Sunday, February 28, 2016


It was hot in the farm and the air was so still, animals had difficulty breathing. Animals would climb and fly to hilltops to see if the air was cooler. It was dry too and vegetation was withering away.

Many animals had resolved to give White the farm manager some time to sort things out on the farm, and even now that he was busy having a nice time on other farms, they were reluctant to treat him with the displeasure that they treated the previous plundering farm manager Goodhead.

Whitist priests on the other hand did not let the stillness of the air or dryness stop them from singing hymns and holding praise worship sessions to declare White’s goodness. They were using oxygen masks to help with their breathing as they screamed. And for the dryness they had large bottles of water which they sipped in between hymns. And when people pointed out their struggles, they would say: More time. Give White more time.

Meanwhile the pack of rabid dogs that lived on the northern fringes of the farm, notorious for killing swans and ducks and sheep - the same dogs that the genocidal farm hand Dick-Tai claimed to have eradicated - were still showing up on the farm and setting fire to animal dwellings and killing. White had claimed, before he began his tour of farms, that they had been defeated.

“What you do not admit does not exist,” one farm hand said. “If we say the rabid dogs have been defeated, they have been defeated. If we say there is no more rabies, there is no more rabies. And if we say White is our loving lord and collective saviour, then he is our loving lord and collective saviour.”

Meanwhile another set of wild wolves, this time operating somewhere around the middle of the farm, went on a killing spree of animals, appearing in the night and disappearing before anyone could see or identify them. Animals would wake up to dead bodies all over their quarters. White had never commented on this. Goodhead in his time never commented on this either. The wolves travelled in packs, clashing with animals through whose quarters they were passing through. Sometimes the wolves would be attacked by animals on the way and sometimes the wolves would attack, but over time, without fail, the wolves would be blamed for everything. No animal was interested in solving this problem, not even prominent wolves whose interest was trying to accumulate as much food as they could. Not even White, who was himself a wolf. And wild wolves among them would kill and fade into the night, unchallenged.

While White was planning the finances for the farm, he had asked his farm hands to prepare expenses that would be sent to the committee of animals that approved spending for farm managers. While this was going on, several farm hands inflated their expenses and caused great embarrassment to White when the committee detected the fraud. Upon exposing the fraud, the spokesperson for White, the rambunctious owl called Mai-Karya, swore by all the animal gods that existed and by White that nothing of the sort had happened. He claimed that as Whitists, they could do no wrong and perhaps the committee members were suffering from dementia. But as the outcry among animals over this fraud became louder, White waded in and indeed confirmed that there were many strange items in the list of expenses, swearing by all things holy that he was going to deal with all those who inserted elements of fraud into his list of expenses. He sacked at least one farm hand because of this. Meanwhile Mai-Karya, who was the official denier of the White administration just blinked slowly, carrying on as if he did not just swear by all the animal gods that there was no fraud. His job was to deny all things embarrassing even before White, who was often slow to act, would respond. He had denied it and White had confirmed it but he was not going to offer an apology to anyone.

“Every mistake is a style,” Mai-Karya said, “and even when White farts, it is sweet smelling. If the White administration makes mistakes it is just to prove that we are animals and can stoop low to the level of you mortal animals. Think if we never made a mistake. Would we not seem like unreachable gods? So we sometimes make mistakes so that you animals can feel like we are part of you, even though, truth be told, we are bigger, better and whiter. White is love. And it is his love that shines through when he allows errors. We should praise him for this.”

And White kept travelling, visiting farms which were closer to the animal gods so he could pray for his farm.

And Mai-Karya continued to deny all things embarrassing on behalf of White.

And darkness filled the face of the farm.

And the farm became hotter and the air dryer.

And slowly the animals began to forget about the bats massacred and buried by the genocidal Dick-Tai.

And the worshippers of White kept singing praises through their oxygen masks:

In the name of the White father
And of the farm hands
And of the holy Whitists

Bless us White for we have sinned
Bless our thoughts
Bless our desires
Bless our intentions

Blessed be thy name
Thy will be done in every quarter among every animal species
Teach us to love your will
Teach us to be teachable
Teach us to trust your will even when your will may not be clear
Teach us to defend your will before it becomes your will
For thine are the decisions, the thoughts and the glory
For as long as you choose to be farm leader

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You fit vex, bet abeg no curse me. You hear?