"And so it was when Koko the Gorilla, who had thrown mud into the holy lake, became sorely afraid. For from the fouled milk of Mara arose the Makei. Their faces were terrible to see. Just enough mud had been cast into the lake that they could take the shapes of Ma’at, but not the substance. And while they longed for pleasure, they were unable to experience it. Grief and anger, however, were theirs and they plumbed them to the depths for only when they were sad or angry did they feel alive.
“They cried out to Aiheu. ‘Lord! Why have you given us only pain? Where is our beauty, our happiness?”
And Aiheu wept, for their suffering was dire. And he said, “Though the cause does not lie in your own actions, you are polluted. Do not be filled with resentment, but rather be mindful of the hope I offer you. Cleansing comes from within, in a clean heart and truthful witness. You will be sorely tempted by the mud, but you are also full of my milk, and it will overcome all else if you let it. Remember in your darkness that my light is with you, shining on the true path."
When Ahadi’s sons were old enough, they would come to Makedde who loved children of all kinds. He would tell them stories from the simian past and the leonine past. Rafiki loved to hear these as well, and he would get snacks for the cubs when they came. Making these treats was no small task, for they were small strips of meat cured and dried with spices. It was a sign of Rafiki’s devotion to the children that he would scavenge the meat, for while mandrills were corban to the lions, the hyenas did not honor the Peace of Asumini and would gladly snack on mandrill! However Rafiki soon forgot the danger when he saw the smiles on the cubs’ faces when he held out the jerky from behind his back. “Are there any good little cubs here?” The resultant tumult was deafening, but both Rafiki and Makedde loved every minute of it.
Makedde would not have approved the extra tidbits that Rafiki handed out when his back was turned. At times he wondered why the children always flocked to his younger brother whenever they came calling. But of all the cubs, only Taka would get an occasional piece of rare Tiko root. Rafiki would hold up the root and say, “Who do you love?”
“You, Uncle Fiki!”
“How much do you love me?”
“More than life!”
Laughing, Rafiki would drop the Tiko root and Taka would snap it up. He never let it hit the ground once. But after the prize was eaten, Taka would wait to nuzzle Rafiki and say, “I really do, honest.” He knew to close his eyes quickly, for sure as the world Rafiki would kiss him on the face and whisper, “My precious little boy!” These were the moments of unbridled joy by which Taka would later measure the depths of his pain.
Rafiki was nearly crushed by the enormous number of things he had to learn. Makedde was patient, but he knew that there was much his young brother needed to know to be confirmed as a shaman, and he pushed Rafiki as far as he safely thought he could. And this urgency was not without just cause. The struggle of Aiheuism and Pistism was heating up again, or so Wandani had said when he made the long trip to the baobab. Makoko did not have the years of acceptance that had made his father a fixture in the political landscape. And even worse, he did not have the talent or the desire to dig up secrets on his enemies which he seemed to inherit simply by being Kinara’s son.
Scrying was Rafiki’s favorite activity. He would have been even more enthusiastic about it if Makedde did not impose such strict rules. The pursuit of the future and past can take one’s mind off the present, and that is where all of Aiheu’s creatures find their rightful work. Rafiki had a tendency to cling to his unfortunate mother, something that only served to deepen his hurt for he could see her but not touch her. Makedde was strict, but only as strict as he had to be, so there were times it was all right for Rafiki to contact his loved ones.
Opening a window on the spirit realm was not without risk. It had to be done carefully and only after certain precautions had been taken. The lesser Makei were by and large morose spirits in search of salvation, and were by their nature prone to try and better themselves. The greater Makei, however, were ruthless and would take any means to work mischief on the world of Ma’at. They waited for someone to open a passageway they could go through. For this reason, no shaman would scry without first invoking the chief Nisei. Mano and Minshasa were of all the Nisei the most powerful, and their link to Aiheu was very strong. They would sweep away the dark spirits to let only the truth come through. Rafiki was working on his guardian prayers when three visitors came to the baobab.
“Rafiki, mix a poultice quick!” Makedde rushed to the bleeding cub. “Oh Master Taka, what have you done now!”
Rafiki looked up. His favorite cub was suffering. “Oh gods!”
Makedde held up his hand on one side of Taka's head, then the other. "No sight on that side. This is bad. Very bad. But perhaps I can fix it."
Makedde got some moistened Alba from Rafiki and squeezed it on the ground. The dust became mud, and he took this mud carefully in his hand.
“These are badger marks,” Makedde said. “If I couldn’t see it, I could sure smell it.” He shook his head. “What on earth possessed you to play with the badgers? You know they are dangerous.”
“It was a white badger,” Taka said. “I wanted to get a wish, like N’ga and Sufa.”
“Oh I see.” He frowned. “You don’t know the difference between a white lioness and a white badger! So you wanted a wish, did you?”
“It was my idea,” Mufasa said. “When we died, I wanted my brother to sit by me with the great kings of the past.”
The remark misted Rafiki’s eyes.
“Noble sentiment indeed,” Makedde said, “but all living things are precious to Aiheu.”
Makedde packed Taka’s damaged eye with herbal mud, then pressed it carefully back into its socket. The eyeball had been lightly scratched but not punctured. Makedde washed away some of the mud a little at a time, then he sealed the edges of the cut with Dwe’dwe resin.
Rafiki brought a gourd of water for Taka to which Makedde added blood builders, pain killers and a disinfectant. A little honey went in to sweeten the mix, but not by much. “It won’t taste good, but it will feel good.”
Taka found the mixture hardly bearable, but he was terribly thirsty after losing so much blood in the heat. And it did feel good.
Sarabi asked, "Will that eye work again?"
"Rafiki," Makedde asked, "You heard the lady. What will come of Taka?"
Rafiki was nervous. He was as afraid of the answer as Taka was. It was his first time to scry for another, so he looked into the water thoughtfully, trying to remember all his brother taught him. A wind came out of the west and stirred the water. It carried with it the odor of decay. The ripples died down, and he gasped. "Wait, something appears. It tells me...."
"What?" Sarabi asked impatiently.
Rafiki stared into the water. A chill swept over him as he suddenly felt his spirit being seized within his own body by a tremendous force. “Makedde, help me!” he shouted, but no sound came out. He tried to show his distress by gestures, or even by a look of horror. He had no control of his own body, but apparently the spirit inside him did.
A deep voice came from inside him. “The road is long and hard. Those who smile to your face bare their teeth as you leave.” Rafiki felt himself leave the bowl and stoop in front of Taka. He fought but was weak and helpless as a newborn. Pointing an accusing finger, the spirit said, “Friends come from unlikely places, then abandon you in your hour of need. He who is first to touch you shall beget your doom, and she who gives you love shall let it turn to hate."
The prayer! Rafiki had forgotten the prayer of protection. “Mano!” he cried out in spirit. “Minshasa! Help me! Aiheu! Oh gods!”
"Rafiki!" Makedde shouted. "Control it! It’s an evil spirit!"
“Anger is your only salvation,” the spirit muttered, gripping Taka by the fur of his cheek. “Arm yourself with cruel hate. Take what is yours, for it shall not be freely given.”
Taka broke away and tried to hide behind Sarabi and Mufasa, crouching low and trembling. “No! It’s not so! Tell me it’s not so!”
“Stop it!” Makedde shook him violently. “Stop it in the name of the gods!”
Rafiki looked wild-eyed as if he’d seen a ghost. He could move--he could speak! It took him a few moments to fully come to himself. “Brother! Oh gods, what happened to me?? I could not control myself. I was a stick, and some hand was swinging me!”
Mufasa’s jaw was slack with horror. "Is this going to happen for sure? Can’t we stop it?"
Rafiki was as weak as a newborn kitten. He crawled behind Muffy and Sassie to look at the cringing Taka. “Don’t be afraid, my son. It’s gone! I didn’t say those things!” He stroked Taka and wept. “Oh gods, that was not me speaking. That was not me! I love you. I would never say such things. You must love, always love, the way I love you. Forgive me. Please forgive me!”
"My brother did not know what he was saying," Makedde said. " Smell the reek of death in the air? If you forget to pray for protection, evil spirits come to speak, and they use a half-truth to work mischief. When I can see you alone, Taka, I'll tell your future and I will do it right."
Taka wept. "Do they really hate me?"
"No, Taka," Mufasa said. "We all love you, even if you do get in trouble all the time."
"But what if it's right?" Sarabi asked. "I mean if its a half-truth, doesn’t that mean half of it is true?"
"None of it’s true," Mufasa said. He touched Taka’s shoulder with his paw. "There--I'm the first one to touch you. I'm your bestest friend in the world, so you don't have to worry any more."
"And I'm the one that loves you most," Sarabi said. "When we grow up, I'm going to marry you."
Taka smiled. "I can see you! I can see you with both eyes!" He nuzzled her. "You would never hurt me, would you, Sassie?"
"Never! Not in a million years."
After the cubs had left, Rafiki crawled to the wall of the baobab where he rested his head and wept. “Poor little child! Don’t let them hurt him! Please don’t let them hurt him! I would give him the blood of mercy! I would die for him!”
“Rafiki, are you all right?”
“Who cares! Is Taka all right??”
“Do you think so?”
"Brother, I'm afraid there is more than half truth to this.”
"I know," Makedde said. "But sometimes it is from the telling that the prophesy comes true. You did not pray for guidance first--you left yourself unprotected. Evil spirits just wait for chances like this. They speak their piece, filling innocent little heads with foul thoughts to stir up trouble. Sometimes silence is the wisest prophesy of all."
Rafiki hung his head. "I am so ashamed. Can't I undo it, brother? Is there nothing I can do?"
Makedde went back to the scrying pool. He looked deeply into the water, praying first to Mano and Minshasa for protection. Then there was a gentle breeze from the east and on the wind was wafted the comforting scent of wild honey. The wind stirred the surface of the water, and after it had passed, the power of the holy pair had dispelled the shadows.
Makedde stared like one in a trance. “Rafiki, if you would hear the words of Aiheu, pay attention. For a little truth is like a little branch that will not reach to the choice fruit.”
The young mandrill fell on his face. “Speak, Lord.”
“A spirit has entered your world. The evil which you have set free, you must also bind. All the years of your life shall you toil to undo a careless moment. Milk and mud join quickly, but do they separate quickly? Your words have made the milk unfit to drink, yet I have not forsaken you. For if milk and mud are my creations, I can appoint whom I please to separate them, and it will be done.”
Makedde gently helped Rafiki to his feet and helped him climb up a large branch to a fork near the top of the huge baobab. Here, the branches had interwoven tightly, forming a kind of nook in which he sat down.
Cupping his chin in his hand reflectively, Rafiki sat silently, feeling the great tree sway beneath him, listening to the wind whisper past his ears, and watched the sun track its way across the great dome of the sky.
Some hours later, the twinkling stars emerged from their daytime hiding places to find him still there, unmoving. The gentle breeze had turned cold with the passage of the sun, but the mandrill sat shivering, and made no move to go below.
“I deserve it,” he thought. “I have destroyed the very thing I love!” Aloud he whispered, "Oh God, what am I doing out here?"
"I was about to ask you the same question."
He turned to see Asumini behind him. "What?"
"Your dinner is ready."
He shook his head. "I don't think I could stomach anything right now."
The night breeze ruffled her hair gently as she sat next to him and hugged him close. "What's wrong?"
"I ruined young Taka's life, today. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?!" He clutched his head in his hands. "Am I really the one Minshasa chose to serve the King? God rest his soul, but maybe your father’s dreams were bigger than his hold on reality." He raised his head and looked at her glumly. "You always did like the forest better than the savanna anyway, didn't you?"
Her forehead furrowed in confusion. "What are you getting at?"
"I'm talking about quitting." He looked back at the dark skyline, avoiding her questioning gaze. "I'd be better off foraging for a living than dabbling in things I have no talent for."
"What?" Asumini drew back in disbelief. "Metutu, you can't! You are a wonderful healer, and a fine shaman."
"Pfah. I should have stuck with being a scribe. When Mother died, I hurt so badly. Gods, Asumini, I just wanted to DO something, to make a difference!" he shook his head and laughed bitterly. "Oh, I made a difference, all right! In a matter of seconds I took everything Taka held dear and ripped it to shreds. He would have been better off had I never shown my face here."
Asumini moved around and looked him in the eyes. "He would have been dead had you never shown your face here. Along with his brother and mother. You made a difference then, love. You will do it again."
"So I saved his life only to ruin it three moons later. I've accomplished something indeed." He reached out and broke a stem from a nearby branch, twisting it between his fingers slowly. "Asumini, your father showed me his dream. I was supposed to be the chief that would save mandrill society from itself. I was SUPPOSED to be the voice of Aiheu to my people." Angrily, he cast the twig away. "I reward his trust by dragging you out in the middle of nowhere and playing God."
Asumini sat silently for a moment, then rose. She carefully made her way over to the branch and began to climb down, but paused. "Rafiki?"
Rafiki half turned. "Yes?"
"I love you dearly, and will stay with you no matter what you decide. But think on this. If you had the choice to make all over again, if you could choose between becoming the great chief and leader of our people, or saving the life of that one little cub: which would it be?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left.
It was well into the night before he followed her. He slept only lightly, and his dreams were fraught with nightmares, in which the scene with Taka was repeated over and over. Finally he gave up, rising long before the sun made an appearance, and climbing quietly up to his perch where he had sat the previous night. Crossing his legs, he gazed into the expectant eastern sky, looking like a stone sentinel set to guard over some priceless treasure.
Feeling the tree shake, he looked about and saw Makedde ascending behind him. “Good morning, brother.”
“Good morning, Rafiki. Up early, I see.” Makedde froze in the midst of reaching for a handhold, shock widening his eyes as he stared at his brother. “My God, what has happened to you?!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go look at yourself!”
Rafiki climbed down, grumbling irritably. “Honestly. I just haven’t had much sleep, brother.” Reaching the naos of the baobab, he meandered over to the scrying bowl which still stood full of water. “From the look on your face, I’d have thought you had seen a monster.”
Suddenly he caught sight of his reflection. An old mandrill, wizened and white-haired with age, stared back at him.
“Oh my gods, what has happened to me?” Rafiki moaned, clutching at his cheeks with his fingers, feeling the irrefutable evidence of the lines etched within. He turned to Makedde, who stood next to him, the horror in Rafiki’s eyes reflected in his own. “Brother? What’s wrong with me?”
“It was the Makei.” Makedde sat down heavily. “The spirit has drained much of your youth.”
“And left this empty husk behind,” Rafiki added bitterly, staring at his withered hands. “Why didn’t it finish the job?? Why didn’t it go ahead and kill me!”
“Do not speak such nonsense!” Makedde grabbed Rafiki by the shoulders roughly. “Your body may be weakened, but your mind is untouched. Use it! Think, brother!”
“I am.” Rafiki shook him off and snatched up an empty basket Makedde used to store dried herbs. Picking up his digging stick, he chucked it inside, and reached for a small pouch of medicines.
“What are you doing?” Makedde said, watching him toss item after item into the basket.
“Thinking.” Rafiki continued to pack the basket without looking up. “I think it would be best if I left this place for good.”
Makedde looked alarmed. "Brother, these are hasty thoughts, borne of the heart, and not the head. Reconsider."
Rafiki shook his head. "This is for the best. I will best serve the house of Ahadi by staying as far away from it as possible, now. I have caused enough damage by my folly." He picked up his medicine pouch and tossed it into the basket. To his irritation, a small packet slipped out and landed with a slap on the ground. Grumbling, he walked over and picked it up.
The old, brittle covering of leaves fell away, and he found himself staring at a small remnant of Maraliscus. The soft fronds tickled his palm as he ran them through his fingers gently.
Makedde cocked his head curiously. "What's that you've got there?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just some Maraliscus leaf." He crammed it unceremoniously into the basket. "Leftover herbs; you know."
"Indeed I do." Makedde frowned sternly. "I know you are making a big mistake in going."
"Brother, please! You know this is for the best."
"I know nothing of the sort. What I DO know is that-" he broke off, staring over Rafiki's shoulder. Turning to look, the mandrill saw a questing paw appear at the edge of the baobab's lobby-like center. Small claws which had been only partway retracted now flicked out to their full extent, and a very weary looking lion cub hauled himself up into the tree.
"Taka?? What are you doing here??"
The little cub looked at him curiously. "Uncle Fiki asked me to come back this morning so he could check my eye. Is he still asleep?"
Rafiki felt a thorn pierce his heart. "No! No, Taka. It’s me!" Rafiki walked over and knelt in front of the cub, holding his hand out. Taka sniffed it curiously, then looked up at him, bewildered. “Uncle Fiki?! What’s wrong with your face?”
Rafiki ran a hand over his features tremblingly, then forced a smile to his face. “I’m just getting older. Now, be a big boy and hold still while I look at the cut, okay?”
“Okay.” Taka cocked his head obligingly, but squinted the other eye shut, anticipating pain.
With the lightest of touches, Rafiki gently moved the fur away from the torn eye. The mandrill nodded approvingly, seeing the clean area where Akase's careful tongue had done its job. "Good. No infection in the cut. But I'm afraid my brother was right, it will leave a scar." He clucked sympathetically. "You poor child. This should never have happened to one so young."
Taka smiled up at him, his swollen eyelid making his grin lopsided, and all the more endearing. "It’s OK. It doesn't hurt that bad."
"Oh, now aren't we the big brave lion!" Rafiki again forced a smile to his face. He fought to hold his emotions in check, wondering how Taka couldn’t see the turmoil inside.
Taka peered over his shoulder at the half open basket. "Ooh! Whatcha got? Any jerky?" Without waiting for an answer, he darted past Rafiki and was nosing in the basket before the mandrill could stop him.
"Taka, no! Please don't touch that."
The cub looked at him slowly. "All your stuff's in here, Rafiki. Are you going away?"
Rafiki looked at his brother helplessly. "Yes I am, Taka."
Taka's jaw began to tremble, his eyes growing large and bright. "But you love me! You can't go!"
"Taka, I have to go. It was my fault you heard that stupid prophecy. I must leave before I cause you more pain." He move towards the cub, intending to comfort him, but Taka drew back.
"So you're not going to stay? Even if I want you to?" The tears began to roll down Taka's face in earnest. "Is it happening already? Don't you want to be friends anymore?" He buried his face in his paws, sobbing. "It’s my fault, isn’t it? I made you look old. I didn’t mean, it, Uncle Fiki, I SWEAR!” Taka collapsed to the floor of the baobab, crying hoarsely. “I won’t ask you to tell the future again! I’m SORRY!”
"Oh gods, what am I doing?" Rafiki went to the shaking cub and held him close, stroking his soft fur. "I didn't think you'd want me around after that. Yes, I want to be friends! Oh Taka, you know how much I love you!"
Taka looked up at him, sniffling, both eyes now equally reddened. "R-Really? You really do love me?"
"More than life! Just like you love me!" Rafiki reached up and drew a hand down his seamed features. “This is a mark of my love for you. Never forget that. If I hadn’t fought the evil spirit so hard, I’d still be young. But I did--I fought it tooth and claw! I’d fight a whole pride of evil spirits for my precious little boy!”
The little cub peered into his eyes searchingly for a moment longer, then nodded. Reaching up with a forepaw, he drew it down Rafiki’s face lightly, feeling the wrinkles give under his gentle paws. “It’s not so bad,” he said at length. “You look better than I do, anyway.”
Unable to speak, Rafiki clutched Taka to his chest, rocking him back and forth as he stroked his dark fur.
Makedde paced quietly over and emptied the basket onto the floor. Bending down, he picked up Rafiki's medicine pouch and hung it up on the bole of the tree again. Satisfied, he picked up the basket and tossed it into a corner. "You shouldn't need this anymore."