THE RATIFICATION OF THE WHITIST PRAYER

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

Amen.

Upon adopting the standard Whitist prayer, the council of Whitist priests decided to make copies and take them to each species leader, all thirty six of them. There had been a call for a unification of all Whitist religions so that there could be a single priesthood, a single theology, a single body of beliefs for all animals who converted to Whitism and accepted White as their lord and animal savior. White had saved the farm from collapse. Sent by the animal gods, he had done his duty by taking over the farm and the priests were not going to allow a thing like freedom of worship come between them and properly venerating White. People tried to make excuses and if you examined those excuses, they were carefully hidden shields of sympathy for Goodhead, the evil former farm manager and That’s Uki his hyena, now in chains.

Not everyone was compliant. Not everyone saw the infallibity of White as something worth protecting. Not everyone who was fingered by That’s Uki trembled with fear and brought back yams. Some spoke back. Like Mai Tusa, a goat who had worked closely with Goodhead. Mai Tusa got his name as a child when he could not stop farting in public. Even as a grown goat, he regularly farted in the public square. While Goodhead was farm manager, animals had to endure Mai Tusa’s farting especially as he brought crucial information from Goodhead.

Mai Tusa bleated wildly when he was tied up by White’s farm hands and asked if he was going to return the yams he had taken or not. Once, tired of being chained, Mai Tusa, while farting, said he had one large tuber of yam to return. The farm hands took him to where he claimed he had the tuber but he insisted he had to carry the tuber himself. They agreed and as soon as they got to the centre of the farm where he was being questioned, Mai Tusa asked for a moment to look at the tuber of yam one last time. Even though it was not rightfully his, he had sentimental attachment to the yam, he said. And as they left him alone, he changed his mind and proceeded to devour the yam, raw, farting loudly as he did. By the time the farm hands came in, it was too late to save any of the large tuber.

“Never!” Mai Tusa bleated as they struggled to save some of the yam from his mouth. “Never! I will never return yams. I’d rather eat them raw.”

And they proceeded to bind his feet with rope.

As all of this was going on, the water pipes that came from the marshes kept being blown up and no one knew whether it was the old wild dogs that Goodhead had domesticated or whether it was the leaders of the turtles who did not really like White.

White meanwhile, was looking at the farm records, looking at all the records since Goodhead started managing the farm. As he stared at all the names of animals who had plundered the farm, an owl came flying past, screaming:

The farm managers before Goodhead had also mismanaged yams and water and grains. Like former farm manager O’shege who, though old and almost infertile, lives in the west of the farm, making noise and hosting animals as though he was a saint while he ran the farm. O’shege recruited Goodhead. O’shege has questions to answer. Just look at the records. Just one page before Goodhead started running the farm. Just look. Ok. Ok. Look at some of your own farm hands. Look at Rot In Me. I know his book is with the species leader, but look at it…

And White shooed the owl away gently. And when the owl wouldn’t go away, Whitist priests, especially the monkeys, got catapults and stones and fired at the owl until, for fear of it’s life, it flew away.

White rose and went to a wealthy farm a few hours away where he was told some yams from the farm were taken to following Goodhead’s exit from power. Many animals originally from White’s farm were living as fugitives and flaunting their yams. And White had a meeting with the farm manager and they both agreed to find all the animals that had fled there and all the yams they came with.

And White came back content. Smiling but not speaking. He smiled as he passed by That’s Uki still confessing. He smiled as he walked by Mai Tusa still farting. He smiled as he walked past Rot In Me with his new white feathers singing hymns and proclaiming righteousness. He smiled as he walked past the Whitist priests. And the Whitist priests, who had now all ratified the official Whitist prayer, chanted:

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

Amen.

And White walked past them all, smiling in spite of the pain in his side, silent.