The discussion had become a free-for-all.
“I have heard it said that there has not been a single leader from Africa on that program, is that true?” another one asked.
“Except Nelson Mandela,” another one said.
“You see how these people discriminate against Africa?” another said with a touch of anger. “From the West they choose statesmen but from Africa, jailbirds. Unbridled racism.”
“That means,” observed yet another, “that if and when the Ruler agrees to appear on the program, he will be the first real leader from Africa to join the Global Mighty.”
The chance to go to New York to be wined and dined while lobbying for support for Marching to Heaven was medicine to the Ruler’s wounded soul.
“It is time for all of you to listen,” he barked, instantly creating a hush. “It is said that there is no smoke without fire. Dark clouds precede a storm. I was not very happy to hear that Tajirika, my chairman for Marching to Heaven, employs people without first checking their background and history thoroughly. Do you hear me, Machokali? At the same time I was not pleased to hear of the arrest of his wife, what is her name, Vinjinia, and I don’t want the story to spread beyond these walls to the press. I want Vinjinia released immediately. I don’t want even a whisper of this botched affair to reach the Bank people. But I want Tajirika investigated, though subtly. Do you hear me, Sikiokuu?”
“Yes, sir. And will Tajirika continue as chairman of Marching to Heaven?” Sikiokuu asked, emboldened by the Buler’s judgment. “I suggest that he be relieved of his post immediately so that he cannot interfere with the investigation.”
“Shut your mouth,” the Buler warned Sikiokuu, “or I will do so for you. We do not change horses in midstream. Tajirika remains in his post.”
It was Machokali’s turn to feel victorious; he even managed a smile that vanished as quickly as it had come.
“I will appoint a deputy chairman; I charge Minister Sikiokuu to give me recommendations. And Sikiokuu, I want you to set up a commission to investigate this matter of queues and the ensuing mania. The commission of inquiry must find out where, when, and how the queues began and how the enemy came to exploit it as cover for her shameful acts. While the other ministers are welcome to suggest members of the commission, I leave its composition, including the election of chairperson, to Sikiokuu.”
Sikiokuu was elated by the developments. He had triumphed over his archrival, or so he thought. His euphoria was dashed when the Buler announced: “I want full reports on my desk when I return from New York!
“And as for you, Machokali,” the Buler said, turning toward him. “Busy yourself with arranging my forthcoming trip to New York. Fit in as many state visits as you can. I don’t want these Global Bank people to think that I am making the trip for the sole purpose of negotiating with them.”
As disappointed as Sikiokuu was about not going to New York, Machokali on his part was displeased to leave his archenemy conducting a possibly damaging investigation. He tried to figure out ways to tie Sikiokuu’s hands.
“What is to be done about Nyawlra?” he asked. “If the back of the Movement for the Voice of the People is not broken, the Global Bank might feel reluctant to release money to a country threatened by insurgency.”
These words pierced the soothing dreams of state visits, reviving memories of the scandal of Eldares. The anger at the women and the lust for vengeance came back with a force that almost choked the Ruler. Why did they do that to me in front of all the eyes of the world?
10
How does one separate fact from fiction in telling the story of what the women did on that day? All who told it, and there were many versions, insisted they had witnessed it with their own eyes. Not in dispute was this: there had never been so large a public gathering than at the site of the dedication for Marching to Heaven.
What accounted for the crowd? Party stalwarts? The radio station that kept on urging people to go to the site? The answer may very well lie in the statement that Big Ben Mambo, in his capacity as the Minister of Information, disclosed that the Global Bank missionaries would be the major guests of honor. This revived and intensified the rumors that the delegates had come to dole money out to the people, a radical departure from their normal practice of giving it all to the State.
NGOs sprang up to advise the grass roots on how to use the money. Yet others on the rights of the grass roots vis-a-vis free gifts from banks. Some feminist groups, noting that the members of the Global Mission and the ministers who took them from queue to queue were all men, saw male intrigue and formed a Just for Women movement for a share of the Global Bank. Rival NGOs initiated their own queues with their own slogans.
When the day of promise came, all the queues that had mushroomed in Eldares for different needs now zigzagged their way to the park. People, some of whom came from far away, began camping out at the site days before the event.
11
“We, too, were there,” Nyawlra told Kamltl. “Some of our people, mostly women, mixed with others at the site days earlier. In the glow of overwhelming attendance, we planned to champion democracy and denounce dictatorship in broad daylight, and the promised presence of the Global Bank made things easier for us. How ironic! Democratic space guaranteed by the bank we opposed!”
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
