“…although the world is brimful of evil, history is moving in a curved trajectoire, towards justice and victory.”
“Thanks Boss!” Bokor rubbed his hands, delighted to release his excess energy at last.
“So, Mesye and Madmwazèl! Baroness, that is. I personally would put the practicum before the job descriptions, but the Baron knows best,” he waived a hand.
“What’s a practicum?” Bakr and Samida were puzzled.
“Fancy word for actual steps. Practice, not theory. How-to.” He beamed. “The roots or herbs, where to them, identify them, which ones to use when (there’s more than one summoning! Then how to prep them, burn them, and whatnot. And most important, the incantations, the words, that make everything work.
“But first,” Bokor glanced at Samedi, “what you do when your zonbi first show up.”
“After you say the words,” asked Bakr, “how long does it take for the zonbi arrive?”
“Great question,” Bokor enthused. “About ten minutes before they, uh, manifest. Usually.” He shifted uncomfortably. “See, this Sector business is new, with toxins and whatnot; well, the majik might work a bit different. Faster, slower, who knows? You’ll find out! Got to play it by ear!”
Samida narrowed her eyes. “So, if there’s more than one zonbi, do they all show up at once or wander in one at a time? Are they shy? Angry? Do they need coaxing? What if they try to pick a fight? Or if they don’t show up?”
“Great questions, Baroness!” Bokor admired the rapid-fire delivery. Quick thinkers were always a plus. “In two hundred years, we’ve never had a zonbi who didn’t show up, not once! They’ll come from any direction—it won’t take long, I promise! They’ll stagger a bit (they’re still groggy) right up to your summoning fire.
“When they’re all gathered (mind you, being newly undead they will be a bit dazed) Bakr will get out his bag of salt, take a pinch between forefinger and thumb, and sprinkle the salt over each zonbi’s head. One after the other, pinch/sprinkle, pinch/sprinkle.”
Bokor pulled a grubby cloth bag from his pocket, loosened the string, took out a pinch of salt and sprinkled an imaginary zonbi in front of him.
“Here, you try!” He thrust the bag at Bakr who hesitated then dipped his fingers into the bag, extracted a pinch and sprinkled it into the empty air in front of him.
“Wi! The second you sprinkle, your zonbi will become alert and communicative. Gets ‘em ready for what’s next, see?”
“Where do you get salt? Is it a special kind? Do they need more than one sprinkle? Don’t zonbi object when you sprinkle stuff on them? What about a tall zonbi? Bakr here, he’s short! How can he sprinkle salt on some zonbi two meters tall? If they get mad, then what?” Samida fired off another round.
“More great questions!” Bokor grinned. “Table salt, sea salt, whatever you got. I’ll give Mesye Bakr this bag now, it’ll last ages. You can get more anywhere.” He cinched the drawstring and handed the bag to Bakr who carefully stowed it with his cigarettes.
“Zonbi sometimes object to the salt,” Bokor continued, “but a polite but firm command---‘Hold still please’ or even ‘Don’t worry my friend!’---works great! For the tall ones, a simple request, ‘Please lean down, Mesye or Madam’ does the trick! They’re groggy but they hear and understand. Frankly,” he added confidentially, “I have only ever had a few reluctant zonbi.”
* * *
Bokor worried that the repeated warnings of unknown situations might undermine their confidence. Shouldn’t overdo it. He shifted to allay doubts. “Zonbi are quite strong, stronger than the living, but you are even stronger. This is due to the timing of your summoning, which was egzakteman at the point of your death; compared to theirs which was, oh, one to three days later. If anyone gives you trouble, soft encouraging words almost always calms them down.”
Strong, eh? Samida considered this tantalizing information.
“Some zonbi,” Bokor continued, “need encouragement. As sorcerer your job is to boost their self-esteem. They are recently dead and—let’s face it---it’s a bit of a blow to the old ego even under the best of circumstances!
“Others might be shy, confused, even angry. A few—and these are the very best undead, the kind every sorcerer wants! --- are focused, ready to get with the program, touswit! Like you! See how quick you caught on? But always remember that no matter how they present, underneath it all, zonbi are gentle souls who more than anything, yearn to return to their true homes.
”Questions?” None came so Bokor soldiered on. “Your zonbi will have been dead for a few days, give or take, so they’ve have had more time to consider their situation…and become uneasy.
“Oddly, you’ll find that zonbi have excellent memories, nearly photographic! You’ve probably already noticed that yourselves! Even if their brains were like sieves when alive, once dead, their memories become steel traps. Interesting fenomèn, no? But here is something even more interesting, counterintuitive even!
“In spite of acute recall, zonbi don’t dwell in the past. We undead are forward-looking. The future, not the past! Sometimes you’ll find one or two who mope around. They’re the exceptions. Progressive, that’s what we undead are! And this is because zonbi, despite fantastic memories, soon find that the faces of their dear ones (or not so dear ones) begin blurring. This allows them to move forward. Focus on the future, that’s our motto!”
Bakr had a thought. “Will there be young zonbi, babies? And if so, wouldn’t they remember their mamas, and cry for them?”
“For sure there are zonbi children, but less often. They too exhibit acute recall, particularly of their parents; but then, as the balm of death soothes them, they look to the future like adults.” Bokor had heard that there were large number of dead Sector children and stifled his misgiving. “Never fear, no matter their age, you will manage beautifully!”
The sorcerer then turned to that part of the job description that he hoped would rivet Samida’s attention. “Other powers you have as undead include first rate night vision. It’s only been daytime since you arrived but you’ll soon see! You’re scheduled to arrive in the Sector at sunset, so it’ll be useful straightaway.
“And here is something you will both like! In addition to, um, enhanced strength and night vision zonbi can walk through walls and barriers whatever their construction! And, as you’ve noticed, fire can’t hurt us. But the most important power Madam is sure you’ll have is that the living in fairydom won’t see you. Invisible, yeah? The cinema gets this part all wrong!
“And although zonbi may (very occasionally) wish to hurt or kill those who injured them in life, they can’t, no matter what the comic books say. This is a firm rule. No harming the living! Li pa posib!
“So how do our powers,” Samida wondered, “differ from those of our zonbi? You said being summoned at the exact point of death increased undead strength!”
“Your powers are the same but amped up all around. Stronger, great night vision, ability to go through barriers. But the no kill rule applies to all undead. No exceptions!” Bokor was uncharacteristically severe. Samida frowned.
“Now, Mesye,” the sorcerer barreled ahead, “once you sprinkle your salt, you interview each zonbi. But keep it brief! Some zonbi won’t shut up! Quickly review their death story, that is if they wish to tell it. Then determine their destination. But don’t let them rattle on!
“A gentle, positive approach always works best. That’s part of your personality Mesye, so you’re a natural! Don’t rush, but keep them on topic, draw them out according to his (or her) confidence level.”
* * *
Bokor took a non-existent breath and launched his peroration.
“If they’re gung-ho, temper their enthusiasm. If they are angry, soothe them with quiet words. Keep reminding them that successful completion of this their final journey will be the most important thing they can do to ensure victory over those who harmed them in life. Because, franchman, that is usually the reason that made them zonbi--- unforgiveable injustice in life.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“And this, my friends, is the crux of the whole undertaking. As you deliver each zonbi to the place of their heart’s desire, a little victory is achieved. Only a pinprick. But --- and this is important ---over time small victories accumulate to such a degree that the authors of injustice, those who created the grievous harm will be vanquished. Remember, the final goal of all undead is to restore justice to the living world.”
Bokor rocked back on his heels. “Make your zonbi understand that what they are doing will make the living victorious. The effect of each successful escort is, like so much in nature, cumulative.”
Bakr and Samida mulled over his words. Bakr seemed satisfied but Samida was scowling. Not a scowl of anger or doubt, but one of concentration as she tried to work out how she might amplify those victories. Hurry things along.
“Well,” Bokor asked, “any questions?”
Samida had one she was burning to ask but set it aside. When she was alive, justice and victory were all she had ever wanted. That hadn’t changed. She understood the concept Bokor propounded--- certainly, the fairies understood it and feared it---- but she needed more information.
“This justice thing, this victory, exactly how do zonbi contribute to it? What’s the mechanism? Any proof that it works?” She jabbed her forefinger. “Any examples? You bring justice to Guinea yet?”
Bokor had read too many pamphlets to let such a challenge throw him off.
“More great questions! I had the same ones when I was summoned, right Baron?”
“You did indeed,” replied Samedi tersely. Perhaps a taste of his own medicine would be good for his sorcerer. Let us see how he answers that impudent wretch of a Baroness!
Bokor was thinking fast. “So…here’s the key thing to remember. I said that nature is kimilatif, yeah? Well, so’s history! When you’re alive, history’s slow! The seconds move like molasses in winter. Hours tick by with the speed of a turtle trudging up the dunes to lay her eggs; the book of days slowly flips page by page as if turned by a sleeping hand, the years drag by and---ay!--- nothing ever changes in the eyes of the living and, if it does, it only seems worse. Easy for the living to turn hopeless. The impatience of the living who seek justice and victory slows history down to a crawl.
“But once you are dead (or almost dead) boom! History speeds up! What the living experience as slow becomes, vwala! A goal speeding towards you! When you’re dead you can see that although the world is brimful of evil, history is moving, in a definite curved trajectoire, towards justice and victory.” Bokor described a graceful arc with one arm.
The Arc of History
“Although the hundreds of thousands of zonbi we have escorted,” Bokor saluted Samedi, “have not yet piled our small victories high enough to create justice for our descendants in the Island or even Guinea, the time that has passed since we began seems as if it was only a couple of weeks. And have been at this for two centuries. Perception changes when you cross to the other side of the grave.”
The Baron felt a surge of pride. For all his frivolities, the majisyen is formidable.
“Okay,” Samida said slowly, “let’s say you’re right---“
“You have only been dead a couple of days,” Bokor reasoned, “so it’s still hard to understand. The Baron can tell you how it was with me when I was summoned, right Boss?” He looked so beseechingly that Samedi relented.
“Wi, Bokor was quite unconvinced when he materialized beside my fire. He thought that I was, uh, funning. I believe that is the word he used. Extremely angry, if you can believe that seeing him now, all affability.” Bokor nodded vigorously.
“But I persevered, and he was soon convinced.”
Samida was silent. So that’s why fairies prohibit burials in places we wish. That’s why they impound bodies of the dead for years, refusing to return them for burial! The fairies had, in some part of their spiky, metallic hearts, understood and feared the power of the dead. God knows they’re deathly afraid of the living! Well…I’m convinced. About that part anyway.
“So. Mesye, Madmwazèl, any more questions or are you, shall we say, satisfè? Two heads nodded.
“Well, then,” Bokor concluded, “there is nothing like training real-time! He flashed a brilliant smile.
“But first, a quick review,” Bokor spread his fingers wide, “of the five tasks to remember, in sequence: Summon. Revivify. Encourage. Interview. Determine destination. Well, three and four sometimes blend, but not a problem.” He ticked the points on each finger.
Bakr, moving his lips, opened his fingers one by one. Then he tucked his headscarf more snugly and pulled out a cigarette.
“What about my role?” Samida was suddenly anxious; hoping she’d finally hear about the additional powers Samedi mentioned without having to ask.