Friday, August 26, 2016


With gratitude to God, a heavy heart and total submission to the will of the intolerant Nigerian people, I wish to announce the untimely demise of a dog belonging to a certain trader, Joachim Iroko, by the name of Buhari. Buhari died at the hands of unknown assailants. I was not aware of this dog's full name. I think it is unfair that dogs get only first names and although we claim to love them we have no regard for their ancestors or their need for blood lines. We snatch puppies from their mothers and take them to new homes. We separate puppies from their siblings in the most cruel way. And in the end, we erase any connection with their past by giving them only first names.

I do not know if Buhari was survived by siblings or if (I assume it is male) it fathered any children. What is important to know is that, Buhari is dead and it was not a natural death. 

It takes great courage to stand up for the innocent but powerless especially when people around are united against such a powerless individual. But I choose to stand with Buhari, the voiceless, powerless victim of the spiral of hate and intolerance. Now, one may say, (just like we all agreed when our army massacred the Shiites) that Buhari had it coming; that Buhari deserved to be killed because of all of its actions. And I think you have a point: Buhari was after all a dog. It must have peed in public places, bitten someone, mounted and gotten stuck in every female dog it could find or even eaten food that did not belong to it. This is what dogs do. The real question however is, does this mean Buhari deserved to die?

The murder happened when its owner Joachim Iroko, was in jail facing charges relating to the naming of Buhari. They said Iroko breached the peace by giving his dog such a name. I do not know why Mr Iroko named his pet Buhari. I do not know if he was tired of the dog, didn’t know how to dispose of it and so gave his dog a name he was sure would lead to its death. Because you know Nigerians, how fragile we are. You offend us, or insult something we have declared holy and it eats us up so bad that the only natural reaction is to kill the person who insults us or what we deem holy. I do not blame Nigerians. It hurts for someone to insult you or your prophet (or your president whom you worship like a prophet) and really, it is ok to kill when you are hurt. One must however be strategic and precise when killing fellow living things. Why kill Buhari who played no part in this perceived insult? 

Following the news of this untimely killing, I saw comments from people who said it was a provocation for Mr Joachim Iroko to name his dog after someone cherished by a certain group of people. I want to agree, but knowing animals like Buhari, I beg to differ. The only reason those people were upset was that they themselves do not value the life of dogs. They think dogs are worthless, beneath them. So they get upset if you name a dog after them. I think dogs have rights. Buhari has rights. Humans can be arrogant: we think we are the most superior of all the animals. I want to state here that dog lives matter. If you cannot make a dog, then don’t kill one. I realise there are people, like some from my village who eat dogs. I will address that matter another day. Today I am concerned with the taking of innocent life. 

Buhari did not choose his own name. He probably had no choice in whose owner he would become. He was probably chained all his life and treated like a slave, living outdoors or in a dirty cage. Let me say it again: I think that if someone offends you, you should kill them. Even worse if someone offends your God (especially as sometimes God needs us to do his dirty work for him - who else will kill those who insult him?). But Buhari did no such thing. 

Buhari’s killers probably poisoned him and left him to die in some gutter. This brings me to another issue: waste. Some people eat dogs. Now, to be clear, I am totally against the killing or consumption of dogs, but if there is no way of avoiding death, it is best to kill responsibly. At least kill the dog in a way that it would still be useful to those who find it edible. It is like being an organ donor. It is bad for you to die, but if that should happen then it is great if your organs are useful to someone else. They should have arranged with people from my village who eat dogs so that at least if Buhari had no value in life, in death he would please someone. 

I never got to meet Buhari personally, but his death saddens me. And it should sadden every believer in equal rights. I hope that our animal rights NGOs will step in and take up this matter. Buhari did not deserve to die. 

He will be missed.  #JusticeForBuhari #DogLivesMatter 

Ps. I am unsure if Mr Joachim Iroko has planned any funeral rites for Buhari. I will let you all know as soon as I find out about Buhari's funeral arrangements. 

Sunday, August 21, 2016


Dear Future Kidnappers,

I hope this finds you well. If so, doxology. (I mean praises be to God. Not everyone knows what doxology is these days). I am not mocking you. The very reason you have become so popular in today’s Nigeria is that all is not well. I get that. When I say I hope this finds you well, I mean that in spite of all the problems, some of which have driven you to this profession (forgive me if you have a day job which you prefer to call your profession), I hope you are somehow ok, health wise and all. Because to be ill and be a kidnapper can be a bit problematic. You don't want to have a bladder infection and be managing an abduction at the same time. In short, I am wishing that you are in good health or at least a state of health that will not jeopardise your business. 

You see, unlike many Nigerians, my head is not buried in the sand. I will not express shock when you kidnap me. I will not express anger. I will not break down in tears. I will not pee in my pants (except if you kidnap me just after drinking and refuse to let me use the bathroom and if so, I apologise for soiling your premises or place of business). I will not have any of the reactions which I assume you have become accustomed to. (I am sincerely hoping that you have some experience in this kidnapping business because I would hate to deal with a beginner: beginners panic and do things like shoot the people they have abducted. If you are new, I will advice you to calm down. I am not going to be a problem. We can work through this together. Like they say, with God all things are possible.)

The reason I am calm is simple. I am a Nigerian that has common sense. I also read. I know how hard things are becoming. I also know how ungoverned Nigeria is. So whether it has become easier to kidnap people or life has become harder or both, I understand. Also, we both know the Police is not going to get involved under any circumstances except perhaps to make sure the ransom money is secure so yeah, I am not going to call them. None of my people are going to contact the police either. If we are going to have to spend money, better to give it to you, than pay for “fuel” and paper to write the statement then still end up paying the ransom. My point is, calm down and let us negotiate. 

I want you to be reasonable. Ok. Wait. I see you are getting upset. I am not calling you unreasonable. God forbid. I was raised in a good Christian home and I cannot accuse a brother falsely. (You are my brother, let us not argue, even if you are from Cameroon. We are all brothers. Unless you are white and, not that I am racist but I know you are not white.) I am only saying that I am encouraging you to do what you normally would have done, which is, be reasonable. It is like encouraging a child who is already running: “Run Bubu, run”. Ok, I am also not calling you a child. Arrrgggh! Ok, look let us just continue. I don’t have much time.

I want you to understand that even though you may have read my name or the name of my book in the New York Times or The Guardian UK, it does not mean anything. I have no money. My publishers give me only 10% of the profit per book. And let’s be honest, I can never know how many books my publisher actually sells. If they tell me they sold only 100, I can’t prove they sold thousands. This 10% book business is not much better than hawking Gala and La Casera and pure water and scotch egg in traffic. (Ps. I don't understand people who eat scotch egg in public transport in traffic. They stink up the bus and they look silly opening their mouths wide to bite into it. If not that you can’t get much out of them I would have said those are the kind of people who deserve to be kidnapped. Those ones and the agents of darkness who eat moin-moin in offices and on buses.) Plus, I took more than half of the advance on my book and paid it to my landlord in Abuja. If you had not already gone through the trouble of kidnapping me, I would have suggested that you should have taken my Abuja landlord instead of me. But, still, think about it. For one thing, he increased the rent this year without notice or anything. I just came back home and saw a letter saying I had to pay a hundred thousand naira more than I paid last year. No fear of God or anything like that. That, or you take my publisher. My point is, I am a poor writer. All those countries you see me going to, I don’t pay for it. There are nice people in many countries who have read my book and pay for me to come and read there. They don’t even really pay. They just buy my ticket and give a couple hundred dollars as per diem (if I am lucky) and by the time you have gone out twice abroad, the money is all finished. You can’t even buy a decent perfume at the airport on your way back. And you know how Nigerians are. Once they know you travelled abroad, there will be a queue outside your house of people waiting for gifts. Some will even send you a list (without money). And if you ignore them they will say you are proud. They will remind you of the time nobody knew you and only them cared about you. They will call you ungrateful. But it is the life I have chosen. I can’t complain.

I also do not have a rich family. My father is a retired civil servant and my mother, well, unless you can sell her clothes and weaves there is no money to be made there. (I had heard that my mother had other richer suitors, but why my mother chose to marry a poor man is a story for another day.)So, just ask for a little money and we can all be happy. 

However, while the negotiations are going on, I have a few requests. Notice I didn’t say demands. Your ransom is a demand which, don’t get me wrong, you deserve. I am only begging. As a writer, I want to at least make something out of the kidnapping experience. I need to write about it. You make the ransom money, I make some good writing and fame out it. At-all at-all na im bad pass. If possible, I want a selfie. Because you know how our generation is. If there is no photo or video or link it did not happen. You can die these days and the children of the devil on the internet will ask your family announcing it for photos or links so they can believe you are truly dead. I already said I won’t do anything funny like try to call the police. We both know how useless that is (this is not an American film where their police trace kidnapper calls and show up commando style). And really, I expect that as a professional you would have blindfolded me on the way to your business premises. Or we can just use an actual digital camera. If you don’t have one we can buy one - just take the money from the ransom money when you get it. Or ask, as a preliminary demand before actual negotiations that they send a camera. (If it wasn’t too much to ask, I might asked if you would let me sneak a couple of my own demands into your list of demands. But you alone worked for this kidnapping and I won’t just come and ride on your hustle. That would be opportunistic. You know, like a woman struggled with some rough guy for over a decade, patiently cleaned him up, married and made him decent, and then some random woman sees him on the street corner and thinks he was always this wonderful and tries to snatch him. Or like all those criminals who got elected across the country by affixing Buhari's photo to their campaign posters. That kind of opportunistic. God forbid.)

Can we please play some games while we are waiting? I find that boredom kills. Look at the damage our bored legislators do because there is no real work to be done, padding budgets and all. I suggest Ludo. Or WHOT. Also, talk to me. I want to hear your story. I will tell you mine. That you kidnapped me does not mean we can’t gist a little. You may find that we have more in common than you ever imagined. 

(And please don't worry about food. I am not proud. I have no special dietary requirements. I will eat what you eat.)

This may turn out to be the best kidnapping you have ever done.

Ps. Just to be clear, the “Dear” at the top of this letter is not a mere salutation. You are really dear to me. God bless your hustle, and be with you and your loved ones. And may they never, never be kidnapped. 



Sunday, August 14, 2016


And it came about that in those days, the winged creatures on the farm became agitated and full of rage following the massacre of bats by White’s farm hand Dick-Tai. But not rage about the massacre. Although Dick-Tai had done a great job in the minds of White and some of White’s supporters in and out of the farm, the winged creatures who hated bats felt that it was not enough. It was not enough that the leader of the bats who barely escaped with his life, now injured and going blind, was still in custody and had his wings clipped. It was not enough that hundreds of bats were still in custody with no access to their families or any sort of justice. The winged creatures had a meeting in the crocodile swamps and concluded on what the solution would be: Bats had to be eradicated from the farm. Completely. No more bats. It was hard to completely kill them off. There were almost 5 million bats on the farm. Not too many compared to the general population of animals - almost 200 million. But someone had to do something about the bats that blocked the sun when they were flying out to feed on mangoes or when they had processions. 

This is the story of the bats: 

In the beginning, long, long ago when there were not too many different types of winged creatures on the farm, there were two farms completely dominated by winged creatures, struggling for dominance. And those farms spread their ideologies among winged creatures everywhere. One farm was a farm of bats. The other farm was a farm of hawks. And the hawks promoted the birth of hawks and the bats promoted the birth of bats. And wherever they could, they tried to secure a majority. And everywhere they fought among themselves and killed each other. Where hawks had a majority, they killed and oppressed bats. Where bats had a majority, they killed and oppressed hawks. 

On White’s farm, bats and hawks received money from the farm or bats and the farm of the hawks respectively to boost their numbers and gain control. While bats never outnumbered the hawks, they steadily grew in number. And they were hated by all the different types of winged creatures. But they alienated themselves and did not try to become friends with the different councils of winged creatures. Especially the hawks who did not even think they were animals and who grew to political relevance on White’s farm. The bats thought that there was no use trying because nothing they did would make the other winged creatures hate them less.

The way of life of bats was very different. The other winged creatures swore that bats were not birds like they were and the mammals swore that they would rather die than be classed in the same animal group as the bats.

The bats called themselves flying creatures. But the winged creatures denied this and said the flapping of wings did not qualify to make an animal a flying creature.

"Do you deny us our identity?" The leader of the bats asked the leader of the hawks.

"Most certainly," the leader of the hawks retorted, "you have the face and lips of a mammal, we have beaks, you hang upside down, we stand straight. You have skin and fur, we have feathers.”

"But the relevant quality is not the manner of flight, but the fact of flight. You fly. We fly.  Abi? You are flying creatures. We are flying creatures.”

The leader of the hawks who was also the leader of the winged creatures spat out each time the leader of the bats spoke.

And so it came about that on the day that Dick-Tai decided to wipe out the bats once and for all, there were no winged creatures to protect them. In fact animals, mostly winged creatures, came out and looted the dead bodies of the bats that Dick-Tai killed. They celebrated. Good riddance to bad rubbish they said. And they asked why the bats were so stubborn. Why they looked weird. They said that the bats were asking for it. 

White for his part was angry that anyone would dare disrespect his farm hand. And he was silent even though it was eventually discovered that Dick-Tai actually massacred and secretly buried bats in mass graves. 

And at the end of the special meeting of winged creatures, they issued a communique stating:

We have debated the problems of winged creatures and have come to the unanimous conclusion that the only way of securing a solution is to declare that bats are not winged creatures or birds or flying creatures and that they are not even animals. They are strange beasts that deserved to be killed or banned or both. 

Of course bats were not invited to that meeting. 

Elsewhere on the farm, the leader of the crocodiles continued trying to silently seek support to take over from White as leader of the farm. 

And the worshippers of White continued their loud prayer sessions even though many slowly began to drop out of the worship sessions because of the hardship on the farm, the scarcity of water and the insecurity. 

And some farm hands of White began to harass with weapons anyone who would speak against them or against White. 

And the leader of the bats continued to be in custody with his lost eye without access to proper healthcare. 

And all the animals said it was not their business what happened to the bats.

And there was hunger and thirst and darkness and violence.

And all the while, White walked around the farm, observing, enjoying the worship songs directed at him, hands behind his back, silent.

Saturday, August 6, 2016


  1. In the beginning the British created the Northern and Southern protectorates. Now, the nation was formless and empty and darkness covered our collective identity. 
  2. And the British said: “Let there be Nigeria.” And there was Nigeria. And the British saw that Nigeria was good (for them) and they separated the ruling class from the serfs. 
  3. And the British said: “Just as we have a vault between us and you, let there be a vault to separate the rulers from the citizens.” 
  4. So the British created Nigeria in their own image, in the image of their colonial rulership they created it; oppressor and oppressed they created them.
  5. And there was independence from the British and there were coups and  counter coups and there were military dictators. 
  6. And the decades passed and the military rulers transformed into civilian ones and stripped their garbs and uniforms and took new ones. And they declared: “Old things have passed away and all things have become new.”

  1. For our military dictators loved the country so much that they gave up their only begotten uniforms and the right to make decrees, that whosoever believed in them and voted them shall be stuck with them until their old age. 

  1. And it came about that a usurper who was not a military dictator found his way to the throne, through natural deaths and impeachments, and he came upon Nigerians like a thief in the night. And he came not to build but to steal and destroy. And he left Nigerians blind and poor. 
  2. And Nigerians looked to a former dictator and said to him: “Lord, we do not know where we are going.” And he answered them and said: “I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to good governance except through me.” And he gained followers and drove out the usurper who had left Nigerians blind and poor. 
  3. And his followers said: “Lord show us the way and that will be enough for us. Show us Change.” And he answered them and said: “Do you believe that I am good governance and good governance is me? You may ask for anything in my name and I will do it.” 
  4. And his followers worshipped him and sang his praises day and night. And when his ministers proved incompetent, his followers praised him and denounced the ministers. 
  5. And when the people began to groan under much suffering they looked unto their benevolent dictator. And he said to them: “If you love me, keep my commands. Hate those who hate me and love those who love me. My enemies cannot accept me, because they neither see me nor know me. But you know me, for I live with you and will be in you.”
  6. And some skeptics said, “But, Lord, why do your ministers do silly things like wear silly red berets and have nothing under the berets?” And the benevolent dictator replied, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. Anyone who does not love me will not obey my teaching.”

  1. For the shameless will inherit the land and they will dwell in it in an abundance of peace. 
  2. For the shameless, instead of shame there shall be a double portion; for the wicked and corrupt instead of dishonour, they shall rejoice in their lot; they shall have everlasting joy and in their old age be called elder statesmen.
  3. And the last shall be the first.

  1. If I fight for human rights of random individuals or of enemies of the Lord but do not have loyalty to the benevolent dictator, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of turning the economy around and can fathom all the mysteries of the parallel market and if I am angry that pilgrims get dollars and not business men and women but do not have loyalty to the dictator and love for him, I am nothing. 
  2. Love is patient (with inefficiency), love is kind (even in the face of massacres).  It does not envy the benevolent dictator, it does not boast that it can do better. It is not proud. 
  3. Love keeps no record of wrongs, whether those wrongs happened in 1984 and are being repeated or those wrongs lead to 347 people being secretly buried. Love does not delight in evil except where that evil happens to people we do not like, from strange ethnic groups or religions or sexualities. 
  4. But love rejoices with the truth: and the truth is what the benevolent dictator says it is. 
  5. Love always protects the interest of the dictator and blames only his ministers for things that go wrong.
  6. Love never fails. 
  7. But where there is common sense, it will cease. Whether there are industries, they will cease. Where there is electricity, it will reduce. And where there is a great football team, it will diminish. Where there are cheap dollars, it will be reserved for pilgrims and billionaires. For we know in part and we pontificate through newspaper articles and blogs in part, but when completeness through our benevolent dictator (and his minions) arrives, what is in part disappears. 

  1. The benevolent dictator is my shepherd, I shall lack nothing. He makes me lies down in darkness, but only because it leads me to quietness. He refreshes my soul. He guides me along his own paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley with no electricity, I will fear no evil, for he is with me. His rod and his staff with which he makes hundreds of Shiites disappear, they comfort me. 
  1. Blessed are [those who steal from] the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of political rebirths.
  2. Blessed are those who [make others like Shiites] mourn, for they will be comforted [by the silence of dead and putrified bodies]
  3. Blessed are [those who despise] the meek for they will inherit the earth.
  4. Blessed are those with good political alliances, for even when they are caught, they will be shown mercy. 
  5. Blessed are those who [hate the] pure in heart, for they will see the inner walls of the Villa. 
  6. Blessed are those who trend political hashtags, for theirs is the kingdom of bank alerts.
  7. Blessed are those with a long career of theft and destruction, for they will be called elder statesmen.


  1. The benevolent dictator gathered all his disciples and taught them a new prayer. He said:
  2. You must pray then this way:
  3. Our father, who art Aliko, hallowed be thy wealth
  4. Thy monopolies come
  5. Thy will be done in this government as it was in the previous
  6. Give us this day, your refinery (as we give you our cheap dollars)
  7. And forgive us our doubts as we have forgiven those who doubt us
  8. And lead us not into temptation to break your monopolies (and empower other entrepreneurs), but deliver us from the evil ones who challenge our government.
  9. For thine is the sugar, the flour and the cement (and rice and spaghetti), forever and ever, amen. 

Sunday, July 31, 2016


White stumbled about, looking for the pills the foreign veterinarian gave him recently. He had woken up earlier than usual because one of his farm hands had knocked on his door in the middle of the night to tell him about an ambush on a team of foreign volunteers by wild dogs in the North east of the farm. The foreign volunteers were helping to feed the emaciated animals there who were victims of the wild dogs, displaced and forced to live in camps with little food or water or health care. Animals were reported to be dying of malnutrition and hunger in the camps while friends of White in the centre of the farm were living large and coating their fur and wings with expensive oils. In the centre of the farm, officials in farm management had hardship allowances paid to them for having to drag their bodies and bellies bloated from excess food to and from work every day. 

“It is not easy to drag a well fed animal body to make laws for the farm,” one member of the animal committee in charge of checking White’s power declared. “There is a certain hardship about interrupting the process of nutrition and refreshment to discuss animals, most of whom are ungrateful anyway. So I think we deserve our hardship allowance. And I see no contradiction in having a hardship allowance while animals starve in the North-eastern end of the farm. First, no one asked them to go and live there. It is out in the middle of nowhere and they endanger all of us by being there in the first place. Second, we cannot question what the animal gods have destined to happen. It is what creates balance. Imagine if everyone had exactly the same resources. Meaning no one would need anyone else. No one would need to do anything. Is that the kind of farm we want?”

As White swallowed his pills and winced in pain (his anus had still not healed), the leader of the settlement of crocodiles, a feisty old crocodile with short legs and a red mouth called Sir Na was watching him with binoculars. He observed everything about White. He sent out flies and bees to feel the air and the mood of animals and whether they were starting to get tired of White. And what they would feel about him taking over. As he did that he told the flies to carry with them news of his performance in the crocodile swamp. 

“Tell them I am a great leader of the crocodiles,” he said. “I may have short legs, but I have cleaned up the algae-infested pools and made sure that there is no discrimination between alligators and crocodiles. I have even employed non-crocodiles to work in the swamp. In fact, there are animals that used to be on the menu for crocodiles who are now safely working in the crocodile swamp. I have done wonders in the swamp and so I can do wonders in the farm.”

And the flies felt the air across the farm for a readiness to change farm managers. And they spread the word about Sir Na’s suitability to become farm manager in place of White. But Sir Na did it discreetly so as not to clash openly with White whom he worshipped in public spaces. White also accepted his worship but knew that if Sir Na had a chance, he would depose him as farm manager. 

And some animals grumbled claiming that Sir Na was a crocodile supremacist and a divisive and hateful animal. 

Meanwhile, animals all across the farm built up personal defences to protect them against the failures of the White management. They would find ways to make up for his inadequacies. When they fell ill, instead of attacking White and asking for veterinarians on the farm, they set up boxes across the farm with the inscriptions #Save together with the name of the animal that was ill. And animals would drop anything they had in the boxes to save the ill animal and raise enough resources to take them out to another farm that had good veterinary doctors. After doing this, they would see no contradiction is dropping by for a Whitist prayer session. In fact when White had to travel to a foreign farm to treat his anus, they defended him and gave examples of other farm managers who left their farms to seek treatment elsewhere. Because it was not White’s fault. 

When the farm hand Dick-Tai gleefully did a bat genocide, it was not White’s fault. 

When animals did not get the resources they required to compete in the animal farm games, it was not White’s fault but that of the farm hand in charge of sport.

When darkness still covered the face of the farm, it was not White’s fault but that of the farm hand in charge of fire. 

When the value of products on the farm was falling, it was not White’s fault but that of the farm hand in charge of trade…

…for White is holy and above reproach…

And White continued to hide the pain he felt in public. 

And Sir Na continued to plot to become farm manager without becoming enemies with White.

And the farm continued without any proper veterinary centres (which was not the fault of White but that of farm manager before him and his farm hand in charge of health and his enemies and all the fucking animals who refuse to be loyal to him).

And animals continued contributing for ill animals to leave the farm for treatment and praising themselves for their good work.

And the foreigners who were attacked while bringing food to the emaciated animals in the North east got afraid and suspended their food deliveries.

And farm hands and animals on the committee kept growing fat. 

And Whitist priests and loyalists continued to worship White and pray:

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


Sunday, July 24, 2016


So White came back. After all the hue and cry, after all the complaints of disloyal animals unbelievers White stopped travelling and put his tail down in his own farm where it belonged. His farm hands had told tales of how his travelling was useful, especially since Goodhead had ruined the farms reputation at home and abroad by pillaging the farm alongside his associates. White’s farm hands swore that there was no other way. 

On the farm since White returned things were changing. Fast. The promises White made were becoming harder and harder to keep. The cost of water was rising and even though White had removed the subsidy on the water, it was not as easy to get as was expected. But White knew what he was doing. 

In the southern marshlands of the farm, wild dogs increased their attacks on water pipes demanding that they have control of their marshlands and the water resources that emanated from their lands. 

“Our lands are flooded," they claimed. "We cannot plant. We cannot build. We cannot play. For allowing access to water for the rest of the farm, we have lost our homes and livelihoods. We want control of our water resources.” 

The new leader of a group of wild dogs - the Marshland Retaliators - spoke angrily and swore that if things did not change they would keep blowing up pipelines all across the marshlands and beyond. 

When White was a new farm manager he had sworn that although he intended to negotiate with the wild dogs in the north of the farm if they renounced violence, he would not tolerate any wild dogs in the southern marshlands. “We have had enough of wild dog terrorism in the marshlands,” he said. He said there would be no dialogue and that his genocidal army, led by farmhand Dick-Tai, was capable of handling any wild dogs that threatened the water supply of the farm. However, as time went on, it became clear that he could not just kill off the southern wild dogs the way his farm hand Dick-Tai massacred bats in the north of the farm. He could not just send in farm hands and shoot them down. They could not be found. They attacked quietly at night and disappeared long before anyone could find them. And because the farm exported water to other farms, it was important that no one interrupted the flow of water. So, faced with falling water prices, White broke down and said he would negotiate with those wild dogs. The problem was finding them. The first few groups White’s farm hands talked to turned out to be opportunist animals posing as wild dogs. But White knew what he was doing. 

Meanwhile the committee that was set up to look into the massacre by Dick-Tai had finished its work and submitted its report. 

The report stated that indeed, Dick-Tai and his minions did massacre bats in their hundreds. And that there was no reason for him to do so. It stated that although there was an altercation, Dick-Tai were able to leave the area and  made his minions to cordon off the area and kill the bats one after the other for daring to hit the chest of a farm hand. 

Even White had agreed with this. White needed to maintain the fear and control required to run a farm. There were too many disloyal animals, especially bats who were unpredictable. So White had tapped Dick-Tai’s back and told him he did well by taking care of the bat problem. 

Meanwhile Dick-Tai was found to have stolen money with which he built several nice barns in foreign farms far away. But not all stealing is bad, especially if you help sort out a bat problem and you are loyal to White. Loyalty. It does not matter if you are an animal who steals, but if you are loyal, it helps. Disloyal animals are terrible. Disloyal animals make it hard for White to have complete control. Disloyal animals ask questions. Like why the farm is dark. Why the price of water keeps increasing. Why the farm’s economy is in a recession. Why they deny that the farm’s economy is in a recession even though all the signs are there.

Loyal animals ignore reports. They ignore reports that say Dick-Tai massacred bats. That he secretly buried male and female bats together in mass graves. That some of the bats he buried were not even dead when he buried them. Loyal animals focus on the real issues. Issues like how two Committee elders insulted and spat at each other during a Committee meeting. How two female swans accused each other of chewing fresh marijuana leaves and being lesbian swans. Loyal animals only say the great and perfect things that White does. Because White is great and perfect. And when he is not great and perfect it is only because of the damage caused by Goodhead who governed the farm a long time ago. One can never forget a bad manager who spoilt things a long time ago. 

As loyal animals beat their Whitist drums and disloyal animals wailed in the corners, farms across the animal world were preparing for the inter-farm games. This was a respected event and farms went to great lengths to prepare their animals. There were flying, crawling, swimming, fighting, sprinting and hunting games for different categories of animals. Because of how much the previous farm managers on White’s  farm hated the games, they made sure no one had enough resources to prepare. Slowly many animals moved to other better farms and even played games for them. All across the games there were animals who were originally from White’s farm representing other farms. Although White had set aside resources for training and equipment, his animals got nothing and a few days to the games, animals had to go round the farms doing embarrassing things to get resources to be able to attend the games. Sports animals were preening birds, cleaning dogs and masturbating horses in order to make it to the games. And those animals who were good all knew they had to train outside the farm if they had any hopes of winning. But White knew what he was doing. 

And animals continued to position themselves to take over from White in the event that the pain in his side made it too hard for him to continue being farm manager. 

And White’s farm hands continued to steal bits from the property they recovered from associates of Goodhead who had plundered the farm. 

And Dick-Tai continued to lie that the property he owned outside the farm was purchased by grains he saved over the years. 

And the cost of grain continued to rise. 

And the wild brothers of White continued to roam free with blood on their fur. 

And White walked around the farm, hands behind his back, silent, only wincing from the slight pain in his anus. 

And as all of these were happening on the farm the loyal animals on the farm were poised and did not lose focus. Because they knew that White knew what he was doing. 

And they worshipped White and sang his praises and prayed: 

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