where he monitored everything, he received hourly reports from different sources, chaotic reports reflecting the chaos of events taking place. Queues, which had formed in the different regions of the country for different reasons, were amassing by the Parliament buildings and law courts. As the crowd grew, the Ruler felt restricted in the choices before him.

Since Kaniuru’s patriotic gang had beat up foreign journalists at the airport, provoking protests from the Western embassies, the Ruler had ordered the police, the paramilitary units, and even Kaniuru’s boys to be careful, very careful, before foreign cameras. If they really felt like cracking a few skulls, they should do so in rural areas and small towns. Not that he was angry with those who had ignored his call for self-restraint and had broken a few bones of those inciting others to go to the so-called People’s Assembly. But he did not want them to do anything that might suggest that he was afraid of a peaceful gathering on the grounds of Parliament and the courts. So even though he seethed with murderous rage, he refused to succumb to instinct and unleash his killers against the dissidents. His hope was that people would eventually tire of all speechifying and go home thirsty and hungry.

But that was not to be. Many had packed food. The owners of small restaurants and kiosks provided snacks, and some matatus brought in food from the rural folk. So the assembly continued to grow in strength, confidence, and courage. When early on the police tried to remove a loudspeaker from a makeshift platform, people had roared in protest, threatening chaos and forcing the police to leave it.

Soon a pattern began to emerge at the proceedings. Religious leaders would lead the assembly in prayer, a common theme being that God vanquishes Satan so that peace and prosperity could reign in Aburiria. Hymns followed the prayers, then sermons from the clerics, adhering strictly to the holy books. And then anybody who wanted to speak could do so. The Ruler was of course not amused by any of this. Only the prospect of Global Bank money restrained him.

For a few days, the mystery of Machokali’s disappearance became the unifying theme. If even the Minister for Foreign Affairs, moreover one known all over the world, could vanish without anybody being held accountable, who could claim to be safe anywhere in the Republic of Aburiria? We want the truth! We want the truth! became a recurring cry. Some even said that if the truth about the missing minister was not forthcoming they would march to the State House to look for him there. Let them talk themselves hoarse, said the Ruler, grinding his teeth, but woe to them that dare to come here. He considered sending Kaniuru’s goons to provoke a march on the State House but thought the better of it, as he did not think that images of such a march would play well on television screens around the world. And so, with both sides waiting for the other’s next move, there was an impasse, both camps eyeing each other warily, testing each other only with words.

It was then that the American and French ambassadors paid a second visit to the State House. As usual Ambassador Gemstone was all business and to the point; he did not mind letting the Ruler know that his position was shared by the major Western democracies and that was why he was accompanied by Monsieur Jean Pierre Sartre, not to be confused with the existential philosopher of the same name, he joked, as M. Sartre nodded. The West had invested a lot in the future of Aburiria and was quite naturally anxious about developments that might jeopardize its interests. The Ruler had to come up with peaceful measures to end the unrest in the country.

The Ruler raised his voice in anger. He was tired of the arrogance of the West. He was tired of these lectures about what to do in his own home. He never would presume to tell the American president what to do with those wild demonstrations he himself saw when he was last in Washington for a prayer breakfast. He was tired of being pushed around. They had told him to come up with measures to end the so-called crisis, and yet when he threatened to use the only language his own people understood, they had told him not to. It is your people who say that you cannot have your cake and eat it, he told Ambassador Gemstone. When in the past he had used force and silenced a few thousand forever with the West’s full knowledge and blessing, did the West babble about using peaceful means? Why now?

“That is precisely the point, Your Excellency,” replied Ambassador Gemstone. “Circumstances have changed, and we believe that alternative measures exist. Give your people something to make them happy. Don’t you have a proverb that says that if you throw peanuts to a monkey you will distract it long enough to be able to snatch its baby?”

“What kind of peanuts do you suggest I throw at these monkeys?” the Ruler asked sarcastically.

“For one, go talk to them…”

And tell them what?”

Address the issue of the missing minister, Machokali. Their speeches have all been about him.”

And say what about him? That I know where he is?”

“That is up to you. But I can tell you that intelligence services all over the world are telling us that your minister is not seeking asylum anywhere, as your statement seemed to indicate.”

The French ambassador nodded in agreement.

“Why are you so interested in the fate of a minister charged with plotting to overthrow my government?”

“Your Excellency, we have no evidence suggesting as much.”

“So you don’t believe the official report released by my government?”

“Your Excellency, why should we believe it when it was put together by his political rival Sikiokuu?”

“How do you know that it is he who wrote the report?”

“Your Excellency, we have ways of knowing things,” Gemstone said.

The Ruler had not forgotten the humiliation he felt in New York when Global Bank emissaries had told him of rumors of new and better-organized queues in his country long before his own intelligence service had been able to piece together what was happening. And now here comes this ambassador boasting of how well informed he is, even about other people’s state secrets!

“So you spy on your friends?” the Ruler asked icily.

It is said that their conversation ended abruptly, with the Ruler telling Gemstone that the next time he had something to say to him it would be better to pick up the telephone, write him a letter, or send the French