“I think you’re a little confused.”
“Wrong! I’m not the one who’s confused. You don’t even know who you are!”
Simba began to rankle. “Oh, and I suppose you know?”
“Sure do. You’re Mufasa’s boy.” Rafiki smiled at the effect that had on him, and he skipped away.
“Hey, wait!”
Simba chased him across the grassland. Finally he reached Rafiki who sat in meditation on a rock.
“You knew my father?”
Rafiki turned only his eyes. “Correction. I KNOW your father.”
Simba looked down. Painfully he said, “I hate to tell you this, but....” He caught a tear before it could show. “....he died. A long time ago.”
Rafiki became agitated. He leaped off the rock and headed toward the trees. “Nope. Wrong again! Ha ha ha! He’s alive! And I’ll show him to you. You follow old Rafiki--he knows the way. Come on!”
With an energy that could only be an effect of the powerful herbs in his blood, the old mandrill spryly swung through, around, and over the branches and bushes. Simba struggled to keep up with his large bulk.
Rafiki laughed, easily outpacing the lion. Suddenly he stopped and put his hand up in Simba’s face. “STOP!”
He motioned Simba to some nearby reeds. “Shhh!” He parted the reeds and pointed with his staff. “Look down there.”
Simba worked his way to the edge of a pool of water where he saw his reflection. He peered at it intently for a moment, then sighed with disappointment. “That’s not my father. That’s just my reflection.”
“No,” Rafiki said intently. “Look harder.”
The mandrill made moves over the water. He struggled to concentrate despite the giddiness of the drug. His love of Simba came out fully and focused him. The water rippled, breaking Simba’s reflection into tiny bits of color. The colors then resolved to form Mufasa’s face.
“You see? He lives in you.”
Simba stared at the picture. While he was staring spellbound, Rafiki took a large thorn from his staff, and gritting his teeth, jabbed it into his palm. He stifled a cry as the red drops of blood fell into the water.
His sacrifice was accepted. The wind began to pick up, and upon the clouds came one of the Nisei--Mufasa! He was immense, but the light of love in his eyes was reassuring.
“Simba,” he said quietly.
“Father?”
“Simba, you have forgotten me.”
Simba was wounded. “No! How could I?”
Mufasa was stern. “You have forgotten who you are, and so have forgotten me.” He looked a little more kindly but kept his reproachful tone. “Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become. You must take your place in the Circle of Life.”
“How can I go back? I’m not who I used to be.”
Mufasa drew near. The light of his love filled Simba with awe and grief. “Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true king. Remember who you are.”
Mufasa began to retreat, and as he did so, his image faded. Simba ran after him.
“No! Please! Don’t leave me!”
“Remember,” Mufasa intoned.
“Father!”
“Remember.”
In anguish, Simba cried, “Don’t leave me!” But it was no use. He was gone. The lion trembled.
Rafiki drew alongside. “What was THAT!” He laughed. “The weather. Pfft! Very peculiar, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Looks like the winds are changing.”
“Ah, change is good.”
“Yeah, but it’s not easy. I know what I have to do. But going back means I’ll have to face my past.” He recoiled. “I’ve been running from it for so long.”
Rafiki looked at him with a devilish grin. He whacked Simba on the head with his staff.
“Ow! Jeez, what was that for?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past!” He laughed at his clever example.
“Yeah, but it still hurts.”
“Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or...learn from it.” He took another swing at Simba, but this time the lion ducked down. “Ha, you see! So what are you going to do?”
Simba couldn’t resist the opening. “First, I’m gonna take your stick.” He batted the staff out of Rafiki’s hand with a sudden swipe.
“No, no, no, no! Not the stick!”
When he bent down to reclaim his staff, Simba hurried off.
“Hey, where are you going?”
Simba shouted, “I’m going back!”
“Good! Go on! Get out of here!” He laughed, giddy with his success.
Minshasa drew up next to him. “You did it, honey tree!”
“I did it? We did it!”
“Your humility serves you well.”
“Your kindness serves you well.” He hugged her around the neck. “Oh gods, oh gods! Can he really set things right?”
“Don’t worry, my child.” She nuzzled him and kissed his cheek. “Breathe in deeply.”
Rafiki took in a deep breath. As he did, she blew softly in his face. The scent of wild honey filled his lungs, and his head began to clear. “Oh, my lady, do it again!” Rafiki took another deep breath and felt the odd excitement run out of him. “Oh yes, that’s better!”
He looked down. “All those things I said to you. I’m so sorry. I mean, all that mushy goo....”
“Look at me in the eyes when you say that,” Minshasa said softly. “You would never say something you didn’t mean because of a herb. No, it just loosened your tongue more than you would have liked.”
“Well, perhaps.”
She purred and began to nuzzle and groom his face. “Perhaps?”
The colored patches on Rafiki’s cheeks showed a deep blush. “My lady, I must remind myself that you are not an ordinary lioness.”
“There are no ordinary lionesses,” Minshasa said. “There are no ordinary mandrills, either.” Minshasa lay in the grass. One last time she blew on him, dissolving his tensions like dry earth dissolves in spring rains. “Rest here, good and faithful servant.”
Rafiki lay his head on her side and closed his eyes. Moments later he fell peacefully asleep with her as a pillow, a gentle smile on his face.
Uhuru and Fabana showed up. “Hey Rafiki,” he said. “Did you see that lion in the clouds?”
Minshasa looked right at them. They caught sight of her, and Fabana and Uhuru fell before her and grovelled.
“Shhh, he’s asleep!” Minshasa said. She smiled at Uhuru and made a kissing sign with the tip of her tongue. “Your prayers are a warm cub snuggled under my chin.”
Uhuru looked at Fabana. His eyes were shining. “Isn’t she wonderful, Fabana?”
“My gods,” she mouthed, but no sound came out.
CHAPTER 51: THE STRUGGLE
The fight upon Pride Rock was a horrible thing to behold. Lightning flashed and thunder ripped across the sky as Rafiki sought for a desperate foothold. High above him, Simba and Taka grappled, snarling and snapping savagely at each other as they fought for dominance.
The two traded powerful blows, each striving to undo the other. Simba struck out, but Taka blocked his swing and countered, sending the younger lion sliding across the flat peak to the edge.
Lightning flashed again, and Rafiki felt the air about him shimmering and roiling, like the air over the desert at highsun. A twisting, rippling shape flitted in and out of his vision, hovering over Taka like a ghostly thundercloud.
“Makei,” Rafiki grated. The ground thrummed under his feet. Slowly reaching up, he clapsed the makeshift locket he wore around his neck. Always warm to the touch, it flared brightly now, full of its own inner heat as he held it in his fist. Gripping the thong, he placed a rock in the pouch to weight it down and began to twirl it about his head, the light making a glowing circle that lit his face, the scintillating light flickering over his aged and lined features, now set in determination.
Faster, faster he twirled it, waiting. Simba twisted, struck by a heavy blow from Taka. The line was clear to the peak.