Homecoming of the gods Read online

  As Zach analysed these things and a lot more, he felt his lack of bible. The bible was a special book to him as it was to many others but there were an abundance of things he did not understand in that one book—things that made him sleepy. However, there were things he knew, things of which he was very sure.

  He had never seen heaven as an escape from a ‘worldly life’. He sensed a selfishness in that. But that was exactly what heaven meant to those people. They spent their whole day at the church waiting on the One Who Is To Come, to come quickly. More than selfishness, it was a different kind of self-absorption, a more subtle kind of it.

  Their idea of ‘worldliness’ was far more amusing than it was disturbing. It was televisions, cars… ‘Do you think it is because we cannot afford to build a cathedral? (Actually, they could not!) No, it is because we want to be ready for the Lord’s coming! We do not want to be distracted by these worldly things’.

  The man on the microphone had condemned those things as the work of the devil used for distraction, corruption, destruction and desecration of true believers! ‘True believers do not have televisions! Beware brethren! They are now manufacturing what is called ‘cell phones’. Oh my God! We are at the end of the world!’

  The sermon even went sensitive places. ‘I tell you judgment is hanging over this town. I can assure you of that. Look at the mayor’s daughter. When I visited him, I told him to his face. I don’t fear him. I don’t fear any man. We should not fear men! We do them more service by putting it to them than by playing about the bush!’ He sounded pleased and proud with his ‘courage’ with the mayor. ‘I told him that all that is happening in his family is the judgement of God coming upon him. I told him he must repent. He must make restitution. He must denounce his worldly ways. Only by so doing can he save his family and himself. If not he will suffer in hell after haven suffered on earth. And in hell, no one can save him! No one. Salvation is today. Those who postpone their decision to the twelfth hour die in the eleventh hour. And mark my words, some divine judgement is hanging over this town. I know it as I know the palm of my hands. God’s judgement is coming. If you do not see it then you are blind.’

  Finally, ‘we must warn people of this impending danger. We must prepare for it ourselves.’

  # # #

  There were offerings, very long announcement time and finally the sharing of grace. But Zach had another grace to share. The man who met with ‘first-timers’ had another long sermon to preach to him. As they sat together, Zach was uncomfortable throughout for the man smelt of his own saliva. ‘You are our only first-timer in months. You know it is a good sign. It shows that the road is truly narrow.’ After the extra-curricular preaching, the man had ended with bouts of questions that had Zach staring at him from the corner of his eyes. ‘Your beards, don’t you think…? Are you married? We have an abundance of church sisters that could make good wives….’

  As he made his way out of the hall trying not to meet anyone’s eyes, he saw the nurse from the health centre. Their eyes met and she dropped them. Like all the other women in the place, she looked older than her age. But unlike them, she carried with her some other anxieties which was not related to going to heaven.

  Chapter Sixteen: Sir Daía

  In a new one-storey duplex, from the door of a very well laid kitchen came the voice of a woman. It was loud and angry. At the same time, it was full of genuine motherly concern. The woman was standing in the doorway and was speaking back and forth from the other girl in the kitchen with her to the man on the dining section of the living room.

  ‘Nelson,’ she said raising a cloth to his eyes. ‘She had been cutting down all the skirts I bought for her into miniskirts. And look at the sleeves of this one. She’s removing the sleeves of her gowns. Okay, see this one, she tightening it. See how the one she is wearing now; see how it’s gripping on her body. Are you a whore? Do you want to be one? Nelson, what am I to do with this girl? And look at the padding she’s been putting in the bras I bought for her. Look at that pack of chewing gums.

  ‘She does not even want to hear about school. You could get the disease. You could become pregnant. And I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to have to send you back to your people before that happens. Do you hear me? You are such an ingrate? Look at how you are chasing after those little boys. Just because we travelled for two weeks, you just went and changed all you clothes. What is wrong with you? I bought these clothes with my own money. What makes you think you know better about life than I do? None of your other siblings had the chance you have been given by God. But here you are wasting it away.’

  She paused and caught her breath.

  ‘Nelson, I’m tired. She could get HIV. She could become pregnant. Is that what I will tell her family—that they sent me their only daughter and I could not take care of her?’

  The man at the dining did not really know what to say. He called out to the young girl ‘Taro, let me see your face.’

  The girl showed up. Her face was held down.

  ‘What she just said, is it true?’

  The girl remained silent. ‘Lisa, I really don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Please Nelson say something. Don’t let it all fall on me. I have been talking; maybe she will listen to you. Maybe she has not enough respect for me, not to listen in my old age. Nelson, I have raised daughters before and this was not how I raised them. Please talk to her, perhaps she will listen.’ With that, she stormed off leaving the both of them.

  ‘Taro, now you are starring at reality. One day, at my age, you will grow up and you will see reality. But we are here, our eyes are yours. We have given it to you to see reality as it is now. You can take it or you can leave it. One word is enough for the wise.’

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Now go get the door’.

  The girl was more than relieved to do so. She bowed and scuttled away, her mistress’ still ringing in the depths of her soul.

  # # #

  Zach and the hunter stood in front of an ornate door that was made of hardwood. The door opened to an acute angle and a seventeen-year old girl with a sweaty face appeared in the doorway. They had come to see the man who, according to the hunter could help him meet with the mayor. Zach was hopeful as he was very hungry and worn and with a headache as they traversed the town. He had expected to use the evening to get some rest.

  ‘Sir Daía hasn’t been in town for a fortnight’, Othí had busted in and had reported. That Sunday morning as he returned from Mass, he had caught sight of the blue Volvo making its way into town. It was unmistakable.

  ‘Sir Daía gets a horde of visitors, and not any less on a Sunday evening. We must hurry.’ He had led Zach on who had followed, redirecting his mind to the meeting with the mayor.

  ‘Pray that we meet him. Pray harder that we there is not a crowd there already. If we manage to meet him, you will be seeing the mayor anytime you want, today or tomorrow. He can make it happen. He’s a good man.’

  Zach prayed as instructed, as he tried to catch up with the quick-stepping hunter who now had another coat on—his Sunday best.

  ‘Sir Nelson is not seeing any visitors today.’ The girl said and turned to get back in.

  Zach and the hunter looked at each other. The hunter then stepped out of the way signalling that Zach was to take over. ‘I’m sorry to disturb but I came from a long distance…. I just want to see the mayor and I need his help. If he can send a word or a note for me or anything.’ Zach’s voice was very beseeching.

  The girl turned back in and spoke loudly into the other side of the door: ‘Sir… Yes sir…. Okay sir.’

  The man to whom she had responded was eager to entertain visitors against his wife’s wishes. He had been away for thirteen days for his medical consultation. Now he actually missed having his house flooded by guests to whom he always gave long and eloquent monologues—he was a profound talker. Zach’s prayers were answered when the man directed the girl to ‘Go on, let them in.�
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  The earlier description of the Knight of St Mary’s as a generous man had helped him ease into the man’s presence.

  # # #

  Sir Daía was a very respectable man. He was the most eminent man in and around Nānti. He presided over the town meetings. His hair had greyed and he had an unmistakeable air of grandeur about him.

  When they stepped through the doorway into the living room, Zach glanced around the framed photos-decorated walls. From the photos, Zach deduced that the Daía family was indeed a high-ranking one. There were photos that had good-looking youths dressed in graduation gowns among those of grandchildren.

  The living room itself was very large with the notorious colour television and very large sofas that could pass as beds. Instantly, the hunter’s attention was taken away by the television in which a Sunday evening drama was showing. He was giggling from ear to ear at the ‘gentlemen’ behind the television screen. From time to time, he would straighten his coat and adjust it on his body before returning to the show that was muted though.

  The two bowed to him and Zach politely made his request known after being told to sit. But as was usual with the Knight, he only listened to your request after you had listened to his monologue.

  ‘Taro, bring something for these gentleman.’ The mention of gentleman had the hunter’s head turning and his face curving into a smile. A plate of rice appeared in a few minutes and Zach swallowed the very oily food and was well able to listen to the knight.

  ‘What place did you say you are from?’ Sir Daía asked Zach. He had recognized the hunter though not after a re-introduction and an interview. He seemed to be taken by the stranger. This interest in Zach grew with each question asked and answered and with each dumbmove, head-nodding and smile.

  Zach told him. He was impressed. He commented on the state of the nation before moving to that of the world. ‘You’ve heard of the Princess, haven’t you, young sir?’

  He meant Princess Diana of Wales. Zach nodded. At the time, the whole world was rocking to the much-sensationalized news of the break-up of the royal marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales, which climaxed in an eventual divorce on the 28th of August ’96.

  ‘Pathetic, these young people. What do they know about life? She seems to me a very sensitive woman who is paying the price of her naivety. The price for the life promised was beyond what she could afford.’ He shook his head thoughtfully. ‘By playing the victim though, she has managed to win public sympathy. They love her to death though they hate to see her go.’ From there, he slipped into a more thoughtful mode and thence began the monologue.

  ‘Youth and naivety are like the barber and his mirror. Youth is an illusion. You don’t change what is in front of the mirror by changing what is in the mirror, it’s always the other way round. That is the trick of youth. One must be as old as I am to see reality as it is and perhaps even older to speak for it. When you are still young, you want to change the world—if you can and if you consider yourself among the Goethes of this world, those who are born to greatness. You lift weights; you get thick muscles. You go to war with reality, with yourself, with the world—with everything. The pride of youth lies in this sentimental self-indulgence, this blindness to reality, this dreaminess that sometimes takes itself with too much seriousness than is healthy—and insists that others do the same. That’s why they are throwing about these modern and lofty ideas. That’s why they are changing everything, throwing about high-sounding but empty terms. They even confuse truthfulness with grandiosity. It’s worthless! Mind you, young sir, I’m not a pessimist. I am an old man and if you grow to my age, you will find it all worthless, every bit of it. Forgive my grandiosity, but I believe that old age is a condition for recognizing reality. And one must have a sense of history to be able to recognise oneself, and reality. One must know how to wait—even if not to old age but at least one must learn to wait. One ought not find oneself or what one is looking for too quickly. But the pride of youth is to confuse itself and mistake its lack for its possession. The pride of youth scorns history, it spits at history books is in a haste to reach the future. They reach it too soon though and one should not find what one is looking for too soon. One must wait.

  ‘I lived my youth in a different time, but very much like the present. It was a time of transition, historical transition. Mankind was called upon to embrace more high-sounding ideas and ‘visions’ of the world. There was this belief in the essential goodness of man. This belief was all too sentimental and out of it flowed a lot of bizarre ideas. And believe you me, we are at the edge of such paradises. People will troop into this unfinished paradise. People like me who want to wait will be left behind. It’s already started.

  ‘But such a world had no place in it for me—for people like me. I had my own dreams and hopes. But I’m a man of modest desires. Mind you. It is good to be very modest with your desires. Be careful what you ask for in life. One must be of modest desires to live long.’

  Zach wanted to interrupt with: ‘But some people manage to change the world, on some levels.’

  The man was almost at it. ‘Young sir, but if you want to change the world, then you must despise old age. You must refuse to wait. I am certain that if the Lord Himself had lived up to my age, he would have recanted. Life has a way of blanching the hairs on the head of those who wait. But every waiting is rewarded—at least one is left with a head. Mind you, this is my theory. It’s nothing universal though it may one day be.’

  Zach laughed heartily.

  ‘You see. The doctors have not told me but I know my heart is a bad one already. I won’t be here for long. It will fail me at any time.’ He took the last sentence in a whisper. His wife would not take that from him. ‘But I am consoled. I mean, is it not immoral to want to live forever? When a man lives to my age, he should be grateful. I have lived through two generations, seventy-one years. Why should I ask for more? You must forgive me for my faithlessness—that is what my wife calls it. But if you were my age, I doubt if you would have any better idea.’

  ‘What does it feel being close to the line? Do you think your waiting was rewarded?’ Zach asked.

  The man seemed to love the question because he smiled at it and answered with a jolt, ‘O’course it was, young sir. At least I had more to offer to my own children than all the dreams of my youth that betrayed me. They are my reward, my posterity. They are my conquest of the future, through them; I will be here a bit longer than I will actually be here.’

  Zach was impressed. He had reasons to be. Sir Daía had raised his five children to prominent places in the society, places he never attained for himself. He prided himself in them. His pride was not just in them but in the fact that he had raised them from the position of a railway captain that he had maintained for almost three decades. A lot more of his generation had better opportunities but they hardly had his vision. They spent the better part of their lives chasing the ‘illusions of youth’, as the man would call them. For some of them, it was the high-sounding ideas of the age, others it was women and wine, and the rest just died. They refused to wait.

  ‘When you are young,’ he would say, ‘you take your strength for granted, you’ll mistake your intelligence for genius. If you are a beautiful woman, you will want the world to bow at your feet. The world has a way of feeding off this self-absorption. Promises will be made that will blind your eyes to reality. People will prophesy to you and say things that will fuel your pride in order to make gains. The world will pretend to bow at your feet and take you for the genius you style yourself. If you are lucky, your name may even enter the books of those that are the ‘great’ and ‘eminent’. But it will be at a price and if you live a bit longer, you will realize that there is reward in waiting.’

  ‘Mind you, young sir,’ the knight had told Zach. ‘You must wait. You must be modest with your desires.’

  The man ended. And Zach saw from his face that he loved talking and giving monologues. But he could hardly imagine such a mono
logue in the ear of one of the natives of the town.

  However, he needn’t bother his imagination for the eminent knight had a monologue that suited everyone.

  Zach made his own request known and the knight, always full of favours obliged him. He climbed the stairs, returned and announced: ‘I have registered your name with the mayor. You can go see him anytime.’

  Zach was grateful but the pleasure was the knight’s. He was modest with every other thing apart from his words and his desire to help others.

  # # #

  Outside, they had a debate whether to go see the mayor at once. Or wait till tomorrow.

  ‘Today is a Sunday,’ the hunter had advised. ‘I doubt if it is appropriate.’

  Zach was not listening. He rather had the hunter lead the way. It was threatening to rain but Zach was ready to swim to those tall gate lamps. And back.

  He was hopeful of another meal.

  Chapter Seventeen: The Mayor of Nānti

  Zach and the hunter arrived the mayor’s place. Without any hesitations, he hit the bell hard and long as if in a rage. In a moment, a boy came trotting to it.

  The boy opened the smaller leaf of the gate and looked on. ‘Zachariah, the mayor is expecting me. Here on behalf of Sir Daía.’

  The hunter smiled at that. Zach had rehearsed that in his mind on his way. He was not ready to risk anything with the goblin Hééb. He was going to put it to him.

  The boy nodded like a lizard and disappeared. A minute later, he was pulling the gates apart.

  The gates opened into what was a colossal mansion with a very large front yard. The two-storey building had verandas on both floors. Under the veranda of the ground floor, a black jeep was parked. In ’96, jeeps were a rare sight in and around Nānti. The people had names for it that described the mystique it held for their eyes. One of such was ‘the one that stands while greeting a king’. They took the sight of the jeep as a good omen. ‘Someone will rub my back today,’ they would say. The children invented many legends about it as well as dreams of how they were going to ‘own one, this exact brand, when I grow up’.