Come See Magic

Dead face, eyes shut against our world now. Pale skin, his familiar features that once transmitted such fiery energy, obviously powerless now. A sick feeling suddenly weakened me as I stood there staring at my lifeless brother, and I caught my breath to keep myself from falling. I could feel tears starting to form in the back of my eyes that would soon rush out to publicize my moment of excruciating sadness, so to counteract the occurrence of that event I blinked hard and stood up straighter. Several United States flags surrounded and covered my brother, and their image swam in the small amount of tears which I hadn’t been able to prevent. I raised my right hand up by my forehead and gave my brother Andrew the most respectful, crisp, solemn, and heart-felt salute I had ever given him. And then I turned and slowly walked away.

Twenty thousand dollars was put in my hand from his death two days after the funeral. He had had a heart attack at 57 and this, a couple of his things, and a few pictures were all I had left of him now. But something told me he wasn’t done yet with this life, and I, his brother, was his only chance to finish it, whatever that was.

Sitting in a big, brown leather armchair, I stared at the psychic’s solemn-lined face, wondering if I was crazy, she was crazy, or we both were. But when she darkened the room and I couldn’t see her anymore, I felt something that I cannot explain. The best way I can describe it is that it was a powerful feeling of the presence of the Unknown. But this woman was savvy to that Unknown, and she said my brother Andrew was telling me what to do.

I never heard his voice, though I had longed to. His directions were relayed to me through this medium. “Go to the Congo,” she (he) said, “Use the money I gave you to go to the town of Atwari. Find my little black notebook, I left it with the people there. Say the word ‘Magic’ to them and they will understand. Do this and then I will tell you what to do next.”

Three days later, I stumbled through the town of Gafghan, looking for something to eat. I knew no one, I knew nothing. People were in the streets, adults and children playing, and some dogs. I saw a bunch of people gathered at one building, so I went there. It was some kind of eating place. I showed some money and was offered cut pineapple and a banana. I ate and listened to the foreign words spoken all around me. But suddenly I heard English spoken by two people in the corner, talking about the weather. I introduced myself.

“You can’t go on foot to Atwari,” the taller one told me. “You need a dirt bike.” I told him I would pay him and he motioned I go with him and the other man. “I’ll take you on my bike right now but I hope you know someone there because the people are cannibals.” He sat on his bike staring at me, the other one mounting his own ride. Fear shot through my body and I felt weak, but I struggled to stay strong for my brother. He wouldn’t send me to my death. I suddenly remembered he had told me to say the word “Magic” and they would understand.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We motored through the rain forest, fast sometimes where the trail was clear, slow when the undergrowth was thick and vines and bamboo choked the way, bumping along for hours. I heard loud chatterings and callings from unfamiliar animals and birds. A whole group of what I guessed were chimpanzees was sitting in the path at a certain point, but when they saw us they jumped up and vanished into the trees.

“There’s your town,” my driver suddenly announced after stopping and pointing his finger. I saw a group of thatched huts and people moving here and there. “Cannibals!” my brain screamed, but I screamed back at myself to shut up, my brother was watching and this would work out because my brother had told me to say “Magic”. I paid the driver and felt weak as I heard the bikes’ engines fade away. I was left standing alone, so alone, in this huge unfamiliar forest, right next to a cannibal village.

I heard a loud rustling in the undergrowth behind me. Fear ripped through my body. An animal to eat me! Without turning to look, I stumbled towards the village as fast I could, but I tripped and fell. I grabbed some vines to pull myself up quickly, but some hands grabbed mine and pushed me down on my back. Two men stood over me, one holding me and the other pressing something sharp to my throat. “M-m-magic!!!” I managed to stammer at them. Instantly they let me go. Astonishment was on their faces, and I saw an almost loving look come over the both of them. “MAGIC,” I said it louder so they would be clear about it and not hurt me. Then they started mumbling the word over and over while they helped me up. “Come,” the one said, “Come see magic.”

Sitting by a fire outside a hut, surrounded by what seemed to be everyone in the village, one of the men who brought me there presented me with a little black notebook. The psychic’s words were right so far. But had they really been the words of my brother? That question was answered when I opened the pages. I saw my brother’s unmistakable beautiful calligraphy inside. On the first page was inscribed in very big letters “MAGIC.” I said it as I read it, and the whole crowd around me echoed it perfectly with their own voices, and then they started forming a circle, swaying their bodies, and three men and one woman began dancing in the middle, jumping and twisting and turning in unnatural but amazing and mystical ways. They suddenly stopped as if for my approval. “Magic,” I said, and they smiled and laughed happily, then continued their dancing.

I looked at the other pages of the notebook and saw many other words written there, simple words, covering all the pages. Some of them were not my brother’s handwriting and they looked as if written by a child. “Dinner!” I suddenly heard a voice say plainly, and I looked up to see a proud, young male face smiling above me.

The young man and his family took me to their hut for the night. They fed me fried goat meat and cassava leaves. I said, “Thank you”, and they understood. “Your welcome,” they were able to reply. Their little boy even climbed on my lap while I was eating and watched me. They ate after I was finished.

That night his face looked like it always did before he died, but his eyes had a strange, unblinking, staring quality now. I stared back and my brother spoke. “Mike,” he said, “I’m proud of you. I was here with the Army for a couple of months. I got to know these people really well, really well. They have been cannibals to keep their enemies away. But they want to be able to stop that terrible practice, become more powerful in a different way, a better way. They want to become educated and join the world to improve it and themselves. I have taught them some words, but they need to learn so much more. The first word I taught them was “magic” because when they met me they weren’t sure if I was an enemy or not, and they searched me and found my notebook. They were so pleased with the handwriting in it that I ripped the written page off and gave it to them. The handwriting worked on them like magic, so I wrote that word in the notebook and they were amazed to watch me write. I taught them to say the word. And then more words in the days that followed. After I ran out of room in the notebook, I brought some paper from the Army office to teach them more words. But when I got transferred to another location, I was forced to terminate my tutorship. However I gave them the notebook and told them to keep studying, to never give up on their dream of a better life.

“Go to Asha Randwa in town. She will get you more paper and supplies to teach these people. When they have learned enough, there is a United States government program that will set up electricity for them and give them all computers. Instructors will also be sent to teach them how to use the computers and modernize their lives. They will also be kept safe from their enemies. This is their only salvation from a barbaric life they no longer desire. You are my honorable brother and I know you will accomplish this. You will only see me one more time, and that will be the day these people get their computers, the day they will be set free.” I started to say something but my brother disappeared. It was dark and I squinted all around the room in the hut but I saw nothing. He was gone. I sank back down on the soft mat beneath me and went over and over in my mind what Andrew had said to me.

Asha Randwa. I had to find her to help these people. I got a ride on a dirt bike to town, and after repeating her name to everyone I saw, I found her. She was an older woman who, after I told her who my brother was and what he wanted, quietly packed our dirt bike with notebooks,pens, and workbooks.

Three weeks went by faster than lightning. I was a schoolteacher so I did well teaching the people day after day, in between their activities, how to read, write, and speak English. They were so eager to learn, and I was astonished at how quickly they became adept. And we began to laugh together, hug each other. The little boy fell asleep on my lap every night.

I knew they were ready. Asha Randwa came to evaluate them. I had never seen them so nervous, some of them visibly shaking as she tested them. “Give me one week”, she told me as she left, “They will have their reward.” The people understood. When she left they danced and sang, me right along with them.

The night the lights came on. The village was bright, no longer dark. The hope that the words in my brother’s little black notebook had planted in the hearts of these people had blossomed into the realization of a beautiful dream. Every hut had a light and a computer, and the military and instructors were settled into the new buildings they had quickly set up. People stayed up later than they were used to, but they were laughing and staring happily at the new equipment and the new people in their village. Some of the instructors were giving some of the people an early lesson about the computers. Their new lives had begun.

Later that night I couldn’t sleep. “Mike go home,” Andrew told me suddenly. I sat up and saw him clearly in the lights. “You have made me very happy,” he said. “I love you,” I blurted out, but he was gone. I felt tears behind my eyes. “I love you too,” he said from somewhere. The tears stopped forming, but those that already filled my eyes stood at attention without falling as I saluted him for the last time. Then a teardrop escaped and slowly slid down my cheek. But it was a teardrop of hope, a teardrop of happiness.