Wizard of the Crow

“The reflection of your face: it makes you say If?”

“Yes.”

“So the malady attacks you only when you look at yourself in the mirror?”

“Yes, yes. That’s true. You got it right.”

“Even in the office? I mean, when you look at yourself in the mirror in the office?”

“Everywhere, I tell you,” Kaniuru added, and now he gave his imagination free rein as he tried to elicit maximum sympathy from the Wizard of the Crow. “It’s a terrible malady, Mr. Wizard of the Crow. Wherever there is a mirror I know the malady is lurking behind it. In the toilets of the big hotels and nightclubs. In buses and taxis. It is as if my enemies inflict me with the malady every hour, wherever I may be. Mr. Wizard of the Crow, I am now scared to leave my home.”

Suddenly the Wizard of the Crow did what Kaniuru had not expected. He handed him a mirror.

“Here! Take this. It sees everything,” said the Wizard of the Crow. “Even what is most hidden.”

Kaniuru’s hands were shaking as he took the mirror. Many thoughts whirled through his mind. For a second he thought of faking a seizure and spurting a profusion of ifs, but he got scared. Suppose the mirror can see all my secrets? No, I am not going to look at myself in his mirror, no way. Kaniuru did not even pretend to look at it.

“I am not saying that words get completely stuck,” he said, trying to dig himself out of the hole he had dug. “What I am talking about is more like a whisper, an echo; it is not a distinct sound. The word whispers itself to my brain. Oh, Mr. Wizard of the Crow, whispers in the brain are worse than actual sounds because they impede the flow of thought. I need protective medicine around my property, for this will allay my anxiety, which is obviously the cause of these whispers. I need protection from my enemies, a permanent cure. Here, take the mirror back.”

The Wizard of the Crow did not take back the mirror. He looked long and hard at Kaniuru’s face.

“Is that all you want?” he asked Kaniuru.

“That’s all I want.”

“Then don’t worry yourself to death,” the Wizard of the Crow told Kaniuru. “You are young. You can still turn your life around. What you need is to get rid of those things that trigger anxiety standing in the way of a new self, a different self. They are the enemy”

“Thank you, Mr. Wizard of the Crow. You have read my mind correctly. Get rid of the enemies who stand in my way or at least neutralize their power over me. I believe in you and your medicine.”

“Hold the mirror before you,” the Wizard of the Crow told him. “Hold it firmly. Now look directly at it and don’t let your eyes wander. Concentrate all your thoughts, all your desires, all your needs, into the gaze. If you lie, you are lying to yourself. If you speak the truth, you are speaking the truth to yourself. When you feel yourself ready to receive the magic of curative and protective words, let me know.”

“I am ready. I am ready for the cure and the protection,” Kaniuru said quickly, fearing that the Wizard of the Crow might suddenly change his mind.

“Are you are looking at the mirror directly?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Say after me: Remove from me the enemy of life; the days of thieves and robbers are numbered.”

“Remove from me the enemy of life; the days of thieves and robbers are numbered.”

“I want you to chant that seven times.”

Kaniuru did as he was told and chanted the magic words seven times, his eyes and their reflection gazing at each other, his lips and their reflections mimicking each other seven times.

“Now remove all the wax in your ears and anything else that may block my words,” the Wizard of the Crow pronounced with authority. “Listen to me. Every morning you must stand in front of a mirror, look at it, and say the formula seven times. Do that seven days a week for seven months.”

“Is that all?” Kaniuru asked.

“That’s all,” said the Wizard of the Crow, now taking back his mirror.

“And will that cast a protective spell over my life and property?”

“Yes, if you do it right.”

“What is the fee?”

“There is no charge because I did not dispense any herbs, powder, or liquid. Yours is a malady of riches and property, and the medicine for that resides in the heart. Your soul and all you have will be well if and when you arm yourself against your enemies of the soul with the right words.”

“Words?”

“Yes, words. And actions born of the right words. So take good care of what you say from now on. What poisons a person goes through his mouth. I must never hear that you have repeated to the ears of another what you have seen or heard in the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Say after me: And if I say what I should not say, may the words tell on me.”

“And if I say what I should not say, may the words tell on me.”

6

Kaniuru felt a big load off his mind. His riches were now protected. His monies were beyond the reach of his enemies, whoever and wherever they were. He was so preoccupied with his lightness of being that when the same woman who had earlier received him now gave him a piece of paper, he just took it and put it in his pocket and moved on without a thank-you, a glance, or a word. The only person to whom he felt enormous gratitude was the Wizard of the Crow. The man is a true wizard, Kaniuru kept saying to himself, marveling at how much the witch doctor knew about him and his condition. And that he had not asked for a fee proved his authenticity all the more. The false are always ready to take and the true to give. No less amazing was how the Wizard of the Crow had managed to lull his fears so that, except when he had lied to the wizard about his malady, Kaniuru had felt at peace and talked to the wizard as if they had met somewhere else and were just renewing their acquaintance. He quickly dismissed the possibility of a previous encounter and attributed the ease and familiarity of their conversation to the wizard’s divining skills.

That night he hardly slept: his entire body was taut with joy, relief, hope, and self-congratulation on the success of the deception. He had even gotten the better of the Wizard of the Crow, he thought.

But the face of the Wizard of the Crow kept appearing to his mind’s eye. The face danced just so in his mind as to awaken his dormant artistic instincts. At school, his artistic bent was in portraits; his mind had been a storehouse of the different faces he had encountered. He had, however, become disillusioned with art as a means of material accumulation; his memory had lost its clarity and sharpness. Now he turned the face of the Wizard of the Crow over and over again in his imagination. There were moments when he saw the face exactly as he had seen it during the divination. But there were others, particularly in the twilight of sleep and wakefulness, when he saw the face floating above the streets of Eldares, calling unto him: Come, follow me and I shall make you fishers of everything: trees, property, people, men, women. Yes, women particularly…

He recalled the woman who had given him the piece of paper. What was all that about and what was written on it? He felt too lazy to get out of bed and retrieve it from his pocket. But unable to sleep, he slipped out of bed, put on the lights, and read the heading: The Seven Herbs of Grace. This witch doctor was endlessly amazing: hmmm, talking about the care of animals and plants and even insects? How funny! A witch doctor who cares about life all around him? A modern witch doctor, an environmentally conscious witch doctor, he said and yawned, returning to bed.

He dreamt of the Wizard of the Crow and himself chasing each other in some forest. Sometimes it was he, Kaniuru, who was in pursuit of the Wizard of the Crow. At other times it was the Wizard of the Crow who was chasing him, and wherever Kaniuru sought to hide and take breath, a tree would be saying: Look at the mirror in your heart seven times.

He woke up in the morning and went to the mirror in the bathroom and chanted the sorcerer’s incantation