“I can see that. He has powers I can feel, but not understand.”
“Not the powers,” Rafiki said. He tugged at his chin whiskers. “Sometimes old Rafiki gets sad and feels sick inside. I don’t want to be young again, but I long to feel my mother’s kind arms around me. No one else made me feel that safe and contented--except you.”
Uzuri looked at him with her soft eyes and gently purred.
CHAPTER 60: TURN BACK THE SUN
Makaka looked with great interest at the paintings inside the baobab tree. “What’s that? It looks like an eye.”
“That’s the eye of Aiheu, watching out for us.”
“Look at those monkeys. That’s you and me, and who’s this?”
“Well, that’s me, but this is my wife and here is my daughter.”
“Where are they?”
Rafiki drew his fingertips across the picture. “They’re in heaven with God.”
“You miss them?”
“All the time.” He reached into a small hollow and pulled out a carved wooden ball. “This belonged to my daughter. Her name was Penda.”
Makaka handled the ball. A strange look came over his face. “Whether it’s a boy or a girl, it will be beloved.”
“I always suspected you could read markers.” He handed Makaka Asumini’s digging stick.
Makaka ran his fingers over it. “Jasmine does not do well in direct sunlight.” He fingered the point and a pained look came over his face, and not because he pricked himself. He began to cry. “Give me back my daughter! Oh gods, don’t let it kill her! Metutu, help us!”
He began gasping. He was having an asthma attack. Rafiki grabbed away the stick and looked for Chi’pim. A few deep breaths of the strong, musky odor settled Makaka. But it took a long time of holding him close to stop his tears. “Oh my precious boy! Such a kind little heart!”
There would be no more experimenting with markers that day. In fact to be safe there were no more lessons in medicine or ceremonies. Rafiki sent Makaka to Uzuri to listen to her stories.
Makaka loved her. In fact, his love for her was so deep that it surprised those who saw them together. And Uzuri returned that love. It was clear that they were for all practical purposes mother and son.
The grief Makaka felt passed, and soon he was joking with her, trying to catch the tuft on her tail, and having a good time. Uzuri found that she did not have to tell stories to keep his attention, though they enjoyed listening to the tales of long ago.
One story of Uzuri happened not so long ago. She chose it out of love.
“Once there was a mandrill named Metutu. That meant ‘plain one’ for his face was not very beautiful nor was it very ugly. But inside he had a great beauty that was plain to anyone who looked with the heart.
“He came from a place far away in the forest to this very rock. Queen Akase was going to be a mother to twin sons, but she woke one morning in great pain and fever. Her friends told her that she would not have her sons. In fact, she was so sick they thought she would die. Then along came Metutu who looked at the sadness of Akase and her husband King Ahadi. And he decided that he must save the mother and her two cubs no matter what.
“He walked under the stars of night and prayed hard with his face to the ground. And an angel came and brought him magic herbs that would save Akase and her cubs.
“King Ahadi was so grateful that he kissed Metutu and gave him a new name. Now he’s called Rafiki, which means friend.”
Makaka smiled. “Tell me about Asumini and Penda.”
Uzuri looked a little upset, but she checked her emotions. “I didn’t know them for very long, but they were both good people. Maybe if you ask your Uncle about the leopardess he threw nuts at, he might smile. That’s when you can get him to talk.”
“The leopardess? Is that a funny story?”
“Yes, and worse, it’s true! You’ll embarrass him, but at least he won’t cry.”
Makaka yawned and stretched. It was time for his nap, something he coveted every second of snuggled against her soft fur. His eyes looked up and he saw Uzuri turn to look back. His warm smile had the usual effect of starting a bath, something he always enjoyed more than Togo and Kombi ever did. Makaka took nothing for granted, and he found the joy in everything he did. But he felt suddenly as if something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Uzuri, stop!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure, but I have to see Rafiki.”
“You’re just having a panic attack.”
“No, it’s real. I’m sure.” He kisses her. “I’ll be back, I promise!”
With his heart in his mouth, he ran as fast as his short legs would carry him across the broad savanna. Gasping for air, he was heedless of snakes, a flock of noisy guinea fowl, or even a vulture picking at a carcass.
Worn down, he finally stumbles into the baobab. “Rafiki! Come quick! I need your help!”
Rafiki was lying on the floor, curled up in a ball.
“Rafiki, wake up!” He shakes the limp mandrill, but there is no response. “Wake up! For the Gods’ sake!” Begins to panic. He grabs an owl quill. Holding the tip in front of his nose, the shaft did not twitch. He held the small tuft of down fluff on the base of the feather in front of his nostrils. There was a very slight stirring.
Makaka went to the door. “Uzuri! Anybody! Help! Can anyone hear me?? Oh gods, can anyone hear me??”
He began to sob. “Don’t leave me, Uncle! Don’t leave me!” There was a gourd of Bonewort lying shattered beside him. It was his usual medication--it had never affected him that way before. He held up some of the herbs. There was something else in there as well. A small strand of a brighter green that he could not recognize. Rafiki had evidently poisoned himself, but with what, Makaka had no idea.
“Oh gods, please help us! Aiheu, if you can hear me, please don’t let him die! Please!”
Makaka realized he nearly spent his nap time blissfully curled up on Uzuri’s side. He fell over Rafiki and began to sob again. He knew he’d never put the herbs in the gourds himself. Though he gathered herbs, Rafiki always checked them before he put them in the gourds. He racked his brains for one small hint of what to do. He tried to stop crying, but he couldn’t. “Oh gods, please help us!” Makaka’s breathing began to be labored. His stress had triggered an asthma attack.
“Not now!” He had to keep his courage up and fight it if Rafiki was to live.
Makaka bowed his head to the ground. “Mano, protect him! Minshasa, comfort him! Aiheu, save him! Please, if you can hear me, somebody help him!”
The wind shifted unexpectedly from the North to the West. The smell of wild honey came wafting into the baobab tree. As he breathed in the fragrance deeply, he relaxed. It opened his lungs, numbed his pain and made him very calm, collected. His hands began to glow softly.
“Who are you? What are you? What are you doing to me?” Makaka took in another deep breath of the honey fragrance and let it out slowly. With that breath, his fear leaked out. He took his hands and for lack of other ideas tried placing them on Rafiki. A tingling went out through his fingertips and palms. He felt like strength was flowing into Rafiki.
Rafiki took in a sudden gasp. His eyes popped open. “What happened?”
Makaka grabbed him about the neck and hugged him so tightly that he almost choked.
Rafiki kissed him. “I had left my body. I was floating above, looking down on myself. I remember saying, ‘Oh gods, send my Makaka to help me.’ And you came. Somehow I knew you’d come.”
CHAPTER 61: MAKAKA’S COOL PERIOD
Makaka was anxious to play with someone roughly his own size. While Togo and Kombi were not quite his size, at least they played roughly.
“Hey, fellows!” Makaka said.
“Yo, Makaka. Wanna play?”
“Gee, that would be swell!”